Chapter 294: Semi Finals [1]
[Daily Income Stream: $2,001,500 has been awarded!]
[Daily Income Stream: Amulet of protection has been awarded!]
—
Host: Noah Carter
Age: 28
Shop Level: 2
Daily Revenue: $2,153,000 (or equivalent)
Current Assets: $23,161,340
Shop Points: 32,890
Attributes: Strength: 90, Vitality: 140, Intelligence: 90, Agility: 90
Skills:
[Level 13:] Swordsmanship, Body Tempering, Wind Manipulation, Mana Control, Aura
[Level 5:] Photographic Memory
[Level 3:] Surviving on Ramen, Cooking, Finance, Gaming
[Level 2:] Programming
—
Noah reviewed his updated status with satisfaction. His auto-makers remained at previous production levels since he hadn’t conducted any sales during the elven ceasefire, but his personal development had advanced dramatically.
The idle room training had successfully brought his swordsmanship up to Level 13, eliminating the gap between his combat and magical skills. All his primary abilities now operated at the same tier, creating balanced capabilities that would serve him well during dangerous situations.
His attributes had reached impressive levels across all categories, with vitality leading at 140 points—a significant improvement from his earlier weakness in that area. The balanced 90-point distribution in strength, intelligence, and agility provided versatility for both magical and physical challenges.
With over twenty-three million dollars in assets and nearly thirty-three thousand shop points accumulated, Noah possessed substantial resources for future investments and upgrades. The daily income stream of over two million dollars ensured continued financial growth even during periods of reduced sales activity.
The combination of his increasing skills, balanced attributes, and substantial wealth positioned him well for the upcoming World Tree expedition and whatever challenges awaited in higher-level worlds once his system could be upgraded.
Currently, Noah possessed four Amulets of Protection, which represented a substantial defensive arsenal. With these, he could equip himself with one, provide another to his father for protection, and still maintain two spares for future distribution.
Noah had no intention of converting the amulet income stream to monetary value. Once he accumulated enough protective artefacts, he could distribute them to his entire family—ensuring the safety of his cousin, Aunt Mei, and anyone else he cared about on Earth. The peace of mind from knowing his loved ones were protected far outweighed any financial considerations.
Noah stepped out of his resort room after completing his morning routine and preparing for the day ahead. He had showered, dressed appropriately for competition, and mentally prepared himself for what lay ahead.
Today marked the semifinals, and his focus had crystallised into a singular purpose: facing Kenzo and holding him accountable for his brutal treatment of Ichigo. The memory of his friend’s screams and the sadistic pleasure Kenzo had taken in inflicting unnecessary damage fueled Noah’s determination.
The tournament had evolved beyond simple competition into something more personal.
His combat experience positioned him well for the encounter ahead—one that would likely determine not just tournament advancement, but justice for his injured friend.
Noah consumed a loaf of bread as he walked toward the central platform where the arena matches took place. The competitor field had been dramatically reduced—only four fighters remained from the original tournament bracket.
Liam, Noah, Kenzo, and Hiroshi had survived the elimination rounds to reach the semifinals. Each represented different fighting philosophies and skill levels that had proven effective against previous opposition.
Noah’s eyes widened as he spotted a familiar figure among the spectators. Master Tanaka was there, observing the proceedings with a satisfied smile on his face. The old swordmaster’s presence suggested he had come specifically to witness Noah’s continued advancement through the tournament ranks.
Their eyes met briefly across the venue, and Master Tanaka offered a subtle nod of acknowledgement—recognition between teacher and student that transcended formal instruction. The gesture carried approval and perhaps curiosity about how Noah’s mysteriously accelerated development would perform against elite-level competition.
The reduced number of competitors created a more intimate atmosphere compared to earlier rounds. The remaining fighters represented the tournament’s highest caliber of swordsmanship, making each match a potential showcase of advanced technique and tactical sophistication.
Noah’s focus remained fixed on the upcoming confrontation with Kenzo, though he recognised that reaching the finals would require defeating whoever emerged from the other semifinal match. The path to victory demanded sustained excellence rather than a single moment of justice.
The referee addressed the spectators and remaining competitors with ceremonial authority, his voice cutting across the venue with a weight that came from long practice and tradition.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we now arrive at the semifinal stage of this prestigious tournament. Four exceptional swordsmen stand before us, having endured the elimination rounds through skill, willpower, and the refinement of their technique. Tomorrow, one among them will seize the honor of champion."
He extended an arm toward the competitors, his gesture deliberate and respectful, as though acknowledging not only their victories but also the ordeals that had shaped them.
"These four warriors represent the highest standard of competitive swordsmanship. Each has displayed mastery that lifts them above their peers, and each has earned the right to stand at the threshold of the final stage. Today, the matches will decide who will advance to contend for the ultimate prize."
A pause followed, long enough for the weight of his words to settle. The silence sharpened anticipation until the audience seemed to lean as one body toward the arena floor.
"Let us discover how fate chooses to align our semifinalists."
He approached a ceremonial bowl set upon a low stand at the centre of the stage. Inside rested four numbered balls, which were of the same white colour. The referee stirred them with slow, deliberate motions, the sound of wood against glass carrying faintly in the charged stillness. Every movement spoke of ritual, as though chance itself had to be honored with reverence.
When at last he withdrew his hand, he opened the first ball before taking out the small letter inside of it.
He held the first letter high, announcing it to everyone present.
"First name... Noah Carter!"
The crowd reacted at once, a swell of murmurs and sharp intakes of breath spreading through the stands.
Excitement clashed with unease. Many remembered the confrontation between Noah and Kenzo after Ichigo’s brutal defeat, and the memory crackled through the audience like a spark touching dry tinder.
All eyes turned toward Kenzo, waiting, hungry to see whether fate would answer the promise of retribution here and now or force the rivals to wait until the final clash.
The referee’s hand hovered above the bowl once more. The silence this time was heavier, pressing down on the arena until the sound of whispered speculation broke it into fragments.
"Will it be Kenzo?" a voice asked from the stands, urgent and low.
"This could end it before the finals even begin," another murmured, unable to look away from the bowl.
The referee reached inside once more, his movements measured, the suspense almost unbearable. Fingers closed around the second ball. The crowd seemed to stop breathing altogether, suspended between justice delivered at once and destiny postponing the inevitable duel.
"Noah’s opponent had been decided and it’s Hiroshi!"
Fortunately or unfortunately, it wasn’t Kenzo. It was Hiroshi.
The matches had been decided: Noah vs Hiroshi, and Liam vs Kenzo. The tournament brackets glowed on the massive display screen above the arena, each name pulsing with anticipation. The crowd’s murmur grew louder as they processed the matchups, some placing hurried bets while others debated the outcomes in hushed, excited tones.
Suddenly, a voice erupted from the crowd, cutting through the ambient noise like a blade.
"HIROSHI!"
All eyes turned toward the source. Kenji stood in the middle section, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. Hiroshi’s friend.
The same one who had been eliminated by Hiroshi earlier in the tournament was now rooting for him.
"You better win, Hiroshi!" Kenji shouted, "Otherwise, I’ll kill you myself!"
The threat hung in the air, but everyone could hear the underlying support beneath the harsh words.
It was Kenji’s way—rough around the edges but fiercely loyal. Some spectators chuckled at the display, while others nodded approvingly at the bond between friends.
Hiroshi paused mid-stride, his head turning toward Kenji’s voice. For a moment, his typically stoic expression softened. A genuine smile spread across his face.
He raised his hand in acknowledgment. "I hear you, Kenji," he called back, his voice carrying easily across the arena. "Don’t worry—I’m not planning to lose."
The crowd roared its approval at the exchange.
As their names echoed through the arena’s sound system, Hiroshi made his way toward the platform. Each step was measured, confident.
Kenji’s words had lit a fire in him—not out of fear of the threat, but out of determination not to disappoint someone who had placed such faith in him.
Hiroshi stepped onto the platform with a calm expression but a racing heart. He knew that this fight wasn’t going to be an easy one, Noah was a prime candidate for the championship.
Across from him, Noah was already in position, his own expression serious.
The referee moved between them, explaining rules that everyone already knew by heart. But Hiroshi wasn’t really listening.