469 [469] To give hope!
Some voices echoed out, en masse.
“Eh?”
“Ha?”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“The hell?”
And many more. Every single one of them expressing a singular emotion. But in different ways.
[Lucas Hiddlestone wins!] Announced the host.
The place was silent, but this was a different sort of silence than what had been shown in the previous round. This was against the expectations of the host. The previous round was of utter excitement, where none dared utter a breath in fear of disrupting the momentum of the battle. But this?
Stupefied! Shocked! Absolutely baffled! Were there more words? Certainly!
But let’s not go there. The audience couldn’t handle more, could they? Although the voice of the host pierced the ears of the people, it had to be said again to register.
[Lucas Hiddlestone wins!]
He said it again, hoping that the audience would be awake from their stupor. But it was just a wish of his. The voice pierced the hearts of some, the majority of whom were the ones who betted on Abraham winning this duel. The ones who had bet a fair sum had outright fainted!
That was the degree of shock they had felt! Come on! You could not just defy their expectations like this, Lucas! Come on! Show them something worth it! .𝒎
“I don’t give a fuck.”
He said and walked off, talking to who knows who? But it was still a shame. The previous match was filled with threats, intent, will! A splendor of mana and a wide variety of attacks meant to injure the opponent, a fiesta of blades!
So what was this?! They expected something else, Goddammit!
A battle like before, not a one hit knock out! How could the second ranker of Eden be so weak?
Little did they know, Abraham was incredibly strong, it was just that Shield students were on a different level entirely. They were monsters, the top 10 in a different league!
“…that can’t be it…”
“Hey! We spent good money on this!”
They yelled, bargained in a sort of way! But nope. He simply did not give a fuck!
“Hey Abraham! Get up! Why are you this weak?”
But there was no response from Abraham, whose head was still buried in the marble floor. The artisans who had made it with their blood and sweat were crying rivers of blood. Their hard work had been demolished in seconds! How could they not?
Lucas disappeared from the stadium, nowhere to be seen, after giving a glancing glare towards the room his father and his family were in. The reason, yet unknown.
“…”
His father, as usual, was silent, and watched his back slowly disappear into the hallway.
“Hmm…”
After witnessing Lucas’s frightening display of sudden power, he pondered.
‘Not even half.’
He thought. And indeed, he was correct. Lucas had not even exhibited half of his power, if Abraham was somewhat worthy, he may have done 30%. But Alas, his opponent was not.
Nothing but a side character who was probably forgotten at this point.
“The kid’s gotten strong.”
His older brother commented, however, his eyes contained a hint of disdain, as if he still considers Lucas his fellow blood.
“Leave.”
Their Father said, and everyone left the room, all of Lucas’s siblings, each older than him left one by one, some glanced at their father, but they were too afraid to actually say something. So, they simply left.
After he was left alone in the room, his father took a cigar out of a green hole in the air, it suddenly appeared and whatever it was, it was not a type of mana, neither was it Aura.
He lit it up, using his finger to act as a lighter, this time with the help of mana. Using it in the form of ‘fire’, an emerald green fire.
He gave it a puff or two, relishing the taste of tobacco he had not tasted in years due to his training, and muttered.
“That old son of a bitch is alive.”
A cynical laughter echoed out as the man’s golden hair, which had lost its previous magnificence due to the long period of neglect, rolled down his shoulder and back. He was a carbon copy of Lucas, or maybe it was the other way around. His emerald green eyes, however, seemed…strange.
He said, referring to Arken Miller. The man who had given him his scar.
He opened up his coat, to reveal a hideous scar, one left by a blade.
“Arken…”
*********
Lucas, on his way out of the stadium, was currently pissed. Very, Very pissed, to be honest.
The first thought was, maybe it was related to his father’s sudden appearance, or was it just his bad mood?
No, it was something else.
“I WANT TO FIGHT STRONG PEOPLE TOO!”
He roared, punching a wall, reducing it to debris.
“Why does Alex get the strong one, and I get the autistic retard?!”
He yelled once again, clearly expressing his distress and confusion, although no one was here to witness it.
Grunting, he left the stadium. Completely dissatisfied with the result, which he had caused! He could pretend to be excited or even restricted himself…but who wanted to do that?
On his case, it had to be understood! He had gone through literal hell, named ‘The Sword Saint’s training’. And this was his reward?! He was unable to even fight a good opponent! The previous fight had made his spirit soar high into the sky, he believed that his opponent would also be like that! Strong!
Not a fucking nobody, weakling! He wanted someone like Kazikato! He wasn’t even afraid of the punishment of the sword saint, even if he lost the duel like Alexander! At least it was a good fucking fight! So…
“Why?!”
He yelled, this time towards the sky. Then kneeled down and started hitting the ground out of anger. He had a bloodline he treasured more than his life now, and was incredibly stronger…so….
“Why god why?!”
Truly, he was utterly disappointed. That he was not able to test his strength.
𝑖.𝘤ℴ𝘮