"Fifth Prince Oliver, please have mercy. I only thought of our honor, my liege!" the soldier in white dropped to his knees and pleaded.
Oliver smirked as he looked down at the man begging for mercy. "Honor? What honor is there in forfeiting before the match even begins? We are Trickarians. We fight until the end, even if it means dying on the battlefield."
He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering with a dangerous gleam. "And as for my brother, he will become the true monarch with or without the help of the Blakroc Clan. He has me by his side, after all."
The soldier in white shuddered at the sheer power radiating off of the fifth prince. Oliver turned back to the window, his eyes focusing on the two warriors projected in the arena below.
"Look at them, ready to fight with everything they have. That is what true honor is: not running away like a coward. They have earned their place on that stage and deserve our respect."
The soldier in white nodded obediently, still quivering under the fifth prince's intense aura.
As he spoke, the handsome prince tapped a finger on the void, and the soldier in white popped like a blood bubble before he could even scream.
The surrounding guards were silent and didn't dare to react, not even the previous man's sister. She was paralyzed by fear and disgust when a bit of her brother's blood splashed on her face. She still didn't dare to make a peep. After all, the man in front of them was a true immortal. Only death awaited if they defied him. She definitely didn't want to get popped like a bubble.
"Does anyone else have an opinion on my ninth brother's methods?" Fifth Prince Oliver Trickarius impatiently swept the remaining family guards with his gaze.
"It is fine, elder brother," a savagely handsome youth garbed in white and silver armor burst out of the void next to the fifth prince, like stepping through an invisible puddle of water.
His jet-black hair cascaded down his mid back as an ethereal ribbon - four inches wide and two meters long - danced around his shoulders. The ribbon moved as if it were an extension of him.
He quickly joined the little boy at the window, who seemed only a year or so younger. They shared a glance before focusing their attention on the battle stage beneath. The excitement coursing through the youth's veins was palpable; he could feel his power surge with each passing moment.
'Today is the day,' he thought before declaring aloud.
"Today is the day I become prince regent!"
"Indeed, little brother," Prince Oliver nodded in appreciation.
This brat had teleported directly here without anyone detecting his presence. This was terrifying. His mastery of the laws of chaotic space was constantly reaching new heights. This younger brother's bloodline was simply magnificent.
Brimming with new confidence, Prince Oliver asked casually, "How confident are you in defeating that Luerong Blacc?"
"Huh, a mere Void Wizard and Heavenly Disaster Saint. I have already cultivated the Demonic Sea Realm. With my bloodline, forget about her; not even a regular immortal is my match. She may be quite capable, but what could she do to me?" The ninth prince responded confidently.
From his tone, he didn't put the opponent in his eyes.
"Don't grow complacent, Prince Tricko," Fifth Prince Oliver cautioned his brother.
Despite being born of the emperor's blood, the two young princes were mixed blood and had been denied their rightful name of Trickarius.
The ninth prince had been consigned to the backwater world of New Gaea, which was nothing compared to the grandeur of the Sky Beast Empire. Yet, as he explored his new home planet, he soon realized that it was more than meets the eye - beneath its once prosperous surface lay a trove of unique legacies that left even his brother, the fifth prince, in awe.
Prince Oliver placed his hand on the ninth prince's shoulder as he continued, "While you were away, our spies tell us that Luerong has successfully broken into the fifth layer of her Forgotten Heaven Immortal Art. Her strength is now comparable to a second or third-rank Void Wizard. With her standard of combat power, she shouldn't be any weaker than you. You must be cautious."
The ninth prince's gray eyes widened in amazement when he heard the feat Luerong had accomplished. Green flames suddenly started dancing in the depths of his eyes, making them resemble two emeralds. He crossed his arms and stroked his chin, lost in thought.
"It's an impressive accomplishment. It would have been quite promising for her to become my match if it were before I reached a new level of my sword fusion. But now, I've tripled my endurance to use sword fusion with or without my true form. If I use sword fusion, it won't even be a show. It'll be a funeral!"
At the mention of the phrase 'sword fusion,' the red-haired boy's wolf ears twitched slightly.
The ninth prince noticed this and teased, "Tenth brother, don't you fancy yourself a swords master? After the tournament, you should enlighten me."
The red-haired boy's lips tightened into a thin line, and his dark eyes flashed with annoyance. He recognized the ninth prince's challenge as an attempt to assert dominance in a competition that couldn't be won. After all, no one knew the tenth prince had developed the sword fusion technique the ninth prince was practicing so desperately.
The pretense of competition between them was simply a misguiding posturing.
🐉
The spacious arena held a private room on the other side, shrouded in darkness.
Only four figures were in this hallowed space, their faces obscured by ornate cloth armor adorned with glittering jewels and gold. At the forefront of the room stood an excessively sexy and bodacious lady wearing black lace with a witch cloak that hung delicately on her shoulders.
Her presence commanded attention, and her sleek black hair cascaded over her taut, creamy flesh. The beauty of this woman was only rivaled by the peerless face of the young girl floating in meditation beside her. The girl's eyes were closed, and her breath came out in soft puffs as she channeled ancient power through her body.
Across from them was a silent monk who had taken a vow of silence for life and spoke only through telepathy, his stillness radiating wisdom and tranquility that could put even the most restless heart at ease.
Next to him was a muscular man dressed in neodawn robes that marked him as a truist, worshipper of the Truth. His muscles rippled every time he breathed deeply - every inch of him screamed danger and unexpectedness.
This truist almost seemed misplaced next to his esteemed companions; however, one could see that they respected his prowess.
"This earth sure has changed in the last few millennia. Do not forget our purpose in returning here," the truist spoke in a heavy tropical accent.
"My purpose here is written in the stars. You are but a fly on the wall of my life, watching my beauty with lustful eyes. Know this... no matter what you think of me, I will not hesitate to obliterate you if I desire. Nothing you do could stop me," the beautiful lady's sultry voice seemed hypnotic.
Despite her insults, even the truist struggled to extricate himself from his desires. As she spoke, he looked into her eyes and suddenly felt rage, passion, lust, and misery, all in a wave of madness.
It threatened to engulf him whole.
The shadow of this sexy woman in front of him transformed to look like an evil demon, ready to devour his soul. However, the beauty of this demon made him want to willingly give his soul for just one night of pleasure, as she was far too appealing. How she moved her delicate body as she inched near him almost made him want to shed tears of joy.
He suddenly realized something wasn't right. After all, he hated this bitch with all his heart!
Pitch black flames enveloped the room, cutting out all light but intensifying the heat to outrageous degrees.
"Noooo!" the truist held his skull and roared.
"Amitabha," the monk opened his eyes slightly, revealing a dazzling golden light radiance.
The monk's eyes slowly shut, and the truist was almost paralyzed with fear.
"Thank you, Maxi."
Earlier, he felt as if he had been thrown into a trance-like state, unable to comprehend what was happening around him. Even though he knew it was all an illusion in his mind, he still couldn't break free from it. The truist was left feeling helpless and scared. Had Maxi not broken the trance, who knows how long he could have endured?
Maxi spoke calmly with closed eyes and lips, "Sansa, my lady, please don't torment your counselor. We are on the same side, after all."
The truist wondered how this witch Sansa could have recovered so much of her strength without him knowing. This made it clear why the higher-ups had assigned Maxi to accompany him; they assumed he wouldn't be able to contain her on his own anymore. Fear had taken over the truist's entire body as he realized this.
Sansa scoffed at the truist's fear and turned her attention back to the young girl floating beside her. "Lulu, my dear, it is time to awaken. We have much to discuss," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness.
Luerong's eyes slowly opened, revealing the same golden radiance that had emanated from the monk earlier. She floated down to the ground and stood before Sansa, her eyes never leaving the alluring woman's face.
"What do you require of me, big sister?" Luerong asked, her voice barely above a whisper.