Oblivion's Throne-Chapter 103: Not bad for a pacifist

Orion's bracelet vibrated against his wrist. The midway ranking update.

He flicked his gaze to the holographic interface, scanning the names as he adjusted his grip on the sword. Kieran's techniques were fluid but demanding—small adjustments made all the difference.

He scrolled through the rankings while casually shifting through footwork drills. Top 1000 names. He memorized them in under seven minutes.

Some names stood out.

Renji Carridan (#6) and Elle Vorst (#7) – Commoners outperforming nobles. That was unexpected.

Ares Petrosyan (#19) – The second-highest-ranked Confederate. Decent, but not a threat.

Aurelia Velstrane (#1) – Still untouched at the top.

Orion's own placement?

2nd place. 540 points. Casually keeping up with the Dominion's best.

He let the numbers settle in his mind. More than rankings, he analyzed fighting styles. These names represented future encounters—potential allies or enemies.

Aurelia was predictable. Her swordplay was refined but lacked unpredictability. Darian Kairon (#3), however, was a wildcard. The way he fought suggested he wasn't burning all his cards yet. Erasmus Alvarix (#4) was another one to watch—aggressive, but reckless.

Renji and Elle, though... commoners at the top? That meant raw talent or something hidden.

Orion wasn't memorizing names just for the sake of it—he was recruiting. Unlike the nobility, who had years of elite training and family resources, commoners who made it into the top 1000 had raw talent, adaptability, and sheer willpower. Even if they eventually dropped in rank, the fact that they climbed this high in the first place proved their potential. These were the kinds of people worth keeping an eye on—fighters who could excel with the right guidance. Nobles had their own loyalties, their own networks, but commoners? They were free agents, waiting for the right opportunity. Orion intended to give them one.

He didn't care about the rankings themselves—he cared about what they revealed. A noble in the top ranks was expected, but a commoner breaking into the top 10? That was a statement. Renji Carridan and Elle Vorst were already proving that talent could upset tradition. There were likely hundreds more like them just outside the rankings, their potential hidden beneath exhaustion and inexperience. Orion took his time memorizing names, mentally sorting through those who might be worth approaching later. The battlefield wasn't just a competition—it was a recruitment ground.

Orion exhaled and continued refining Kieran's swordplay. He made small corrections to his angles, adjusting the flow between transitions. His footwork became sharper, his grip lighter, his strikes more instinctive.

Cadets were exhausted, clinging to whatever strength they had left. Fights were becoming sloppier—desperation creeping into every movement. Some were still hunting for points. Others were hiding, hoping their current score would be enough.

Orion moved through the chaos with effortless grace.

Where others stumbled, he flowed. Where others hesitated, he moved forward. Light steps. Relaxed posture. Like a casual walk through a training exercise.

A shadow lunged from the side—fast, precise. A Dominion noble. One of the top 50. He carried a long sabre, his movements controlled and deliberate.

Orion tilted his head, parrying lazily.

The noble's eyes flickered with frustration. He pressed forward, but Orion's movements were calm, exploratory. Each deflection tested angles, speed, efficiency. He wasn't fighting.

He was studying.

A few more exchanges, and Orion had seen enough.

With a slight pivot, he cut through the noble's defenses, a simple but impeccably timed thrust to the shoulder. The noble froze, his weapon clattering to the ground.

[ +5 points. ]

Orion exhaled through his nose. "Sloppy," he muttered, stepping over his opponent.

He continued walking.

Another movement in the distance—creatures, large and feral, prowling between the broken ruins. The Academy's warbeasts. Artificially bred for the test, each worth 10 points per kill.

Orion flexed his fingers against the sword hilt. More practice.

He strode toward them, cutting through the first with measured precision. A smooth slash to the throat. The second one lunged, and he pivoted, dissecting its momentum with a clean thrust to the chest.

No rush. Just movement. Refinement. Perfection.

His bracelet beeped again.

[ +20 points.]

Cadets nearby were panting, battered, and desperate. Orion?

He hadn't even broken a sweat.

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Four hours left.

He was just getting started.

Orion's bracelet buzzed against his wrist. Another ranking update. He glanced down, skimming through the names with mild interest. No surprises. Aurelia was still ahead, sitting comfortably at 980 points. He was right behind her at 940, despite barely putting in any effort. The others weren't even close—Erasmus Alvarix at 720 points, Darian Kairon at 690, and, much to Orion's amusement, Renji Carridan and Elle Vorst still holding their spots in 6th and 7th place.

That was impressive. Most commoners, no matter how skilled, struggled to maintain their momentum against the sheer resources and experience of noble cadets. But these two? They were still here, still climbing. That meant something. Orion closed his ranking display, rolling his shoulders. He had been passive long enough, letting the battlefield sort itself out while he observed. But with two hours left, the real competition was about to begin. He exhaled, flexing his grip on his sword. Time to move.

The battlefield transformed into his hunting ground. For the past ten hours, Orion had paced himself, letting the over-eager cadets wear each other down. But now? He moved with purpose. The difference was immediate.

In less than an hour, 23 cadets fell to his blade. They barely had time to react—by the time they saw him, it was already over. Some tried to run. Others fought back, desperate to hold onto their ranks. None of them were fast enough. Each elimination netted him 5 points, stacking rapidly.

Then came the high-value monsters. Ten in total, each worth 10 points. Where others hesitated, Orion was surgical. He didn't waste movements. Every slash, every step—it was efficient, calculated. Monsters were just moving targets in his eyes.

By the time the final ranking update came, he didn't even need to check. 1,180 points. First place. Aurelia had held her lead for almost the entire trial, but Orion had crushed it in an hour. A full 200 points ahead.

He let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his exertion settle in. One hour left. Now, he just had to hold his ground.

The final minute ticked down. Orion stood at the highest point of the battlefield—a broken spire overlooking the war-torn landscape. The arena had gone eerily silent. Most cadets had either fallen or given up, knowing they couldn't climb the ranks in time.

His bracelet vibrated one last time. Final rankings locked.

[Final Ranking: ]

[ 1st – Orion Reyes (1,180 points) ]

[ 2nd – Aurelia Velstrane (980 points) ] 

[ 3rd – Erasmus Alvarix (720 points) ]

Orion exhaled, rolling his shoulders. It was over.

A slow clap echoed behind him. He turned, spotting Aurelia standing a few meters away. Her uniform was torn, her braid slightly loosened, but her expression was calm—almost amused.

"So," she said, voice light despite the exhaustion in her eyes. "You finally stopped holding back."

Orion smirked. "Had to give everyone else a chance first."

Aurelia shook her head, a tired chuckle escaping her lips. For the first time in hours, there was no tension—just mutual respect. She took a step forward, extending a gloved hand.

Orion took it without hesitation, although Aurelia was weird at times he came to respect her more.

Orion wiped a streak of dirt from his cheek. "Not half bad for a pacifist."

Aurelia scoffed, shaking her head. "Pacifist doesn't mean helpless."

For a moment, they simply stood there, surrounded by the remnants of battle, sharing a rare moment of understanding.

Then, the transports arrived. The Selection War was over.