They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World

Chapter 256: Tick, Tock Marcus[4]

I led the way through the bustling festival crowds, the massive, towering stone arches of the Academy’s primary combat stadium looming ahead of them.

The sheer scale of the colosseum was breathtaking, built from white marble and reinforced with thousands of glowing, heavy-duty protective runes.

"Alright, ten silver coins says the guy with the heavy broadsword in the next match goes down in under two minutes,"

Kyle declared, practically bouncing on his heels as we climbed the grand stone staircases. He bumped his shoulder against Tobias.

"Come on, Toby. Put your money where your massive intellect is."

Tobias sidestepped, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses with a look of profound, scholarly disdain.

"I do not partake in primitive games of chance, Kyle. Gambling is a statistical trap designed for fools."

"I’ll take that action!" Sira chimed in instantly, digging into her leather pouch and pulling out ten silver coins. She shoved them directly into Tobias’s hands.

"You hold the stakes, Tobias. Don’t let him back out when he loses."

"I am not a bank!" Tobias protested, though he reluctantly pocketed the coins with a heavy, long-suffering sigh as they found their seats in the packed, roaring stands.

The stadium was completely overflowing. The lower tiers were filled with thousands of screaming students, while the lavish, elevated VIP boxes were occupied by the kingdom’s honorable guests, prominent nobles, guild masters, and royal military scouts, all looking for the next generation of talent.

Down in the center of the massive dirt arena, a third-year student holding an amplification artifact was pacing the ring, his voice booming across the stadium.

"Welcome, honorable guests, esteemed alumni, and lords of the capital!" the commentator roared, the crowd erupting into a deafening cheer.

"The preliminary exhibition duels have already begun! We have witnessed incredible displays of magic, now, it is time for the heavyweights of the first-year class!"

I leaned back against the hard stone bench, crossing my arms then tuned out Kyle and Sira’s bickering, fixing my eyes on the arena floor.

"Entering the ring now," the commentator hyped, pointing dramatically toward the eastern gates, "is the undisputed powerhouse of the first-year combat division! Give it up for Toren Graves!"

A massive cheer echoed through the stadium.

Toren Graves stepped out onto the dirt. He was tall, powerfully built, with striking green hair and sharp, intensely focused brown eyes. He carried a heavy, two-handed battleaxe over his shoulder like it weighed absolutely nothing.

His opponent stepped out from the western gate, another one-off top ten ranked student dual-wielding curved scimitars.

"Don’t think I’m going to make this easy for you, Graves," the dual-wielder called out, dropping into a low, aggressive stance.

Toren offered a calm, grounded smile, bringing his massive axe down with a heavy thud that kicked up a cloud of dirt.

"I’d be deeply disappointed if you did. Come at me."

The bell rang.

And... the clash was explosive.

The dual-wielder moved with incredible speed, unleashing a flurry of strikes, but Toren’s defense was an impenetrable wall. With a single, devastating sweep of his axe, Toren shattered his opponent’s guard, sending him skidding completely out of the ring.

It was a brilliant, flawless victory.

The stadium roared its approval.

I nodded slightly analyzing Toren’s footwork.

Two matches later, the commentator’s voice echoed again.

And now, it was time...

"Next up Marcus Valen!"

The crowd applaused.

Marcus stepped into the ring. His uniform was flawless, but his posture was undeniably tense. It seemed to be that he was desperate to prove his worth to the VIPs in the upper boxes.

His opponent was a sturdy earth-mage, took his position.

The bell rang, and Marcus immediately went on the offensive. He aggressively pushed his fire mana, hurling torrents of intense heat across the arena, trying to overwhelm the earth-mage’s defensive stone walls.

The crowd murmured in appreciation of his raw firepower, but Marcus was clearly getting frustrated by the lack of a quick victory.

Then my eyes narrowed. A cyan interface silently flared to life behind my retinas.

[Target: Demonic Crystal (Host: Marcus Valen) -> Modify Property: Energy Seal]

[Execute Command: Breach Containment / Siphon Output to Host Mana Pool]

Down in the ring, Marcus was drawing back his fist to cast another fireball. Suddenly, the deep red flames roaring in his palm violently flickered.

A surge of foreign, dense power flooded into his mana channels.

The flames in his hand instantly darkened. Marcus’s eyes went wide with a mix of shock and sudden, intoxicating power.

But he didn’t question it. With a loud shout, he hurled the dark fireball forward.

The impact was devastating. The flames didn’t just burn the earth-mage’s stone shield; they violently corroded it, shattering the barrier and blowing the opponent completely out of the ring in a terrifying shockwave.

The crowd went wild, cheering at the explosive finish.

But I didn’t look at the crowd. I looked at the edge of the arena.

The Academy administrators and the barrier mages weren’t cheering. They had instantly sensed the foul signature of the flames.

Quickly three high-ranking faculty members vaulted over the safety barrier, rushing toward Marcus before he could even take a bow.

"Valen! Hold your position," the lead administrator barked, his face pale and deadly serious.

Marcus blinked, his arrogant smile faltering as the faculty members surrounded him.

"What? I won the match. What is the meaning of this?"

Without asking for permission, an administrator pulled a scanning artifact from his robes and swept it over Marcus. The artifact instantly shrieked.

The administrator didn’t hesitate.

He reached directly into Marcus’s coat and pulled out a crystal.

Marcus stared at the crystal in absolute, horrified disbelief.

All the blood completely drained from his face.

"T-That... that’s-"

"Save it," the administrator hissed, his voice cold with absolute disgust. He gripped Marcus forcefully by the arm.

"You are to wait in the holding room."

Then Marcus was escorted out of the arena, the heavy iron gates slamming shut behind him.

I leaned back against the stone bench, casually resting my chin in hand, and a cold, smirk spread across my face.

You’re done... Marcus!