Global Awakening: Apocalypse Ender's Chronicle Chapter 1222: The Tournament and Reward

"Whoa... Permanent Residency?!" one survivor shouted as he heard the benefits of being able to win and being part of this event. The 100 Zombie Cores were definitely worth it!

"Amazing... this is more than just a tournament!" another one exclaimed, as he patted his friend’s shoulder.

"Did you hear that? A stipend every month! That means food, oil, and medicine guaranteed!"

"No more scavenging in the ruins!"

"Permanent protection under the Celestial Circle Clan... that’s safely living in a fortress that can vanish into fog!"

"Forget survival, this is a chance to live like a real citizen again!" shouted a young man.

"No more running, no more hiding!"

"Skill Scrolls too? Do you know how rare those are?"

"Second place isn’t bad either!" another voice rang out. "Resources, weapons, scrolls... that’s enough to become even stronger."

"Third place gets a specially crafted weapon? That’s insane!"

The crowd grew louder with overlapping voices filling the air...

"Permanent residency!

"Protection for life!"

"Skill Scrolls, cores!"

"This is the chance of a lifetime!"

The cheer wasn’t just from the participants but also from the crowd.

But then, it was at this moment that some of the Survivors who would be joining the event were recognized.

"Wait... isn’t that Butcher Bae?! Why is he joining the tournament?" a woman gasped, pointing toward a burly man stepping into the waiting area.

His reputation preceded him... The survivor who had single‑handedly butchered a Zombie King in the northern wastelands and was rumored to have eaten Zombie Flesh without turning into one.

His axe was legendary, though here he would fight bare‑handed.

The crowd buzzed louder as more participants were recognized.

"Look! That’s Neri from the Nightblade Clan! She’s the one who assassinated two Vampire Counts during the Cross-Apocalypse Event."

"Unbelievable... I thought she was injured after that battle."

Another cheer rose as a tall, armored figure removed his helmet.

"Wow... This lineup is stacked. That’s Daymos Stormbreaker! He fought against the Dragon Army near the Giddy Plains. They say he shattered a wyvern’s skull with his bare fists!"

The crowd’s energy surged, voices overlapping in awe and excitement.

"Is that... Korrin the Bone‑Eater? He survived three duels against Vampire Knights!"

"No way... I heard he eats the marrow of the undead to strengthen himself. He’s insane!"

At this point, the excitement just continued as the Merchants shouted wagers, hoping more people would bet on their favorite participants.

Meanwhile, Hanes stood below, listening quietly.

He had no idea who most of these people were, but the sheer number of participants, 108 in total, made him curious.

Each name had its own past... each fighter had a story of survival, and now they were all gathered here for the same prize.

"108 fighters... all aiming for the Gate Stones or perhaps permanent residency," Hanes muttered under his breath.

The announcer’s voice cut through the chaos again. "Yes, challengers! You heard the crowd! Heroes, legends, and survivors from across the continent have come to prove themselves. This is not just a contest of strength... it is a gathering of the greatest fighters of our age!"

The crowd roared in approval.

"Look! Over there... Ronan the Iron Monk! He fought bare‑handed against a Zombie Lord!

"And that’s Maribel from the New Haven Clan, right? She burned through an entire vampire coven with nothing but her Talismans."

"Don’t forget Marlon the Silent Fang... he killed a Dragonoing General during the Cross‑Apocalypse Invasion!"

Every name shouted carried weight, every figure introduced added to the spectacle.

Hanes felt the energy pressing down on him. He wasn’t recognized as expected... at the very least, not yet. To the crowd, he was just another participant. But as he listened, he realized this tournament wasn’t just about rewards. It was about reputation, about proving oneself among the strongest.

***

It didn’t take that long before the arena floor trembled as the announcer raised his hand.

"The matchups are set! One hundred and eight challengers, divided into brackets. Only the strongest will advance!"

The crowd cheered...

This time, Hanes stood among the participants. He scanned the brackets posted on the stone wall. Six victories were needed to reach the grand finals.

Some fighters had byes, advancing automatically thanks to their reputation.

The crowd cheered loudly for those names.

But Hanes was not one of them. He would have to fight his way through every round.

The first match was called. Asad’s name echoed across the arena.

"First participant... Asad!"

Hanes’ eyes widened slightly. He hadn’t expected Asad to be among the first. The Necromancer stepped into the ring.

His opponent was a burly fighter known for his grappling skills, a man who had survived countless duels.

The crowd waited, eager to see how Asad would fare without his undead army.

Clang!

The bell rang and the grappler charged, fists raised.

Asad didn’t even clench his hand. He simply lifted his arm and, with the back of his hand, struck his opponent across the chest.

Thud!

The impact was devastating. The grappler flew backward, skidding across the stone floor before crashing into the barrier. He lay there, gasping, unable to rise.

The crowd was stunned.

"What?! With just the back of his hand?!"

"He didn’t even use a fist!"

"That’s insane power!"

The announcer raised his voice. "Winner... Asad!"

Asad turned calmly, leaving the arena without a word. Hanes watched silently, impressed despite himself.

He then continued to watch the other battles, and unfortunately, there was nothing to learn from them.

Soon, Hanes’ name was called. He stepped into the ring and found his opponent to seem like an agility-type survivor.

The man circled him for a moment, probably waiting for an opening.

But Hanes didn’t wait.

He charged forward, placing both hands on his opponent’s chest, and shoved with brutal force.

"Ha!"

The man flew backward, crashing into the barrier so hard that the runes flared to absorb the impact.

The crowd gasped.

"Disqualified! Out of bounds!" the announcer declared. "Winner... Hanes!"

Hanes exhaled slowly, stepping back. It hadn’t even been a fight. Just one push, and it was over.

The crowd murmured.

"Who is that guy?" "He doesn’t look like much, but that strength..." "Another easy win!"

Hanes advanced easily.

The second round came quickly. Hanes faced another opponent, this one a brawler with heavy fists. The man swung wildly, but Hanes sidestepped, caught his arm, and twisted.

With a single motion, he threw the brawler across the arena. The man landed hard, unable to rise.

"Winner... Hanes!"

The crowd cheered louder this time.

"He’s not even breaking a sweat!"

"Two wins already! Very interesting,"

"Could he be one of the dark horses of this tournament?"

Hanes ignored the noise as he continued watching the other fights. Well, he found at least six people worth considering.

The third match was even faster. His opponent tried to rush him, but Hanes simply planted his foot and shoved again.

The man flew backward, crashing into the barrier. The announcer didn’t even wait for him to rise.

"Winner... Hanes!"

The crowd erupted.

"He looks average but that’s three wins in a row!"

"He’s advancing like it’s nothing!"

"Who is this guy?!"

Hanes stood calmly, his breathing steady. He had eliminated three opponents easily, each victory faster than the last.

Meanwhile, Asad continued his own path.

His second match ended with a single kick that sent his opponent sprawling. His third match was even more humiliating... He caught his opponent’s punch with one hand, twisted, and dropped him to the ground unconscious.

The crowd was in awe.

"Asad... he’s terrifying!"

"He doesn’t even look serious!"

"He has a similar name to that of the Necromancer. I wonder if it’s the same guy.

"Bruh... He’s a martial arts fighter... of course, they’re different!"

The tension grew as several powerful Survivors were cutting through the brackets with ease, they were all drawing attention from the crowd.

By the fourth round, the atmosphere had shifted. The weaker fighters were gone, eliminated quickly. The crowd’s cheers grew louder as the recognized names began to clash.

Hanes’ name was called again. His opponent this time was no ordinary fighter.

"Next match... Hanes versus Marlon the Silent Fang!"

The crowd erupted.

"Marlon! The Silent Fang!"

"He killed a Dragon General during the Cross Apocalypse Invasion!"

"This is going to be brutal!"

Hanes stepped into the arena, his expression calm. Across from him stood Marlon, a man with piercing eyes. His movements were silent, and since he was known for speed, precision, and lethal strikes, Hanes planned to see how this muttered.

The announcer raised his hand. "Begin!"

Marlon moved instantly as soon as he heard it across the arena. His fist shot forward, aimed at Hanes’ chest. Hanes blocked with his forearm, the impact echoing like thunder. The crowd gasped.

"He blocked it!"

"No one blocks Marlon’s first strike!"

"This is insane..."

Marlon didn’t stop. He turned with his leg whipping toward Hanes’ head.

"Nice move..." Hanes ducked, but his hand shot forward to shove Marlon back. But Marlon twisted mid‑air, landing lightly.

"Almost..."