NOVEL NEXT Chapter 667: Failed Attempt
"You could've figured that out sooner," Ty replied, his tone half-joking.
Before they could catch their breath, a faint noise echoed through the passage they had entered from. Voices. Ty's expression hardened, and he motioned for JJ to follow him as they quickly ascended the stairs. They emerged back into the passage just as the voices grew louder.
"We need to move," Ty said. "They're closing in."
Meanwhile, far away in the King's chamber, the mood was anything but calm. The three assassins who had failed to kill Osalf knelt before the King, their bodies trembling under his cold, piercing gaze. General Omina stood nearby, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
"You failed me," the King said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not only did you fail, but you allowed the Black Bulls to escape with their lives."
One of the assassins, his voice shaking, tried to speak. "M-my lord, we were… ambushed by an unknown force. A woman appeared… she brought them back…"
The King's expression darkened. "A woman?" he repeated, his tone sharp.
The assassin nodded quickly. "She wielded strange magic, my lord. She… she brought the dead back to life. We couldn't stop her."
The King's eyes narrowed. He turned to General Omina. "Find out who this woman is. I want answers, and I want them now."
Omina bowed her head slightly. "It will be done, my lord."
The King's gaze returned to the assassins. "Your failure has cost us precious time," he said. "But it has also provided me with new information. You live only because your incompetence has given me a name."
He waved his hand dismissively, and the assassins scrambled to their feet, retreating from the chamber. The King turned to Omina once more.
"Increase the pressure on Rui," he ordered. "I want the Black Bulls' location. If he won't talk, break him."
"As you command," Omina said before leaving the chamber.
Back in the dungeon, Rui's body hung limply from his chains, blood dripping from fresh wounds inflicted by Omina's relentless torture. He lifted his head weakly as she approached, a cruel smile on her lips.
"Your defiance is impressive, if not misguided," she said, running a finger along the glowing rod in her hand. The hum of energy made Rui wince. "Do you really think they'll risk everything for you?"
Rui coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. "They already have," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "And they'll succeed. Unlike you."
Omina's smile turned into a sneer. She raised the rod and brought it down with a crackling surge of power, eliciting a muffled groan from Rui. The echoes of his pain reverberated through the dark, damp dungeon, masking the faint clinking of distant chains. For now, the Black Bulls were free, but Rui bore the brunt of ensuring it stayed that way.
Arena of Life Media Segment
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The grand hall shimmered with opulence, crystal chandeliers casting refracted rainbows across polished marble floors. A crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the gilded stage, where Ya-Mi Goldire, the elegant and sharp-tongued media host, stood with a radiant smile. Her golden gown hugged her figure, her presence commanding attention as the cameras swiveled to capture every angle.
Contestants filed into the hall one by one, dressed in attire that ranged from formal to battle-worn chic. Some carried their scars openly, badges of survival in the brutal Arena of Life. Others masked their unease with forced smiles and composed expressions.
Ya-Mi clapped her hands, her jewelry jingling softly. "Ladies and gentlemen, and esteemed viewers of the Arena of Life, welcome to this exclusive interview with our remaining contestants! Tonight, we delve into their hearts and minds as they edge closer to immortality."
The audience erupted into applause, their faces glowing with anticipation as Ya-Mi turned to the first contestant.
Alexander the Mighty stepped onto the stage with a commanding presence. The polished metal gloves on his hands glinted under the brilliant lights, and the crowd erupted in cheers. His towering, muscular frame, covered in battle scars that spoke of countless victories, made him an imposing figure, yet his confident smirk softened the air of intimidation. He paused for a moment, allowing the applause to wash over him, before giving a curt nod to Ya-Mi Goldire.
"Alexander," Ya-Mi began, her voice warm yet precise. She clasped her hands together, her golden gown catching the light. "You've been a standout competitor from the very beginning. Some might say you're the embodiment of strength and leadership in this competition. What fuels you to keep pushing forward?"
Alexander's smirk widened as he crossed his arms over his chest, his demeanor exuding self-assurance. "What fuels me?" he repeated, his voice deep and resonant. "Simple. Strength is the measure of a warrior. Every fight, every challenge, is a test of my worth. I've spent my life proving myself, and I'm not about to stop now. The Arena isn't just a competition; it's the ultimate proving ground."
Ya-Mi tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "That's a bold philosophy. Your confidence is inspiring, but with the recent attacks by the Black Bulls, many are questioning the safety of the Arena. Do their actions concern you?"
The smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a more serious expression. Alexander's eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "The Black Bulls are a nuisance," he said, his tone measured. "They disrupt the order of things, but they're not a real threat to someone like me. My focus is on the Arena, on the fights ahead. If they cross my path, they'll regret it."
The crowd murmured in approval, and Ya-Mi's eyes sparkled as she leaned forward slightly. "It's clear you have unwavering resolve, Alexander. But let's turn to something more personal. Many have speculated about what you might wish for if you win. Immortality? Endless riches? What's the ultimate prize for a warrior like you?"
Alexander's expression softened, and for a brief moment, a flicker of something deeper passed through his eyes. "A legacy," he said simply. "One that echoes through eternity. I don't care for riches or immortality. What matters is being remembered as the strongest, the one who stood above all others. That's a prize no amount of gold can buy."
The room fell silent for a beat, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, applause erupted once more, the audience captivated by his determination. Ya-Mi's smile widened as she gestured toward the crowd.
"A legacy worthy of the Mighty Alexander," she said, her tone reverent. "Your words resonate, not just with the audience here, but with viewers around the world. Before you go, one final question. What would you say to those watching you, to the countless young warriors who look up to you?"
Alexander's gaze swept across the room, his eyes piercing through the lights and cameras. "Strength isn't given," he said firmly. "It's earned. Through blood, sweat, and sacrifice. If you want to rise, you have to fight for it. No one's going to hand it to you. And when the moment comes, when you're standing on the edge of defeat, that's when you find out what you're truly made of. Remember that."
The applause that followed was deafening. Alexander gave a curt bow, his polished gloves catching the light one final time before he stepped off the stage. As he disappeared into the wings, his towering figure cast a long shadow, a testament to the man who sought to leave one that would last forever.
As Alexander strode off the stage, his towering figure casting a long shadow, Rosana stepped into the light. The contrast between the two could not have been more stark. At just 5'1", with fiery red hair cascading down her back and piercing red eyes that seemed to see through everything, she commanded attention in her own way. Her fox-like ears, hidden beneath her hood, twitched slightly at the sounds of applause and murmurs. She wore her signature gauntlets, their extendable claws glinting faintly under the lights, and her movements were quick and deliberate, like a predator in unfamiliar territory.
Ya-Mi's smile brightened as Rosana approached. "Ladies and gentlemen, the fierce and fiery Rosana! A competitor who has proven that strength isn't measured in stature but in heart and skill."
Rosana's gaze swept over the audience, her expression guarded but composed. She adjusted her gauntlets slightly, a subtle move to center herself, before taking a seat across from Ya-Mi. The host's golden gown shimmered as she leaned forward, her tone warm but probing.