Chapter 121– Unspoken Threats
The mont Ronan struck down Argon, Han’s sharp eyes locked onto a figure seated in the VIP section—Buster.
He had expected the man to move, and sure enough, Buster blurred forward with incredible speed. Before the first punch could land, Han teleported, appearing instantly between Ronan and Buster, intercepting the blow.
"It’s futile. He’ll die," Buster said calmly, his gaze fixed on the emotionless Ronan standing behind Han.
"If you want to hurt him," Han replied, voice equally calm, "you’ll have to go through first."
His glowing blue eyes shimred with intensity. Han had already analyzed Buster—and what he found was shocking. Despite being only at the Pri Limit, the force behind Buster’s punch far exceeded what that limit should be capable of.
Buster’s second hand curled into a fist, and he launched it again without hesitation. Han intercepted it, and a deafening bam echoed through the arena.
Han gripped Buster’s fist. His hand trembled under the pressure, but his face remained composed, unreadable.
The tension reached a boiling point. The crowd held its collective breath.
Then—
"Stop."
A sharp voice sliced through the air like a blade, just as a figure descended from above. The very atmosphere shifted unnaturally with his arrival.
Buster looked up—The Beast had arrived, frowning.
"I said, stop," he repeated, his voice soft but resonating with imasurable authority.
Sothing inside Buster stirred. He might be strong now, but compared to the No. 2 Hero, he was nothing but a sitting duck. One day, he planned to crush The Beast—but not today. He wasn’t strong enough.... not yet.
Han slowly released Buster’s fists to show he wasn’t escalating the conflict. Buster dropped his arms as well, then let out a sudden burst of laughter.
It was clearly intended to defuse the tension—but instead, it only made things more awkward. Unease spread across the crowd. No one knew what Buster might do next.
He walked past Han, stepping up to Ronan.
Ronan stiffened. The danger he felt radiating from Buster wasn’t sothing he could ignore—but he doubted Buster would make a move here. Not now.
"You’re strong, kid," Buster said, placing a hand on Ronan’s shoulder.
"I’d suggest you cherish every mont... because you never know when it’ll be your last."
His voice was low, but Han and The Beast heard it clearly. A threat, thinly veiled beneath a calm tone.
Ronan t his gaze, then calmly brushed Buster’s hand off his shoulder.
"I would say the sa to you," he replied.
And with that, he turned and walked away.
Every step took trendous willpower. Deep down, Ronan wanted to lash out—wanted to kill Buster. Truly kill him.
But a gnawing question lingered: If they were alone... could he actually win?
He wasn’t sure.
A thirty-minute break was announced—granted for several reasons: to let the audience gather their thoughts, allow the fighters to recover, and to repair the severely damaged battle stage.
dical teams swiftly entered the arena. Argon’s headless body was carefully removed, while engineers worked on restoring the stage. The air was thick with murmurs, whispers, and tension that refused to settle.
Jay stood silently, his gaze fixed on Argon’s lifeless form. His expression remained neutral.
I wanted to be the one to kill him, he thought. But I can’t kill the dead, can I?
He gave a small shrug, pushing the thought aside. What intrigued him more now was the young man with white-and-black hair. Jay had felt the force behind Buster’s punch—titanic, monstrous even. Yet that sa punch had been stopped, almost casually, by that mysterious figure.
Han.
Jay narrowed his eyes. How strong is he...?
---
All around the stadium, spectators buzzed with excitent and confusion. Only two matches had taken place so far—and already, chaos had unfolded.
In the first match, a mber of the revered A6 had been completely dominated by a little-known martial artist. In the second, one of the elite Smashers had been killed. A confrontation had nearly broken out between a Class S Hero and one of the most loved contestants. It was overwhelming—but slowly, the crowd began to collect themselves.
As the break ended, spectators returned to their seats. The arena stage now looked brand new—sleek and polished—but this ti, it wasn’t just repaired. It had been fortified, reinforced to endure even more devastating attacks in anticipation of what was coming next.
The referee made his entrance once more, his voice booming with practiced flair.
Two figures stepped onto the stage.
The first was a young girl with long, flowing blue hair, crackling with electricity. Her expression was innocent—almost childlike—but her grin was sweetly dangerous. Every step she took seed to spark with unstable power.
The second was a man with bright blue hair, cut at dium length. His serious eyes locked onto his opponent. Calm. Controlled. A stark contrast to the electric storm standing before him.
"The next match will feature two exceptional fighters," the referee announced, his voice a rapid-fire cascade of dramatics. "On one side, we have Elexa—also known as the ’Terrifying Princess.’ She’s ranked as the second strongest mber of the A6, and by far one of the most unpredictable combatants in the world!"
The crowd erupted.
"And on the other side," the referee turned theatrically, "we have Stopper, an A-Rank Hero, currently ranked #8 on the Hero List!"
The cheers were more subdued—respectful, but not explosive.
"While far from the A6, Stopper’s slow rise in rank is said to be due to his focus on family and a preference for a quiet life. But make no mistake—this man is a strategic genius, a master of energy manipulation, and has saved countless lives. He rarely appears in tournants like these... yet here he is, drawn in by the grand prize."
The referee took a step back. "Now—two heroes enter, but only one will remain standing!"
---
High above, in the VIP section, Jon observed the arena with a calm, almost bored expression.
He already knew how this would end.
Elexa will win, he thought with certainty. Stopper might hold out for a few minutes, at best.
It wasn’t that Stopper’s abilities were weak—far from it.
His unique skill allowed him to slow down his opponent’s movents, dampen their energy, and gradually exhaust them with each successful strike. Coupled with his analytical mind and strategic approach, he had overco overwhelming odds before.
But this ti was different.
Elexa’s speed wasn’t just fast—it was otherworldly.
And if Stopper couldn’t touch her... he couldn’t use his skill.
"Alright, ladies and gentlen!" the referee’s voice thundered across the arena. "Let the third match of the Tournant of Power—BEGIN!"
With a dramatic snap of his fingers, a subtle bang echoed through the air, signaling the start.
Stopper was already deep in execution mode. Calm and precise, he activated his suit’s barrier, a translucent do of energy forming around him with a hum. His mind raced, calculating.
Step one: Survive the first exchange.
Step two: Land one hit—just one.
Because that’s all he needed to start.
His skill was unlike any other. With every hit he landed, his opponent’s speed slowed, their senses dulled, their strength weakened—while his own beca sharper, faster, stronger. The more hits he landed, the wider the gap grew. A battle of attrition, tilted in his favor.
If I can just touch her... I can win.
But then—
Everything went wrong.
---
A crack rang out.
Stopper blinked.
His barrier—the very defense ant to buy him ti—was in pieces. Shattered like glass struck by a hamr. He hadn’t even seen the strike.
Now, standing before him—far too close—was Elexa.
Her delicate hand rested gently on his forehead. Her blue hair sparkled like lightning, eyes gleaming with childlike amusent.
Then ca the smile.
So sweet.
So cruel.
"It’s sparkle ti," she whispered.
In the next instant, a torrent of electricity surged from her hand, coursing violently through Stopper’s body. His suit crackled, smoked, and then failed entirely.
His body spasd, muscles locking, then breaking under the pressure. He opened his mouth—but the pain was so intense, he couldn’t even scream.
Then, silence.
He collapsed.
---
The crowd stared, stunned.
"What... just happened?" soone finally muttered.
But no one had an answer.
Even the referee was frozen, blinking in disbelief. From the mont the match started to the mont Stopper’s convulsing body hit the floor, barely a few seconds had passed.
It wasn’t domination like Jay’s technical finesse.
It wasn’t fear-inducing like Ronan’s cold ruthlessness.
No.
This wasn’t a fight.
This was a massacre.
Elexa hadn’t fought her opponent. She had overwheld him. Instantly. Effortlessly.
The entire stadium shared one chilling thought:
She’s terrifying.
---
To be continued...
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