Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

The atmosphere grew tense as the crowd's earlier enthusiasm faded into anxiety. But just as the murmurs of doubt began to spread, a figure emerged from the group with an air of unshakable confidence.

This man had a strong, imposing build and short brown hair. His very presence exuded an aura of authority and nobility, causing the whispers in the crowd to grow louder.

"It's Cedric Valen," someone hissed, the name spreading quickly through the spectators like wildfire.

Cedric Valen—a prodigy from the esteemed Valen family. He was known far and wide, not just for his strength, but also for his undeniable arrogance.

At 21 years old, Cedric had already reached the two-star level, boasting a mana purity of 15%. He walked with the unmistakable air of someone who believed himself superior to everyone around him. His gaze swept over the fallen participants, a sneer curling his lips.

"Weaklings," Cedric scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. He didn't bother hiding his contempt, making it abundantly clear that he held those who had tried before him in the lowest regard.

As he approached the stone, Cedric's confidence was palpable. His steps were measured, his posture radiating command.

Turning slightly, he addressed the envoy, his tone almost polite but laced with unmistakable arrogance. "I assume weapons aren't necessary for this?" he asked, though his smirk suggested he already knew the answer.

The envoy gave a simple nod, his expression neutral but observant.

"Good," Cedric muttered with satisfaction, pleased with the confirmation. He rolled his shoulders and assumed his stance, every movement deliberate and controlled.

Cedric was a master of the Titan's Endurance Cultivation Manual, a powerful technique that emphasized immense physical strength and resilience—qualities his family was famous for. Weapons? They were for the weak, or so Cedric believed.

"Let me show you the true power of the Titan," Cedric declared, his voice carrying across the arena with an air of superiority. His eyes gleamed with confidence as he drew back his fist, channeling every ounce of his strength into the punch. With a fierce roar, he unleashed his power, driving his fist into the stone with all his might.

The impact was nothing short of tremendous. The stone, which had withstood all previous attempts, finally cracked under the force of Cedric's blow. A visible fracture spread across its surface, drawing gasps of amazement from the crowd.

Cedric stepped back, his expression smug, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He didn't need to say anything more—his actions had spoken louder than any words could.

The envoy, impressed despite himself, smiled and announced, "Cedric Valen, passed."

As Cedric stepped back, basking in the admiration of the crowd, another figure confidently emerged from the group. This time, it was Julian Margrave, another well-known prodigy, hailing from the prestigious Margrave family.

Julian, at 20 years old, had also achieved the two-star level, though his mana purity was slightly lower at 13%. Despite this, his talent and potential were undeniable, earning him the reputation of a rising star.

Julian's eyes locked onto Cedric with a piercing gaze, the rivalry and disdain unmistakable in his expression. "Quite the display of brute force, Cedric," Julian drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But let me show you what real power looks like—power that doesn't rely on mindless muscle."

Cedric arched an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? And what's your plan, Julian?" he sneered, his tone mocking. "Gonna whisper sweet nothings at the stone and hope it crumbles?"

Julian didn't take the bait, remaining calm and composed, his focus entirely on the task at hand. "Just watch and learn," he responded coolly, his voice carrying an air of superiority.

Julian cultivated the Tempest's Grace Cultivation Manual, a technique that expertly harnessed the power of wind magic. With a swift movement, Julian stepped forward, his expression one of unwavering concentration. He raised his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, he cast Wind Cut, sending a sharp blade of wind hurtling toward the stone.

The wind blade struck with pinpoint accuracy, carving a deep scratch into the stone's surface. The crowd held its breath, watching in anticipation, but the damage, though evident, fell short of the severity of Cedric's earlier punch.

Cedric's sneer deepened, his voice laced with disdain. "Is that the best you've got, Julian? You call that power?" His tone was dripping with condescension, clearly unimpressed.

Julian, unfazed by Cedric's derision, met his gaze with a smirk of his own. "This is merely a test of brute strength, Cedric," he retorted, his voice smooth and cutting. "In any real challenge, I'd easily outshine you. But by all means, enjoy your fleeting moment of glory."

The tension between the two prodigies was electric, their rivalry evident in every word and gesture. It was clear to all that, while nobles often shared bonds of blood, wealth, and influence, their prodigies frequently clashed, each striving to prove their superiority.

The envoy, observing their exchange with mild amusement, nodded in acknowledgment. "Julian Margrave, passed," he announced, his voice cutting through the air.

With a smirk playing on his lips, the envoy turned his gaze to the remaining participants, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and challenge. "Well?" he called out, his tone dripping with mockery. "Who among you dares to try next? Or have you all decided to leave the real tests to the prodigies?" His words hung in the air, taunting the others to step up and prove their worth.