(Arc: Vainum) Anderson's Tournament

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the Anderson family."

A loud round of applause echoed throughout the city as a group of dignified figures boasting chic garments sat on throne-like chairs positioned all around the arena. My eyes were immediately drawn to a man in particular... we looked exactly alike. My heart pounded like a drum. That man must be my father.

"Master Carlos is still quite pathetic, he doesn't have any children to represent him. He may have once been a talented person from the Anderson family but that doesn't matter now."

From what I could gather, all of the family looked down upon my father because he did not have any successors or disciples. That would soon change.

"Third brother your children must have mastered the arts of camouflage, I don't see them," a man said to my father. His entourage laughed in unison like a pack of hyenas.

My uncle's comments made my blood boil.

"Stop bickering among yourselves."

That voice belonged to the strongest figure in the region; it was the patriarch of the clan, Lucas Anderson. Having reached the ninth level in both energy circulation and swordsmanship, it was not far-fetched to claim that he was at the peak.

Every participant grabbed a number and following a chart, corresponding numbers would spar. This ensured randomness and that strong fighters would not choose small fries for easy victories.

Fighters from the clan were allowed to skip this stage. I had three fights before I could have the pleasure of bashing one of my cousin's head in. That was where the fun would begin. I only used serpent slash for my first fights as I thought it best to keep Anderson swordsmanship for later. Despite me wearing a mask and a hood, my fighting skills were still as spectacular.

My fights seemed to wow everyone including the patriarch. All of the fights were ended with a single strike that disarmed my competitor. My simple maneuvers combined with how gracefully I executed them gave off the impression that I was toying with my opponents. My three adversaries were comparatively weak and subpar; they were all below the fourth stage of energy circulation and swordsmanship.

None of my fights were particularly challenging so far, but that would change now. My opponent was Roy Anderson, the son of the man who mocked my father. I would have a field day with humiliating him.

"Can he beat him?"

"Don't be silly, do you think they'd allow an outsider to become the successor?"

The crowd was busy speculating about the fight while I stared my opponent down with a stern expression.

Roy took the initiative and lunged towards me at full speed and sent his sword barreling down towards my head. A smile grew on my face as I moved out of the trajectory of the blade and kicked him mid-air.

"Quite pathetic for someone so arrogant," I said to rub salt in the wound.

Throughout the battle, I did not even bother unsheathing my sword and kept my hands behind my back. The gesture seemed to greatly annoy Patriarch Lucas. The spectators had their jaws on the floor as they watched my performance. Out of the blue, I slapped him across the face causing him to stumble back and almost falling over. He frowned and clenched his fists ready for payback. His knuckles made their way towards me but, from my point of view, he seemed to be moving in slow motion. I simply moved to the side and slapped him once again.

After a humiliating fifteen minutes, my opponent forfeited. It was now time for the final bout; my adversary was the first grandson of the patriarch. His eyes gave off the impression that they could cut diamonds as he looked straight through my soul. He attempted to intimidate me, but I was closer to laughter. We were face-to-face when he said,

"You are strong but why did you humiliate my family?"

"You'll find out soon enough weakling."

His eyebrows were drawn together and he turned bright red.

As soon as the match started, he thrusted his sword towards me. His strike seemed to distort the space around it and I instinctively knew that it was dangerous to take such a strike head-on. He was not shabby at all having reached the fifth stage in both energy circulation and swordsmanship. I made use of Anderson swordsmanship to counterattack; the patriarch's eyes widened at this sight and yelled,

"How does he know that skill, who the hell is he?"

The skill was usually only taught to the patriarch and his immediate family. Everyone seemed equally perplexed but the crowd couldn't stop themselves from cheering for me. My opponent was anxiously clutching his sword. The thought of losing to an outsider fuelled his anger and killing intent.

The sound of swords clashing reverberated throughout the arena. In a flash, I was met with his blade; he had managed to get past my defence and posed a threat. The weapon slashed my face as I retreated to the side. Blood was dribbling down my cheek.

I had to take this fight seriously if I wanted to achieve victory. My bodyweight shifted to my front leg and in the blink of an eye, I was under his nose and thrusted my sword into his abdomen. He had managed to escape my attack, but he wasn't unscathed; blood gushed out of the wound and he was desperately trying to reduce the damage. His efforts were unfruitful.

The match was prolonged and grueling, he could hold his own even against me. My fist came tumbling down and striked his face. Out of desperation, he whaled his arms but his efforts were in vain. I simply dodged and punched him some more.

Blood was oozing out of his orices and his eyes were void of life. He was being battered in front of everyone. His body dropped to the floor and I continued with my onslaught. Blood was oozing from his head and resembled a water fountain.

"Stop!" the patriarch yelled, "he admits defeat, so stop before you do something you'll regret. You're officially the successor of the clan, choose one of my sons as your master."

It was time for me to reveal my identity to the world.

"I choose him," I said while pointing to the third son

My decision greatly shocked everyone. The fist son even said,

"Are you sure about this? He has no influence."

"If a son doesn't choose his father, then what good is he?" I replied as I removed my mask.

My father was left open-mouthed as he tried to form words but simply couldn't. A tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes.

The second son of the patriarch prepared to attack me but my father released his killing intent to deter him from doing anything brash; my father was the second strongest amongst the brothers just behind the first son.

"You will not touch a strand of hair on his head."

Carlos soared through the air and landed in front of me. His emotions still ran wild as he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms.

"I'm sorry for what I did."

"I understand your situation and don't worry, I'm here now," I replied with a grin.