A dull ache settled at the base of his skull, throbbing in time with the sluggish pulse of his awakening mind. The sensation was disorienting, as if he had been tossed through the void and left to piece himself back together. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive, as he forced his eyes open, blinking away the dizziness.

The ground beneath him was strange—too smooth to be stone, too firm to be metal. It pulsed faintly under his fingertips, a rhythmic hum that vibrated through his skin like a living entity. As his vision cleared, he noticed the intricate carvings embedded within the surface—runes etched with precision, glowing faintly in a way that suggested purpose rather than mere decoration. Something about them unsettled him, though the meaning eluded him for now.

Steadying himself, he pushed up to his feet, rolling his shoulders to dispel the lingering haze. Around him, others stirred, some groaning as they woke, others glancing about in frantic confusion. The sheer number of people was staggering—hundreds, perhaps more—gathered in what looked like the center of an enormous colosseum. High, ancient walls encased them, grand yet foreboding, their stone surfaces etched with similar runes as the ground beneath him. But unlike the floor, these markings shimmered subtly, as if reacting to their presence.

Looking around, he took note of the people around him. They appeared to be of similar age, mostly young adults, but their ethnicities varied widely. Skin tones ranged from pale to dark, body types from lean to broad-shouldered, creating a stark contrast against the uniformity of their confusion.

Beyond the walls of the colosseum, seated in structured rows of elaborate stone benches, another group watched. Unlike those within the colosseum, these people were composed, knowing. They sat with a quiet authority, their eyes fixed upon the waking bunch of people as though witnessing a routine spectacle. There was no confusion among them—only expectation.

A sharp screech pierced the air, the sound jagged and artificial—like the testing of an old microphone. The murmurs died instantly as all heads snapped toward the center of the colosseum, where a figure descended atop a floating platform.

He carried himself with effortless poise, a man clad in an immaculate tailcoat, complete with a polished cane, a monocle resting over one eye, and a neatly trimmed mustache. His air was one of control—calculating, practiced, refined. He looked like a butler from an era long past, yet something about the way he observed the gathered crowd made it clear he was no mere servant. His gaze held weight, dissecting, measuring.

“Ah, splendid. You are all finally awake.” His voice was smooth, crisp, and exuded an air of practiced courtesy, yet it carried an unmistakable coldness beneath its refined veneer. He turned first to the stands beyond the colosseum walls, where figures sat in high-backed seats, watching with detached interest. With a graceful bow, he addressed them first, his movements sharp yet elegant.

Only then did he turn his attention to the confused masses below. His monocle gleamed under the soft light, his thin smile unwavering.

“Welcome, Earth-dwellers, to Eldoria. I'm Martin.”

Silence followed, the weight of those words sinking into the minds of those gathered. The air thickened with unease, confusion teetering on the edge of panic. But the man on the floating platform remained unbothered, his expression composed as he continued.

“I understand that you must have many questions. I assure you, they will be answered in due time. However, for now, I must ask that you remain calm and follow my instructions.”

He lifted his cane, tapping it lightly against the platform. “To make this process smoother, I need each of you to either say the word ‘status’ aloud or think it within your mind. This will provide clarity on your situation and allow me to explain things properly.”

People hesitated. A few skeptically muttered the word under their breath. Others remained frozen, unwilling to participate in whatever this was.

Luke, however, acted without thinking. His instincts told him that information—any information—was valuable. He focused, thinking the word in his mind.

A translucent screen appeared before him, crisp and floating in the air.

Luke Raynott

Alignment: Neutral

Title: None

Class: None

Specialty: Instincts of the Weak (Passive)

Strength: 4 | Agility: 5 | Intelligence: 1 | Divinity: 0 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 7

Skills: None

Overall rating: Extremely Disappointing

Luke's mind stalled for a second. Then, instinctively, he thought, Shit.

He kept his face neutral, but inwardly, his gut twisted. He wasn’t much of a gamer, but he knew the basics of RPGs and stats—and his were abysmal. His intelligence and luck were especially worrying.

After a few moments, Martin continued, giving the gathered Earth-dwellers time to process. “You have been summoned to Eldoria, a world unlike your own. Compared to Earth, this one is rich with magic, filled with creatures and wonders beyond your understanding. Monsters roam the lands, and civilizations thrive under rulers with strength unimaginable to you.”

He paused for effect before continuing, his voice unwavering. “Every three years, Earth-dwellers are summoned, appearing within these very walls. The cause remains unknown, the method a mystery even to our greatest scholars. However—” he lifted his chin, his expression growing reverent, “—the great Seluvian Empire has shown you mercy. They have created programs and opportunities for your kind to integrate, to learn, and to survive in this world. You will be given guidance, resources, and a future.”

Luke’s lips pressed into a thin line. That was all well and good, but something nagged at him. Why has no one acted out yet? His knowledge of clichés told him this was the part where some idiot would start throwing a fit—only to be made an example of.

And right on cue—

“What the hell is this bullshit?!”

A voice rang out, sharp and furious. A blonde-haired young man pushed to his feet, his face flushed with frustration. “Enough with this nonsense! This has gone on long enough. Who the hell do you think you are? Do you have any idea who my father is? He’s a congressman—he’ll ruin you all for this!”

Martin barely moved. He simply sighed, adjusting his monocle. “I advise you to remain calm.”

“Like hell I will! You’re all going to jail when this is over—”

The cane in Martin’s hand flicked forward in a blur of motion.

For a moment, the blonde-haired youth’s expression remained unchanged—furious, indignant. Then, his head slipped from his shoulders, falling to the ground with a dull thud.

The body remained standing for a breath before it, too, crumpled.

A cold silence followed.

Martin smoothly lowered his cane. His tone remained impeccably composed as he addressed the crowd. “Let that be a lesson. I will not repeat myself. Remain calm and listen.”

A few stifled shrieks broke the silence, others barely suppressing their retches. Luke felt his stomach turn, but he swallowed the feeling down. He had expected an example to be made—but he hadn’t expected execution.

Noted, he thought grimly. Don’t be stupid.

Martin adjusted his monocle, his expression unfazed as he regarded the shaken crowd. "Now that we have established the importance of discipline, let us move forward."

With a wave of his hand, the floating platform beneath him descended slightly. In the center of the colosseum, a circular podium began to rise, its surface adorned with a single, ornate red medallion. The artifact pulsed with a faint, rhythmic glow, an inviting yet ominous presence amidst the chaos of the gathered Earth-dwellers.

"From this point onward," Martin continued, "each of you will step forward in an orderly fashion and place your hand upon this medallion. It will display your status for all to see. This is an opportunity. If you are fortunate, those in the stands may find you worthy of investment."

Luke’s eyes narrowed slightly. Investment? The way Martin phrased it felt deliberately sugarcoated. It didn’t take much for him to connect the dots. This so-called 'sponsorship' was nothing more than a glorified form of purchase. While the money would technically go to the individuals being sponsored, it was clear that the benefactors would still hold the real power according to what he gathered from Martin's talks. The funds would be used to nurture potential candidates into powerful figures, but those figures would ultimately remain indebted to their sponsors.

Just another game of power and control, Luke mused. He wasn’t surprised.

"Candidates," Martin said, emphasizing the word with an air of authority. "That is what you shall be known as. Each of you will be trained, educated, and prepared to integrate into our world. Your potential will determine your future, and it all begins with this first step."

The crowd remained tense, but no one dared to object. The memory of the headless blonde was still fresh, a silent warning that echoed louder than any words.

Luke folded his arms, watching carefully as the first person hesitantly stepped forward. They approached the podium with a mix of fear and apprehension before placing their hand on the medallion.

Instantly, a large, translucent screen materialized above the podium, displaying the individual’s stats for all to see.

A murmur rippled through the seated audience beyond the colosseum walls. From their reactions, Luke could tell that the display was underwhelming.

One by one, the process continued. Each person revealed their stats, the large screen making it visible to all. As time passed, Luke slowly confirmed something unsettling—his ability to see stats was unique. No one else reacted before the medallion revealed its information, confirming that he alone possessed this advantage.

Is this a skill? Luke thought. Or just an anomaly?

He kept his expression neutral, but inwardly, his thoughts raced. This ability, whatever it was, gave him an edge. He could evaluate everyone before their stats were publicly revealed, giving him a window of time to understand what was considered exceptional and what was not.

After nearly an hour, the crowd was beginning to understand the standards. Out of all those who had stepped forward, only two had managed to catch the eye of the seated audience.

"Ram Rajput," Martin announced as the large screen displayed his stats. "Strength: 14."

A low murmur of approval came from the lower audience seats, and soon after, a sponsorship offer appeared on the screen.

"Joshua Ambers," Martin continued. "Intelligence: 15."

Once again, another offer came through, this time for a slightly higher amount.

Luke took note of the reactions. It’s about high stats, not just specific ones. Both Ram and Joshua had clearly exceeded the norm in their respective areas. If someone had exceptional stats in another category, they’d likely be selected as well.

The sponsorship amounts were displayed openly—1,000 Sils for Ram and 1,200 Sils for Joshua. The fact that the currency was now introduced made Luke file it away for future use. Sils must be the standard currency here.

His gaze drifted toward the audience, studying the sponsors. They sat with a calculated air, their expressions passive yet judgmental. It was clear they were weighing their options carefully, investing in potential assets rather than showing any generosity.

Luke sighed inwardly. I’d have chosen those two as well. Their stats stand out too much from the average.

Just then, a meek-looking girl with an anxious expression stepped onto the podium. Her hazel hair framed a delicate face, large brown eyes darting nervously across the crowd. There was an innocence about her, the kind that stirred protective instincts in most.

She’s definitely getting selected, Luke thought, certainty settling in his mind. He had already seen her stats—only one other person had higher numbers than her.

The girl hesitated briefly before placing her hand on the medallion, and in an instant, her status appeared on the screen above.

Jasmine Lakeshore

Alignment: Good (Extreme)

Title: None

Class: None

Specialty: Divine Halo (Passive)

Strength: 8 | Agility: 10 | Intelligence: 14 | Divinity: 20 | Luck: 1 | Wisdom: 7

Skills: Heal, To The Hurt (Passive)

Overall rating: A Genius

A hushed silence fell over the audience before whispers erupted. Even the unflappable Martin let out an appreciative, "Oh my, my."

With a practiced showman’s flair, he gestured toward the VIP section. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe you all understand the rarity of what we are witnessing here. A genius with such a high Divinity stat is unheard of. And let us not forget the skills she possesses—'Heal' and 'To The Hurt' is a passive ability exclusive to Saintesses. A true gem!"

An intense bidding war ensued. The numbers climbed at an astonishing pace until the final bid settled at a staggering 50,000 Sils. The highest bid so far.

Jasmine’s anxious fidgeting only increased as the process unfolded, but she remained silent. Whatever she was feeling, she kept to herself.

As the selection continued, around twelve more individuals were sponsored. But then, another record-breaking bid shocked everyone.

"Roy Wilson! Strength: 27. Agility: 25!" Martin’s voice rang out.

The moment those numbers flashed on the screen, the bidding frenzy resumed. The final price? A jaw-dropping 93,000 Sils.

Luke’s mind whirled, processing the significance of the numbers. At this point, one thing was abundantly clear—they were being sold.

After slowly gathering whatever intel he could from Martin's talks, he had come to a fair conclusion. The Seluvian Empire owned them all. The sponsorships were merely a formalized transfer of ownership, with 90% of the bid amount going to the individual and 10% directly to the empire.

So that’s why Martin is putting on this whole performance. It’s all about maximizing profits.

And then, at last, it was his turn.

Luke stepped forward, his expression unreadable, but deep inside, determination burned. I don’t want to be labeled as useless.

It was in his nature to always appear at his best, to never show weakness. His stats weren’t impressive, but after observing the process carefully, he had formulated a plan.

With steady steps, he approached the podium, fully aware that everything was riding on what happened next.