Defeat one of us

Those high sounds of men woke him up, feeling the hall lighter than usual. He stood up and looked at a massive number of men gathering around the large arena in the center of the training hall, numbering more than a hundred.

In the midst, two men were fighting, while the rest cheered loudly.

"What are they doing?" Niard asked the boy nearby, he was wearing glasses, he seemed weak not like the rest with strong muscles. 

"It's the Assessor's qualifiers activities.By the way, how did you get in here?" the boy replied, his voice filled with doubt about Niard.

Niard quickly stepped back as he felt the clear intent to kill emanating from the boy. He retreated, not realizing that the arena had no fence and fell inside it. 

"Kill the intruder! Kill him!" The men outside the arena shouted, their voices echoing in the place. Niard felt the pressure mounting.

"Since you stepped into the arena with your own feet, you won't leave unless you defeat one of us. Are you a newcomer? I haven't seen you before," a man with a dragon tattoo on his chest, his muscular physique rendering Niard speechless, said.

"I don't want to fight any of you," Niard explained hesitantly, watching the man warming up to strike him.

"Will I die on my first day at the academy? My luck is so bad. Oh, magical powers, come on awaken," Niard said to himself, he observed the man running towards him. 

He had avoided the tattooed man's blow with difficulty, Niard barely managed to evade, "Nice move, kid," the man said in a voice that made Niard's heart tremble. Three punches on the stomach made Niard spit blood.

He was on the verge of death, struggling to stand on his feet. He hadn't expected this establishment to be a den for lunatics, bloodthirsty enthusiasts. His face swollen from the blows, he had become a punching bag for these men to toy with as they pleased.

Niard felt his body somehow syncing with every kick or punch it endured. Wiping the blood beside his lips, he clenched his fist and mimicked the man's stance. One of his eyes swelled, narrowing his field of vision, his body trembling from his toes to the top of his head.

"Urgent mission: Deliver a knockout blow to the opponent, reward is unknown." The display screen appeared in the middle of the fight, momentarily distracting Niard, who was then kicked until he fell on his stomach at the edge of the ring next to the other man, who kicked him hard, settling Niard's body in the middle of the arena.

These men made him a football to be kicked around.

 "Won't you give up, boy?" mouthed the tattooed man, his expression concerned for Niard, who had been struggling for a quarter of an hour to stand on his feet.

"I haven't fallen yet. You can't determine my defeat old man," Niard said loudly, momentarily silencing the audience before they resumed cheering, reveling in Niard's misery.

"Normally, I don't enjoy hitting the weak, but I'll rid you of your arrogance, boy," the tattooed man said confidently, rushing towards Niard, who sharpened his focus and exerted all his energy against the man's movements.

"The knockout blow," he whispered softly, pulling his foot back as he leaned forward. He didn't consider escaping from the monster moving towards him.

 "I'll be merciful," said the tattooed man, his wicked smile showing his love for breaking bones. He planned to hit Niard in the stomach, momentarily thinking he had succeeded, but a blink of one of Niard's eyes and he wasn't there in front of him.

"Where did that miserable boy go? He's completely disappeared," the man said in furious anger, the first time he had missed hitting his opponent.

"Down here, sir," Niard whispered between his teeth. His punch preceded his words, smashing the man's jaw. He fell to the ground without movement, the hall silent as if time had stopped in that scene where the man fell to the ground.

Niard stared at his hand, the one that struck the man. His eyes widened with joy, the first time he had succeeded in hitting someone. He had always been the victim in fights.

"Did I really do it? I brought down this man. I hit him with my fist," Niard said in astonishment, his hand still flashing with a bright blue light, which quickly dissipated after the system message appeared before him.

"Mission reward: Choose one of the following boxes," Niard read the message and fell to his knees on the ground, unable to move. There were three strange-shaped boxes. Niard hesitated in his choice. This system never helped him, even the feeling of pain was real.

Niard pressed the box in the middle. Two seconds passed, then another notification appeared. "Congratulations! You have obtained an exceptional healing ability. Your wounds will gradually heal in each battle in exchange for ten level points."

Niard's eyes widened in astonishment. He began to feel an improvement in his wounds. "The system doesn't lie. Damn it, everyone will discover the magical system's orders, I had to hurry up and leave this place,"

Niard said, starting to move out of the hall. He didn't care about what the men around him were saying; their glances were terrifying.

One of the men, angered by the loss of their friend, stopped him. They noticed that his wounds were beginning to heal on their own, causing everyone to back away in fear.

"Are you one of the chosen ones, the ones developed by those crazy scientists, hey boy?" said a man holding a dagger emanating a strange purple energy. Niard didn't respond; he was completely lost in his thought, his mind entirely scattered.

"I must be careful not to get hurt. If I want to advance to the next level, I must train more. If only there's a way to increase my level points..." he thought to himself, ignoring everyone.