As Leo stepped onto the prison terrace, his gaze instinctively lifted to the night sky, and what he saw froze him in place.

Seven moons.

They hung like silent sentinels in the vast, dark expanse above, their pale light barely piercing the oppressive shadows of the night.

Each moon was different—some small and faint, others larger and more pronounced—but all seemed to hover at odd angles, their uneven glow casting fractured patches of illumination across the cracked and crumbling terrace.

'Seven? There's supposed to be one moon in the night sky. Just one,' Leo thought, the certainty of the fact unsettling him.

It was strange. He remembered so little about his past, yet this detail felt significant, almost ingrained in his very being. The sight of seven moons seemed to mock that certainty, leaving him momentarily disoriented.

But despite its otherworldly beauty, there was no comfort to be found in Rodova's alien night. The darkness was cold, heavy, and oppressive, pressing down on him like an invisible weight.

Leo's gaze lingered upward for only a fleeting moment before he pulled his focus back to the terrace. Whatever awe he had felt was quickly replaced by unease as he surveyed the barren expanse around him.

The terrace stretched wide and empty, offering an unobstructed view of the surrounding prison grounds. It was an excellent spot for spotting potential threats but a terrible place to avoid them.

'Great for seeing trouble coming. Terrible for avoiding it,' Leo thought grimly, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of danger.

There wasn't a single pillar or large concrete block to provide cover. No shadows to conceal them if someone approached. The space was completely exposed—a predator's perch, not a refuge.

His grip on his dagger tightened as his unease deepened. After the near-death experience in his last fight, Leo's confidence had waned. The fragility of his abilities had been laid bare, and the realization left him hesitant to engage in any more battles tonight.

'No more fights,' Leo resolved silently. 'Not unless there's no other choice.'

"Let's just wait this out," he muttered under his breath. "No more fights unless we have to."

Behind him, Felix let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. He tipped his last gourd of alcohol upside down and shook it desperately. A single drop fell out, landing on the ground with a faint plop.

"Damn it," Felix cursed, his tone equal parts frustration and resignation. "That's it. I'm dry."

Leo frowned, his gaze snapping toward Felix. "What do you mean, 'dry'?"

Felix grinned lopsidedly, his cheeks still flushed from the alcohol. "Means in about forty minutes, this drunk genius turns back into a sober idiot. And trust me, you don't want sober Felix in a fight."

Leo blinked, momentarily stunned. The fat idiot had started this test with several gourds of alcohol, yet he had managed to drain them all within hours.

"That's… great," Leo muttered sarcastically, his chest tightening as Felix's words sank in.

His eyes flicked to the glowing Counter strapped to his waist.

219 Pairs Remaining.

'We're not even close to the end,' Leo realized, unease creeping into his thoughts. With more than a hundred pairs still to be eliminated, the test was far from over.

He knew that as the final few pairs remained, the hours ahead would only grow longer, more grueling, and infinitely more dangerous. And with Felix's impending uselessness and his own faltering confidence in battle, their chances of survival seemed to dwindle with every passing minute.

'Yep, no more fights for sure,' Leo concluded, his gaze shifting warily toward Felix to ensure the drunk fool didn't do something reckless to give away their position.

To his relief, Felix was lying flat on the terrace, gazing lazily at the night sky. For once, he seemed content to stay put, giving Leo the assurance to shift his attention elsewhere—at least for now.

With a quiet sigh, Leo turned his focus outward, scanning the chaos below from his vantage point on the terrace.

From here, the prison grounds stretched out beneath him like a sprawling battlefield, every corner telling a different story of violence.

In some areas, Leo caught glimpses of faint sparks as metal clashed against metal, signaling an intense duel. Elsewhere, he heard guttural grunts and the sickening thud of bodies slamming into walls, revealing the brutal nature of hand-to-hand combat.

He absorbed it all, his grip tightening around the test counter strapped to his waist.

'Kill… kill! Eliminate each other faster,' he thought, his fingers pressing into the counter's surface as though sheer willpower could make the numbers drop more quickly.

Desperation clawed at his chest, each second stretching unbearably. All he wanted was for the chaos to resolve itself—without dragging him into it, and for now it seemed to work.

199 Pairs Remaining.

A few minutes later, the remaining pairs dropped down to 199, officially ushering the qualification round to its final few fights.

'Just a couple more hours and we will be done….' Leo thought, as he prayed for the remaining time to pass as quickly as possible.