Chapter344 -Sparring tournament
For just a moment, the harsh lines beneath the bronze mask softened. He gave a low grunt in response—
—and vanished without a trace.
.......
Inside the Dune government building, Silas carefully set a cup of tea in front of the man sitting across from him.
“Mr. Reece,” Silas said respectfully, “please rest assured. We will conduct a thorough investigation and give you a satisfactory explanation.”
Reece, a man in his fifties, looked as though he’d aged ten years overnight. His face was dark and rigid with suppressed fury.
“Investigate, then,” he snapped. “My son died in that yard. Where is that girl? Why hasn’t she been arrested and interrogated?”
Silas wiped the sweat from his brow and replied in a gentle, placating tone. “You’ve already seen the footage. It was clearly an accident, and—”
He paused, then added carefully, “Making too much noise about this won’t benefit you. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”
Reece’s chest tightened. His fists clenched at his sides, but he said nothing.
If this matter became public, his career would be finished. Under normal circumstances, he would have dragged Robert home and beaten some sense into him himself. But now his son was dead, and all that rage had nowhere to go.
“…Can it be handled quietly?” Reece finally asked.
Silas shook his head. “Mr. Reece, to be frank—this girl can’t be touched. Her brother is a member of the Whisper Syndicate. A Level Five Awakened.”
Reece’s pupils shrank.
“Not just any Level Five,” Silas continued. “First place in last year’s academy tournament. He also has close ties with several heirs from the Five Great Families.”
Cold sweat broke out along Reece’s spine.
“…I understand,” he said hoarsely. “Thank you, Silas.”
“My condolences.”
After personally seeing Reece out, Silas turned back toward the building—and spotted a scruffy man in a leather jacket squatting beside the stone lion by the entrance, smoking lazily.
“Skye?” Silas called out in surprise.
The man turned around, revealing a wide grin and a mouthful of yellowed teeth. “Silas!”
Silas laughed and clapped him hard on the shoulder. “You bastard—you’ve climbed the ranks faster than I ever did. Weren’t you running the law enforcement bureau in Shiverstone? What brings you back?”
Skye chuckled. “My wife’s about to give birth. Took some time off. Heard there was a case here, figured I’d stop by and offer some advice.”
“Congratulations,” Silas said warmly. “It’s nothing serious. Involves Axel’s sister. Mr. Reece has already backed off.”
“…Axel?” Skye’s expression sharpened slightly.
Silas gave him a brief rundown of the incident, then added quietly, “Respect for the dead aside… that kid had it coming.”
Skye laughed and nodded. “Careful, Silas. That’s something you only say between friends.”
“Of course.”
Skye crushed the remaining stub of his cigarette between his fingers and flicked it away. “Don’t forget the red envelope after the baby’s born.”
With that, he pulled his jacket tight and disappeared into the night.
“…That guy,” Silas muttered, shaking his head.
Several hundred meters away, at a street corner, Skye paused and tapped his cigarette case thoughtfully.
“Slipped, hit the back of his head, dead on the spot…” he muttered. “Hell of a coincidence.”
He frowned slightly, then shook his head. “Why do those two siblings always end up at the center of trouble?”
.......
Time passed quickly.
The day of the sparring tournament arrived.
By nine in the morning, the venue was already buzzing with activity. Under the blazing sun, Axel stood in the center of the arena, visibly bored. Contestants from all thirty-two major regions—and their team leaders—had gathered.
Above the arena, a transparent VIP viewing room hovered like a glass box. Seven figures were already seated inside.
“This kid’s here too?” an elderly man with gray hair said, his sharp gaze locking onto Axel.
“Mr. William, you know him?” someone asked.
William smiled faintly. “Gentlemen, how about a little wager? Same rules as always.”
“The champion will be either Everton or Rutherford,” said a fat man lounging comfortably nearby. He rolled two walnuts in his hand as he spoke. “It’s the same every year. Boring.”
“Mr. Philip,” someone scoffed, “you win every time. You’re robbing us blind.”
Philip was the head of the Krythos Intelligence Bureau in Everton—and oversaw intelligence for the entire northern region.
“I’ll place my final bet this year,” Philip said with a grin, eyes narrowing. “Mr. Orlando? Mr. Maurice? Care to join?”
Orlando, the head of the Krythos Hunters’ Guild, shrugged. He was broad-shouldered, with two heavy axes hanging at his waist and a jagged scar slashed across his cheek. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
Maurice, commander of Everton’s Ministry of Defense, was thin and sharp-featured, radiating an air of cold brutality. “I’m in.”
“I’ll start,” Orlando said, resting his chin on his hand. “Everton takes it. Mr. William?”
William pondered briefly. “I’m betting on Virelia.”
“Virelia?” Several people in the room reacted with surprise.
“Mr. William,” Philip laughed softly, “you really do have some inside information.”
He turned to Maurice. “And you?”
Maurice shrugged. “Same as William.”
The others placed their bets as well, most choosing Rutherford or Everton.
Finally, Philip spoke again. “My turn. I’m betting on Hollow Fortress.”
He neatly recorded the results.
“Interesting,” Orlando said with a grin. “More disagreement than usual this year. I’m curious who Hollow Fortress brought with them.”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Philip replied calmly.
......
“The triennial Havoc Division Tournament…”
The host’s amplified voice echoed across the arena as he began reading out the rules and regulations.
Axel stood in place, looking thoroughly bored, with three teammates from Virelia flanking him.
“Huh?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Axel noticed someone else in the crowd who looked just as disengaged as he felt. Unlike him, though, she was surrounded by countless burning gazes. Her figure was explosive, her curves impossible to ignore, and she met the attention with a languid, seductive smile, clearly enjoying every second of it.
“It’s you?!” the woman exclaimed when she spotted Axel.
It was Lilith—one of the captains from the Whisper Syndicate.
“So you’re here too, little brother.” Lilith smiled sweetly, gave him a teasing wink, and sauntered over.
Axel stared at her, genuinely surprised. “You’re not even twenty-five yet?”
“…What the hell are you talking about?”
“Uh—sorry.” Seeing the frost instantly settle over Lilith’s expression, Axel felt a flash of embarrassment.
She studied him for a moment, then laughed. “Since you apologized so quickly, I’ll let it slide this time.”
She leaned closer, eyes sparkling. “Axel, you’re competing too? Let’s hope a weak woman like me doesn’t run into you too early.”
“Which team are you with?” Axel asked.
“Hollow Fortress.” Lilith smirked. “The captain told us to gather. Let’s grab dinner later.”
She shot him another flirtatious wink before turning and disappearing back into the crowd.
“Hollow Fortress…” Axel murmured. “If she’s in it, this tournament won’t be easy.”
Fortunately, Axel knew Lilith’s abilities inside and out. She, on the other hand, barely knew what he was capable of.
“The champion team will each receive one B-grade Original Instrument!”
The announcement sent a ripple through the crowd.
“The runner-up team will each receive four Essence Stones or Soul Stones—your choice!”
Breathing around the arena grew heavier.
“The third-place team will each receive one C-grade Original Instrument.”
By the time the host finished, many contestants’ eyes were burning with excitement.
“The match schedule will be distributed shortly. The first round begins in thirty minutes. Prepare yourselves.”
.....
In Section B of the spectator stands, Zayden scanned the participant list in his hand. His expression darkened as his gaze flicked toward Vesper sitting nearby.
“Vesper,” he said coldly, “what’s going on? Didn’t I tell you to invite Axel?”
“I called him,” Vesper replied awkwardly. “Several times. He never answered. I didn’t want to cause trouble, so I… chose someone else.”
Zayden let out a slow breath and shook his head. “Handing family authority to the younger generation too early was a mistake.”