The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System

Chapter 215: Fuck You

***

The walk to the Colosseum was supposed to be a dramatic march.

Many a student had likely practiced their "cool" walk in the mirror.

Instead, it was a mosh pit.

As Ignotus and his cohort neared the massive stone arches of the Academy’s arena, a swarm of people descended on them. Reporters that held recording crystals and quills that moved on their own, buzzing like angry hornets.

They shoved past Lykos, who looked incredibly offended; ignored his wall, Ulv; and swarmed Ignotus from all sides.

"Priest Ignotus! Priest Ignotus!"

"Please give a moment of your time!"

"Over here! A word for the Daily Oracle!"

Ignotus stopped and glanced at them.

"Do you know who you’ll be fighting in the first bracket?"

A reporter shouted, shoving a crystal in his face.

Ignotus, caring not for the lack of personal space, nodded.

"No. Nor do I have any in mind."

The reporter blinked.

"You... haven’t checked the bracket?"

"Nope."

"But this is a cross-year tournament!"

Another reporter yelled.

"The upperclassmen are involved! How do you feel about possibly facing Lady Rosa?! While their classes have been lowered to match you first years, I’m sure it’ll be difficult!"

Ignotus tilted his head, his expression genuinely blank.

"Who?"

The reporters immediately looked confused, exchanging glances.

"Lady Rosa! The Third Year Student Chief! It’s your own sister!"

Ignotus scratched his cheek.

"Ah, yes. Easily."

"Easily? You think you can beat a third year easily?"

"Next question."

"Then how about Lord Kaelen? The Thunder Vanguard?"

"Who?"

"He’s the top seed of the second years!"

"Who?"

"The guy with the giant hammer?"

"Who?"

They tried to fire back. They tried to drop names that carried weight in the Academy, names that usually made first years tremble. They tried to get under his skin, to find a crack in his arrogance.

But every single time?

"Who?"

An owl replied to them.

Besides the first one, it wasn’t an act.

Ignotus genuinely didn’t know these people. If they weren’t something of interest to him, they ceased to exist in his world.

"Do you think you could beat Lady Merlin?"

A reporter tried a different angle.

"Oh, her?"

Ignotus hummed, finally acknowledging the existence of another human being.

"It’d be hard."

The reporters leaned in, sensing a scoop.

"So you’d lose?"

"No, no..."

Ignotus shook his head, a small, terrifying smile playing on his lips.

"I’d win."

...

Inside the Colosseum, the atmosphere was electric.

Thousands of students filled the stone stands, and banners waved in the wind.

High above in the sky, next to the eight screen projections, two figures floated.

One was the stern Professor John, the other was the boisterous Professor Lothar.

"WELCOME!"

The latter’s voice boomed.

"To the Annual Academy Festival! This year, we host an in-stratum tournament! And oh boy, do we have a lineup for you today!"

"Indeed, we do."

John added dryly.

"Let’s hope they survive the first round."

"Speaking of survival!"

Lothar gestured wildly to the arena floor.

"Let’s talk about the man of the hour! The anomaly!"

The projections in the air revealed Ignotus.

"Priest Ignotus!"

He hyped.

"My own student! This boy has rocked the Stratum harder than an earthquake. Speed at ascension? Unmatched. Strength? Ridiculous. He has single-handedly made half the Academy believe we’ve been wrong about Luck Runes for centuries!"

"He has certainly... changed the curriculum."

John admitted.

"The stigma against Luck is fading at an unprecedented rate."

"You’d think some might still be doubtful..."

Lothar continued.

"After all, centuries of bias don’t vanish overnight. But no! Everyone knows Ignotus is a top contender. Any opponent would be unlucky to face him today!"

Lothar paused for dramatic effect.

"But! That doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed a win. Oh no. The bracket Gods have a sense of humor, folks. There are many strong students in this mix."

The projection shifted to show a tall, green-haired young man with a cruel smile.

"And his first opponent is none other than his own brother! Lord Acer of House Plant!"

The crowd roared.

A brother-versus-brother match? It was the kind of drama they ate up.

"Acer is a Plant Element user. A known specialty of the Plant House. Vines, thorns, poisons—it’s a nasty kit and quite a strong one at that."

"He’s not exactly an exemplary student."

John noted, and Lothar laughed.

"Putting it mildly! But he’s strong. He’ll be sure to give Ignotus a run for his gold!"

Ignotus, who now stood in the entry tunnel, checked his newly repaired sword.

Though he couldn’t get it back to Vulcan, the Divine Forgers in the Academy were enough.

His gloves—Hands of Lethe—looked great as well, feeling brand new and ready for battle.

He still felt the cracks in his Soul, of course. Its ache never left, a constant, dull throb in his chest. He was risking a lot here.

"It’ll be fine."

But he was ready for it.

Ignotus walked out into the sunlight.

The arena’s sand crunched under his boots.

Across from him stood Acer, his "brother."

Looking at him, Ignotus didn’t feel any familial bond.

Nor did he feel any nostalgia or lingering emotions.

He just saw an enemy to defeat.

In the lower standings of the world, fights usually lasted a long time. Runebearers traded blows, caught their breath, and monologued about their feelings. It was a dance.

But as one went up the hierarchy, things changed.

High-Class Runebearers were lethal. Many were glass cannons holding region-destroying armaments.

Long-lived Runebearers had tricks and arsenals, but when matched in strength and skill?

A fight didn’t last ten minutes; it lasted ten seconds.

If one found a fight that lasted longer, they’d better enjoy it.

It was rare; if they lived, they’d look back at it with a smile.

But most fights? They ended quickly.

A single careless error spelled doom.

Some people—idealists, mostly—asked, "Did they really NEED to kill?"

They argued that the "truly strong" could incapacitate. That mercy was the mark of power. That being humane to those who didn’t deserve it was the ultimate show of strength.

Ignotus didn’t stand for that.

Mercy was a luxury for people who hadn’t stared down a Greater Demon.

What was the essence of combat?

Survival? No. Skill? No. Experience? No. Willpower? No.

It was murder.

Kill your enemy before they kill you.

Simple as that.

Runebearers were trained to kill; that was all.

And today, even to his own blood, Ignotus was willing to show that essence.

Acer watched Ignotus approach, showing a confident, arrogant smile.

Green Divinity swirled around his fingers, forming thorny vines.

"You’ll regret ever setting foot in this arena, trash!"

Acer ensured his voice was loud enough for the crowd to hear.

"I’ll show Father he made a mistake letting you liv—"

"Fuck you."

Ignotus took a low stance.

Ding!

—

╔════════╗

║NEW QUEST!║

╚════════╝

[Objective: Dominate This Tournament]

—

His domination of this tournament had begun.