"My na is Magnus Ashborn," he declared with his voice carrying across the hall. "It’s my honor to introduce a competition jointly designed by the Awakened Association and New Dawn."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. A competition? Here? Now? Designed by him?
Magnus allowed the silence to settle before he spoke again. The weight of his presence alone was enough to steady the crowd and demand their attention. When he finally spoke into the microphone again, the air tightened, held taut by thousands of waiting ears.
"With the global dungeon break phenonon, humanity’s understanding of our new world has been shaken to its very core again, for the first ti since the mana apocalypse’s arrival."
The words fell heavy across the staging hall.
"We still do not know who the female voice that announced the so-called grace period’s end belonged to. We still don’t know how the dungeons broke all at once. And multiple countries with weaker awakened forces have already been consud by the rampaging monster hordes."
He paused, allowing the brutal truth to sink in.
There was no raised tone, no shouting, no desperate emphasis.
He didn’t need any. His voice alone carried the kind of authority that demanded attention, the tone of soone who had walked through fire and returned with enough conviction to move nations.
That is to say... This man was talented at giving speeches in public. There was a reason why he was the day-to-day leader of New Dawn and not Vespera. She was more of a murder machine of the highest order. It wasn’t that she was incapable of doing desk duties, not at all. But her talent clearly lay on the battlefield.
Magnus, anwhile, was less of a force of nature as a combatant - though he was still beyond powerful, just more in the controlled, tactical way - but his leadership abilities were top-notch. People often found themselves pulled into his presence, his rugged charisma, and his great skill of presenting himself as a fierce leader.
The crowd quieted as Magnus continued, "That is why the United States must ensure that our awakened remain strong and competent - ahead of the curve, if you will."
’The curve’ was a new theory pushed around in the higher circles, saying that, as it was pretty much official that the first ten years after the mana apocalypse was a tutorial period, the difficulty was not exactly lesser but more contained. Dungeons broke only after a short ti; the highest dungeons were estimated at B-rank, and if one didn’t enter a dungeon, they could more or less live life as they did before the apocalypse.
Thus, humanity was slowly being lulled into a state of comfort. But now, it was clear that any such thought of comfort was unjustified.
The countries that held the strongest awakened forces still thrived after the global dungeon breaks, using it as a great way to farm levels; while many were outright consud by it.
That was the ’curve.’
You had to stay ahead, or be consud.
Magnus’ gaze swept the raised platforms, the guild balconies carved into the cliffs, the outer rings where latecors stood with barely space to breathe. "Because the next ti a new and unknown phenonon breaks our understanding of the way the world should operate, we must be ready again. Ready to face the danger. Ready to protect our citizens. Ready to defend our families."
There was no dramatic flourish. No theatrics. But the simplicity of his conviction, delivered with the tone of a knight out of legend speaking to the last surviving kingdom, struck deep. Even the people who disliked New Dawn found themselves listening, unable to deny that the man’s presence embodied the very idea of duty.
A hard swallow passed through the crowd before hushed murmurs slipped free.
"He didn’t even question it... he thinks a third event like this is guaranteed."
"Was that a warning?"
"God, if he says it, it feels real. That’s terrifying."
"Magnus Ashborn isn’t a man who guesses. If he’s speaking this way... then sothing worse really might be coming."
Those whispers weren’t full of panic, but a deep, cold realization. When a man like Magnus spoke of future catastrophes as inevitabilities, even the strongest awakened felt the chill.
Far beyond the mountain range, in living rooms, kitchens, dorms, and shelters across the country, millions watched the broadcast live.
The journalists who had been knocked over earlier had kept their caras rolling - unless they broke during the fall...
Magnus’s image stread into countless hos. People who had grown numb to dungeon footage found themselves sitting forward, transfixed.
An elderly veteran in Michigan murmured at the screen, "New Dawn’s finest... they are resolute."
A mother in Atlanta clutched her child a little tighter as she whispered, "He’s fighting for us..."
A pair of college students in Texas stared wide-eyed at the projection, one of them nodding vigorously. "Damn... New Dawn is insane. While the other two top-tier guilds are stuck in their ways, they are ready to embrace the future."
His friend nodded, "New Dawn... A fitting na, I’d say."
A man in a cramped New York apartnt exhaled slowly, softening his features. "Say what you want, but if Magnus Ashborn says he’ll protect us... I already feel safer."
Across the country, praise grew like a spreading tide.
"New Dawn is incredible."
"Magnus is a real hero."
Magnus waited until the distant waves of praise and awe - echoing through both the staging hall and the broadcast screens across the country - faded into silence. Only then did he speak again, his tone shifting from inspirational to clipped, practical, and unmistakably decisive.
"The competition is simple."
Just those words pulled every awakened in the basin to attention.
"Each guild will field a combat group of up to fifty mbers. Those fifty may divide into smaller squads or operate as one unit."
He let the choice hang, knowing full well how different guilds optimized their people. So excelled in specialized strike teams; others preferred overwhelming force.
"The goal is straightforward: kill monsters. Earn points."
He raised a hand and unfolded the rules with the clean efficiency of a man accustod to issuing battlefield orders.
"Monsters level twenty-five and below are worth one point. Levels twenty-six to fifty earn ten points. Fifty-one to seventy-five earn fifty. Seventy-six to one hundred earn two hundred fifty."
He let the final tier fall with heavy weight:
"Monsters above one hundred are worth five hundred points."
Behind him, a screen materialized, displaying it for all to see.
1-25 = 1P
26-50 = 10P
51-75 = 50P
76-100 = 250P
101 = 500P
A murmur rolled through the staging hall; many were already strategizing, optimizing the hunt.
Magnus didn’t acknowledge the crowd’s reaction.
"Furthermore, monsters fall into two classifications. Horde-types and Apex-types."
Horde-types were the swarming, mass-beast species that moved together, often dangerous in numbers but individually weak. Apex-types were the true predators, creatures born to dominate on their own.
"Apex-types are significantly stronger than horde-types of the sa level. That’s why they will grant double points."
"All kills will be verified by the Association through overseers and remote observation artifacts and caras. Cheating will not be tolerated."
Then he raised a single finger.
"However, as this competition is designed to strengthen the awakened force of our nation, there must be consequences for recklessness or plain incompetence."
A wave of confusion moved over the gathered awakened, followed almost imdiately by dread.
"Consequences?"
"Does he an...?"
"No way, right?"
"Is he talking about penalties?"
Magnus didn’t elaborate imdiately. The anticipation built sharply.
He continued in the sa steady voice, "If a guild wishes to field fifty mbers, they must be prepared to account for their safety but also to select a competent group of people. This competition does not reward carelessness, and it will not allow guilds to treat their mbers as disposable."
A few gasps cut through the air. One guild officer swore under his breath.
"How harsh...?"
"What’s the penalty going to be?"
"Twenty-five points?"
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