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Raven stood silently on the sidelines, her gaze locked on Caleb’s battered figure.
Despite the overwhelming disadvantage, the boy still gritted his teeth and fought with every last ounce of strength.
For the first time, a flicker of approval appeared in her usually indifferent eyes.
He was finally showing it–that ruthless will to fight like his life depended on it.
During training, Caleb had always performed decently, but he’d lacked a vital edge: the ferocity to stake everything in a real battle.
Without that, he could never break into the ranks of the Elite Warriors.
But now, thanks to Jedidiah’s relentless provocation, the blood in him had finally begun to boil.
This was exactly why she had purposely awarded Caleb the first Hundred–Man Unit slot–so Jedidiah would emerge from the shadows and set his sights on him.
As for Caleb’s injuries, as long as he didn’t die, she was fully confident she could have him back to full health within three days.
Meanwhile, Jedidiah was spiraling into a frenzy.
The moment Caleb’s teeth sank deep into his leg, his strikes turned savage.
Crack after crack echoed as Caleb’s bones fractured under the assault.
His body was now a mess of blood and broken limbs, his breaths shallow and fading.
But even then, his jaws refused to unclench.
“Someone help him!”
“Get him out of there–now!”
“Hell no. This is our land, and I’ll be damned if some punk from Sunset Empire thinks he can run wild here!”
The crowd, who’d previously hesitated due to Jedidiah’s repeated mentions of the Vyrdenian monarch, could hold back no longer.
It didn’t matter if the man on the throne raged–they weren’t about to watch one of their own be beaten to death in front of them.
Just as dozens of figures were about to leap into action, a sudden voice rang out from the courtyard gates–cold/sharp, and impossible to ignore.
“Enough.”
The single word sliced through the chaos like a blade. All motion ceased.
Everyone, Jedidiah included, froze and turned toward the source of the command.
Through the open gates walked a procession of over a dozen figures, their footsteps
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unhurried, yet each one emanating an undeniable presence.
At the head of the group were two middle–aged men in their forties.
One wore the pristine white uniform of Sunset Empire’s military, the insignia on his chest identifying him as the equivalent of a Vyrdenian general.
But no one spared him more than a passing glance.
All eyes were drawn instead to the man beside him–dressed in Vyrdenia Military’s highest–grade uniform, tall, composed, and radiating unshakable authority.
“Mr. Macy?” gasped several onlookers in stunned recognition.
There was no mistaking him..
Benson Macy–one of the four generals of the Vyrdenia Military, and more importantly, the younger brother of the country’s supreme ruler.
In all of Vyrdenia, few stood higher than him.
Kyla, who’d been lounging indifferently until now, rose instinctively from her seat. For once, genuine respect flickered in her usually serene eyes.
As Benson stepped forward, his sharp gaze fell on the bruised, bloody Caleb and the proud, smirking Jedidiah.
He turned to Jedidiah and spoke, his voice calm but layered with absolute authority. ” Release him.”
Jedidiah barely spared him a glance and showed no intention of complying.
That was when the Sunset Empire general at his side stepped forward with a smile and said, “Mr. Macy, Vyrdenia claims to be a land of civility and decorum. Before you order my soldier to stand down, shouldn’t this Vyrdenian fighter kneel and apologize for his offensive behavior?”
“Kneel?” Benson’s eyes narrowed.
His expression darkened as he looked at the man beside him. “Without even clarifying the situation, you want my people to kneel and beg? Tell me, Mr. Ortega, does Sunset Empire operate entirely without logic?”
The warmth drained from Ortega’s face in an instant.
He turned his head, throwing a look at Jedidiah.
Jedidiah winced slightly from the pain in his leg, but straightened his back and replied, voice solemn, “I only wanted to test this so–called number one pick for your Hundred- Man Unit. But it turns out… he’s trash. In fact, I’d go as far as to say every Vyrdenian under twenty–five is trash.”
Ortega didn’t seem to mind his soldier’s blatant disrespect.
Instead, he turned back to Benson and said smoothly, “Did you hear that, Mr. Macy? This was supposed to be a friendly exchange. Your man lost, then tried to retaliate
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with disgraceful tactics. Truly shameful. If this situation can’t be resolved properly… then I see no reason for Sunset Empire’s elite troops to remain for further exchange.”
Jedidiah added coolly, “That man on the ground is supposed to be your number one? If he’s your best, then staying here is just a waste of our time.”
Ortega frowned, turning once more to Benson. “Is that truly the extent of your nation’s strength, Mr. Macy?”
Benson’s face darkened further.
And the worst part?
He had no way to refute it.
Apart from Raven’s handpicked Sirius Pack, the rest of Vyrdenia’s young warriors were undeniably inferior.
On the battlefield, Vyrdenia always paid the highest price for the smallest gains.
He had no words.
Ortega, emboldened by Benson’s silence, let his smile fade. “I had hoped Vyrdenia was worth our time–especially after hearing about the Sirius Pack. But if this is what your new generation amounts to, then I see no reason for us to waste another day here.”
Benson’s fists clenched.
He’d spent so long buried in national affairs, unaware of the full extent of what Raven had achieved or the specifics of the new general’s plans.
And now, with no one else under twenty–five capable of answering this challenge, he found himself cornered.
Just as the tension reached its peak and the air seemed ready to shatter under the weight of humiliation, a calm figure stepped forward from the crowd. It was Raven. And she was smiling.
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