Ringo reached the limit, it only took him another week to reach the level 120 limit. That speed was ridiculously fast, it would shock anyone, but Ringo didn't care about that now.

  Based on his energy with an evolutionary character, he could feel that he was on the threshold of a new kingdom, he just needed a little push to move forward and he was holding all that energy within himself.

  The gravity around it had already reached 100 times that of Aquamarine and the radiation levels would have already killed most species in the galaxy, even so, many species in the galaxy can live in even harsher environments and are not necessarily as strong as a Grade A.

  There are many factors involved, but for Ringo, a "human", that level of gravity would have turned him into a paste of flesh a long time ago.

  He was far from the machine's limit, but for now that was enough, he needed to return to Aquamarine and pass through the advance. He wouldn't do something as stupid as venturing into "hostile" territory.

  So, he quickly left the room, ready to exit the War Zone and teleport to one of the Nightmare Marks in Aquamarine.

  There was a compartment next to it for storing clothes, after all, not all clothes could withstand that level of damage, like Ringo's, which had long since been turned to ashes. Fortunately, he had asked a clone of Black Spider to bring him a new one, so he had clothes to go out in without being arrested for indecent exposure.

  Fortunately, this situation wasn't new, so the clone was allowed to enter as a "delivery person". Otherwise, he could only have asked one of his clones to teleport to him and bring him clothes, or transform into a hidden nightmare and leave, but that could cause problems, so he was glad he didn't need a backup plan.

  Although, considering galactic norms, he would probably only receive a simple warning and pay a fine if he went out naked.

  Finally... Ringo turned off the machine, he had to wait until the room began the "cleaning" process. He couldn't just go around carrying all that radiation around, it wasn't even an option. The room only opened once it confirmed that Ringo wouldn't be a living biological hazard.

  So Ringo was bathed with a bluish liquid, dried, bathed with a yellow liquid, dried again and finally bathed with normal water, then dried.

  The room beeped, signaling that the decontamination process was complete and Ringo could finally retrieve his clothes.

  Dressed in his black clothes, he left the room with light steps, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, eager to move forward quickly, but as he was leaving, he was surprised to see a stream of excited people heading towards an underground area.

  Curious, Ringo approached what appeared to be a middle-aged galactic human dressed in combat gear and asked. -Hey, where is everyone going?

  The man looked at him strangely for a moment and replied. -Don't you know? Today is the final of the annual War Zone tournament.

  -An annual tournament?- Ringo asked curiously.

  The man frowned. -Are you new? Even if you are new, don't you know something so simple?

  -Ah, I recently arrived at Juberly Hub, my name is Black Spider, captain of the mercenary group Triple Six.- Ringo introduced himself lightly.

  The man seemed thoughtful as he recalled something, asking in surprise. -Are you the leader of that mercenary group that completed that suicide mission?

  Ringo seemed confused for a moment. -Am I that famous?

  The man chuckled slightly, clearly less irritated as he spoke. -Actually, there was a bet on how many deaths there would be before the end of the mission. You could choose the number of Grade B, Grade C, the total number of people, even if there would be a Grade A dead person. The bets were varied. A friend of mine bet that the mission would be completed this year. He's a lucky idiot. He talked about it so much that I remembered the name of the mercenary group.

  Ringo seemed a little curious and felt lucky to find someone who knew him, but he didn't think much about it. - I understand, good for him, but what about the tournament?

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  -Ah, it started several months ago, there are many types, today is the final of the individual tournament.- The man said, sounding excited. -I bet everything on The Berserker, Trax.

  The man quickly pulled Ringo towards the stadium while talking excitedly about the tournament. Through this, Ringo discovered that the man's name was Hokah, he was the captain of a small mercenary group, but he particularly enjoyed gambling, so that's why he came here.

  The tournament is actually based on various war games, individual fights, team fights and even spaceship battles, although it was limited to assault ships.

  The prizes were varied but generous, the competitors in today's individual tournament were Jontur, a galactic human and captain of a mid-sized mercenary group, who is also a pugilist and on the other side, Trax, a tiger beastman, also a pugilist.

  But unlike Jontur, Trax is actually a slave. The War Zone has a large number of slaves, very similar to gladiators, they are usually pitted against each other or can be "rented" for life-or-death combat.

  For the slaves, this is a situation where they can only leave here dead, except for the annual tournament, any slave can register for the individual tournament, if they win, they not only regain their freedom but also receive the full reward.

  There were some slaves who had freed themselves in this way, some became instructors in the War Zone, others left for God knows where, but overall, a slave gaining freedom was still rare.

  Trax is a completely stubborn tiger-man, it's unknown how he ended up imprisoned, but his strength is impressive. Even so, the galactic human, Jontur, is just as impressive.

  As he advanced with Hokah chattering incessantly beside him, Ringo's eyes gleamed slightly as he anticipated the future of the match.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, the result was somewhat unexpected. Despite his superior strength, Trax only won 1/1,000 of the time, but through his vision, he could clearly see that Trax's condition was very poor.

  -Poison? Or a curse?- Ringo wondered curiously.

  He continued to see further, envisioning Trax's fate if he lost and... he was sold at auction in the war zone a few days later.

  Ringo became thoughtful, not satisfied, he went further, thinking about buying Trax. Ringo saw many destinations, but one name was recurrent in each one.

  Heber.

  It seems that Trax hates Heber with all his might. Curious, he tried to find out why, but Trax wouldn't talk about it, only saying that Heber was his enemy for life. Perhaps in the distant future it would be possible to find out, but he couldn't see that now.

  Sighing, he realized he was already seated next to Hokah, who was excitedly shouting toward the circular arena.

  The stands were enormous, there must have been at least 100,000 people there. Their seats were way in the back because they arrived last. There were also VIP boxes, but those were probably for Massacre-level members.

  Both he and Hokah were only Iron level.

  Sure, Ringo could have bought a Massacre-level association, but he had no reason to do something like that.

  [Welcome everyone to the final of the War Zone's grand annual individual fighting tournament!] - The narrator's voice came from each of their communicators, already translated into their native languages.

  [Today we will see the fierce battle between The Crusher - Jontur! And the Berserker - Trax!]

  [Betting will close in a few minutes, so you better hurry and place your last bets!]

  Ringo picked up the communicator and opened the War Zone interface, the betting tab for this fight was right at the top of the app. He opened it and realized that Trax had a 78% chance of winning! No wonder most of the bets were on him.

  Ringo also sensed something was up, after all, he had seen the future.

  In any case, knowing that Trax's chances were ridiculously low, he bet 1 million directly on Jontur.

  The bet had a multiplier of 1 to 4 for Jontur and 1 to 2 for Trax.

  If he won, he would receive 3 million.

  He could have bet more, but that was the limit his intuition allowed him to bet without attracting unwanted attention.

  Well, it was still a big gamble for low-level mercenaries, but not enough for him to be hunted down because of it.

  Hokah looked hesitant beside him, his face constantly shifting, considering betting a little more. In the end, his expression solidified and he bet more on Trax.

  Ringo shook his head and looked away.

  The fight began as expected, Jontur entered waving to the crowd carrying a club as big as his body.

  He had neatly combed blond hair and was considered handsome for a galactic human, as soon as he appeared, several women screamed excitedly.

  Trax, on the other hand, attracted the attention of men, not sexually, but because his appearance was pure violence.

  A muscular body covered in orange fur with black stripes and a white chest, its scars hidden by the fur, but still visible to Ringo's enhanced vision.

  He was wearing only loose black pants tied with a white ribbon, he looked like a martial artist.

  His face was more feline than humanoid, with his fangs showing even when his mouth was closed.

  Ringo noticed as soon as he saw him that he was trembling slightly, imperceptible to most, but still clearly visible to Ringo, Trax seemed to be in pain and having difficulty standing.

  Nobody commented on it, whether they knew or had noticed, not even Ringo, it didn't make sense to complain.

  Trax's life was a "treasure" to the War Zone lord, even if he were unmasked, Trax would only face a worse death. Fighting and losing could at least guarantee his survival.

  If by some miracle he wins, he'll probably die even sooner.

  Ringo began to think that the previous slave victories were probably purely a strategy by the owner of the War Zone, trying to give some hope to those slaves.

  Ringo could only sigh and shake his head.