Harem Stealer Vol. 2
Copyright© 2026 by TheSmartOne
Chapter 31: The Ranking (1)
The survivors reappeared inside a colossal arena, their bodies still bloodied from battle, but their presence undeniable.
The moment they arrived, the crowd erupted.
Roars. Screams. Frenzy.
From the stands, fans cried out for their favorites:
“NOAH, YOU’RE SO COOL!! HOW DID YOU DO THAT THING?!”
“ELIJAH, I LOVE YOU!!”
And then—
“ROUGE!! YOU’RE SO SEXY—COME FIGHT ME ALL NIGHT IF YOU HAVE TO!!!”
Even the guards flinched at that one.
The crowd was wild. The first test had delivered everything the audience dreamed of—blood, power, and untouchable prodigies. They had witnessed the next generation of apex warriors ... and they were starving for more.
As for the dead?
No one cared.
This was Apex Academy. A place to forge weapons against demons, not raise pampered elites. Those who died? They were weak. They deserved it. Nothing more to be said.
High above the arena, Damion floated into view once again—serene, distant, like a god overseeing mortals.
“There are eighty of you left,” his voice boomed. “All of you are accepted into the Academy.”
A pause.
“But this next test—this is where your rank will be decided.”
Murmurs rippled through the group.
Damion smiled lazily. “And let me be clear—your rank means everything. Privileges. Resources. Opportunities. This place isn’t for the weak. If you want to survive here, you better fight like your life depends on it.”
He clapped his hands twice.
“Now ... to determine your ranking, what’s better than a good, old-fashioned duel?”
The crowd went wild.
“FIRST DUEL: LUCAS VS LUKE!”
The matches began, one after another.
Each duel lit the arena on fire with energy. The remaining candidates all had S-rank talents at minimum, or A-ranks with unique specializations.
Most battles were intense, hard-fought, and won by a hair.
But not all.
For Elijah, Noah, and a few others in the SS-rank and above?
It wasn’t even fair.
Elijah used nothing but his sword—no talents, no divine abilities, not even a hint of magic. One strike. Victory. Mercy.
Noah, relaxed as ever, fought with ice alone. The elegance of his technique was deceptive—those who faced him were defeated before they could even understand what was happening.
The crowd noticed. And they loved it.
On and on it went ... until only eighteen remained.
That’s when the real matches began.
“Next Duel: Aiden Stoneheart vs. Ren Smith.”
A hush fell over the crowd.
Aiden stepped onto the platform, his expression stone cold.
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