Donovan brushed off Kai's remarks. Kai, however, wore a grin that suggested he could happily needle Donovan all day. He thrived on provoking reactions, finding a perverse satisfaction in unsettling even the most composed of people.
A hush fell across the audience, and all eyes shifted to a tall, elegant woman in a sleek black evening gown stepping onto the polished floor of the fighting ring. With authority and grace, she approached the sizeable globe-shaped glass container placed in the heart of the Arena.
Adjusting a small device tucked discreetly in her ear, her amplified voice resonated with exciting and commanding clarity.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Arena, your favourite fight club," she announced in her rich and theatrical tone. And a gunshot rang out from the terrace up in the air, signalling the start of the draw.
Pieces of paper whirled energetically within, twisting in a colourful blur of activity. With a quick mechanical sound, the initial slip launched out, soaring upward. The woman quickly caught it, using her swift reflexes.
The crowd barely breathed as the process repeated four more times. Each time, she caught each slip with the same practised grace.
The area was silent, though electrons were running with the speed of light through their veins in excitement. The woman in black dress movements was almost theatrical as she raised the first slip of paper high above her head. The spotlight shifted to her.
The crowd leaned forward as one with anticipation coiled tightly like a spring, ready to explode.
"First participant: Max Thompson!" He was a well-known fighter who had maintained an undefeated record until this moment.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. She continued with the same dramatic flair, announcing each name in turn:
"Second contender: Hiro Takton!" He was known for his aggressive attacks that left his opponents bleeding. He felt satisfaction seeing the blood.
"Third contender: Volkov!" He loves to break the bones of the opponents.
"Diego Martin is the fourth competitor!" He adheres to all the rules of the fight and is disciplined, unlike the previously mentioned contenders.
"Fifth contender: Jiro Nakamura!" He is the individual who predicts his next opponent's actions and has never faltered until now.
These five chosen fighters were a mix of seasoned MMA warriors and masters of various fighting styles. Each of them was an expert in their fighting style.
The woman walked around the arena, looking at the crowd, "These are the brave souls who will face the 'Capo dei Capi' tonight. May the best fighter win!"
The crowd roared in approval, the noise reverberating through the Arena.
Donovan, just before stepping out to get into his fighting gear, stopped at the doorway to glance at Kai and Logan. His cousins tried to mask their anxiety with a show of confidence.
These five opponents were formidable fighters. They had attended nearly every match in which these five contenders had participated. And they were genuinely concerned for Donovan. If he were to lose even one match, it would damage their reputation and the family name. Logan and Kai felt annoyed that he was risking their family's standing because of his unrequited crush frustration.
"Do not make us lose our face. All the best!" Kai said, his voice steady but stressed.
Donovan chuckled, swaying his head from side to side, finding the situation humorous. He could sense his cousins' faith in him, with tinged of worry.
The whole idea of arranging tonight's fight was to take a few hits to alleviate the unease he had been experiencing since this morning. However, with Caspian present in the crowd, the stakes felt different.
"I've got this," Donovan said with a wink.
Once the fighters' names were revealed, each individual in the Arena placed their additional bets on their phones through an app specifically designed for combat fights, which was not accessible to everyone. People wagered on how many punches and kicks would be landed on who and by whom during the match. The funds were ready to be transferred for each kick and punch.
"Who are you betting on?" inquired a man in a white suit to the person next to him.
"It's a difficult decision. I haven't seen Donovan fight before." He picked Max as the victor. "Although I feel a bit guilty for not choosing Donovan over Max, I'm also not disappointed by my choice. Max is the one who has never lost a single match. I believe I'm going with the champion.
The woman listening to the gentlemen's conversation chimed in, "I will bet on Donovan; I have confidence in him. If he chooses to compete against five contenders instead of one or two, it must mean something." With that, she smiled and picked Donovan as the winner of every match.
Donovan entered the Arena, the bright light highlighting the glistening of his skin as the audience erupted in an almost savage roar. This was not just ordinary cheering—it was a noise filled with a thirst for blood, and their eyes shone with curiosity to see fighters breaking each other's bones. Their voices echoed in the Arena with the kind of rage and excitement that hadn't been felt since the days of the Roman Colosseum.
In the past, gladiators battled not only to survive but also to showcase their dominance and entertain the crowd. The similarities were evident in this situation. This was more than just a fight; it signified a show of power and control, a reminder to everyone present at the Arena that Triad Wolfen—the Valtham Royals—were allies who held the reins.
Bets were flying in from all directions, with the crowd heavily favouring the more famous contenders. Only a select few dared to bet on Donovan. Among them was Caspian, who watched Donovan like a hawk.
Caspian was aware of how the Triad heirs had successfully formed an alliance with the royal family of Valtham. However, he wasn't interested in dealing with minor players. His objective is to secure an alliance with the White House. Therefore, he allowed the Triads to engage in their petty games. Today, he is simply here to analyse Donovan's strategic mindset.
Everyone in the crowd was anticipating the fight, while Rihanna's focus was drawn to a different scene.
She was captivated by Donovan in a way that she couldn't quite rationalise. He wore only blue sports shorts that highlighted his muscular legs, and his bare torso revealed the intricate eagle tattoo stretching from his left shoulder to his chest. The wings seemed to move with every breath he took.
Rihanna had often imagined tracing that tattoo, her fingers skimming over the sharp lines and soft curves of his skin. There was a pull she couldn't resist, an almost magnetic urge to feel the heat of his body and the solidity of his strength beneath her palms.
Her thoughts wandered into unsavoury territory which was far from decent, that left her cheeks flushed and her heart pounding . Her mind brimmed with a desire to explore every inch of Donovan—his muscular and strong physique, tattooed skin, and the depths of his emotions.
And she wasn't the only one in the crowd with desire; there were others as well, a hidden acknowledgement that Donovan's allure was nearly a weapon. He was a man who has been rumoured to have never taken a single woman to his bed. This only heightened the desire of every woman in the Arena who would be the first.
A sharp gunshot rang out amidst the clamour, abruptly quieting the crowd to signal the beginning of the match.
The woman in the black dress stepped in again on the Arena, standing beside Donovan with pride and grabbing the crowd's attention. She announced with a flair, "Our first contender—Max Thomson!"
The audience once more burst into a tumult of cheers and applause. The sound reverberated through the Arena like a wave of energy. Fans shouted his name, their excitement were only getting high.
Max confidently walked into the ring, and he was no stranger to the spotlight. After all, he is unbeatable.
Once inside, he made a respectful bow toward Capo dei Capi, his expression was both of respect and bravado.
"I trust you won't be offended if you don't succeed tonight," Max remarked in a polite yet clearly pointed that conveyed his confidence without any confusion. After all, he had never been defeated in a match.
Standing tall and unruffled, Donovan met his challenge with a smirk. He offered his hand for a handshake, his actions steady and intentional. "Setting high aspirations is admirable," Donovan commented, his tone filled with humour. I like your optimism. Good luck!"
The referee, in black trousers and a black shirt, stepped between the two men. Raising a hand to keep them apart, he blew the starting whistle, swiftly retreating as the match officially began.
Max wasted no time and rapidly sprang into action, unleashing a barrage of punches and kicks that kept the audience on their toes. His fists moved like lightning speed, but Donovan was looked calm and his lazy movements rendered each attack useless like cat lazily swatting a frenzied fly. Donovan effortlessly evaded each attack without offering a single counter.
Donovan smiled during the match. "Is this really the best you've got? Come on, let's raise the stakes," Donovan challenged Max. "There are still betting going on."
Ten minutes passed, and Donovan's strategy—or lack thereof—was starting to wear thin on the crowd. Discontent spread among the crowd in the Arena as spectators whispered and yelled, upset by the absence of excitement.
Max, in contrast, became noticeably visibly agitated. His blows landed with greater force and speed, yet they all resulted in nothing but empty space. His irritation escalated into full-blown rage as he yelled, "Why aren't you retaliating? Quit avoiding and fight me!"
Max's eyes averted on the side for a second, and the moment of distraction was all Donovan needed. In the blink of an eye, Donovan jumped high into the air, twisting his body like a trained athlete. He kicked out his leg and landed a powerful spinning kick right on Max's temple.
Max hit the ground hard, toppling over like a puppet whose strings had been severed. The Arena froze. The crowd collectively held its breath. The loud applause was replaced by a shocked silence. It felt as if they had just seen an alien appear in the ring.
From within the crowd, a victorious voice shattered the enchantment. "I win! We love you, Donovan!" It was the very woman who had confidently wagered on Donovan for every match without any hesitation. This annoyed Rihana. She shot a scowl at the woman, but the others paid her no mind.