MTLNOVEL CHAPTER 232 - Lucky Or Unlucky?
Alex Drakathor vs. Varacius Graymane.
The conflict between Alex and the Berserker Club was clear to everyone, so many expected a fight between Alex and the prodigious Berserker, Varacius.
They expected and wished for such a match, as they wanted to see whether Alex could end the fight as he did with Leon or face some problems.
But no one expected their wishes to come true, so everyone was frozen in their spots, unable to blink for a while, until Alex, in the waiting room, chuckled, breaking the heavy silence.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms lazily before letting his gaze settle on Varacius, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Well, well," he mused, voice laced with amusement. "I don't know whether I should call myself lucky, or you are just unlucky that an opportunity to go up on the arena would present itself at just the right moment."
The bet was for the loser to go up the arena and bark in front of everyone, but one can't just go there when they want to, so the bet could only be fulfilled when the loser goes up the arena for their match.
Now, as soon as the bet was concluded, Varacius was called up the arena. So, of course, Alex would be happier.
Varacius, however, didn't share those sentiments; his crimson eyes flickered with restrained fury, despite his face remaining impassive.
His fists, however, clenched even tighter. "You've been yapping for a while now," he muttered, his voice low and controlled. "Is this all the student council knows? Fighting with words?"
For the first time, Alex paused.
His smirk faltered just slightly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he studied Varacius. Then, after a brief silence, he let out a small, almost disappointed sigh.
"I was fighting with words," he admitted, tilting his head slightly. "I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, you could at least win in this fight. But I guess my thoughtfulness was mistaken for weakness."
Varacius's jaw tightened, his entire body coiled with barely contained rage.
Every muscle in his form was rigid, his nails nearly piercing the skin of his palms. But he said nothing.
He had already decided to show how unlucky Alex was to get matched up with him.
'I will wash the humiliation with your blood and cries,' Varacius growled inwardly.
Alex, on the other hand, rose from his seat, rolling his shoulders as he cast one last glance at Varacius. "Well then," he said, his smirk returning, sharper this time. "Let's not keep them waiting."
With those words, he strode toward the exit of the waiting room, pushing the doors open.
The moment he stepped out, a thunderous roar erupted from the coliseum.
The crowd had been waiting, eager for the next fight, and now that the names had been revealed, the excitement in the air was electric.
"ALEX DRAKATHOR! VARACIUS GRAYMANE! THIS IS IT!"
"Holy crap, this is going to be insane!"
"The student council's prodigy versus the Berserker Club's president? This is going to be a bloodbath!"
"Show them what the 'Maneater' can do!!"
Alex walked with easy confidence, his cape billowing slightly behind him as he made his way to the center of the arena. His face held no concern, no hesitation—just sheer, unwavering certainty.
Yet, back in the waiting room, Varacius remained still, staring at the doors Alex had just walked through.
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The fury within him burned hotter with every passing second. He knew Alex was strong—everyone did.
But the way he carried himself and spoke with that infuriating arrogance made Varacius's blood boil.
'Does he think he's above everything just because he's a bit strong?' Varacius's body trembled in rage.
"Alex would do anything to get what he wants, and even if it is the vilest act one could do, he would still be proud about it rather than being guilty. He is sick."
The words of his savior and new friend, Keryu Ivanovich, echoed in his head, recalling how Keryu had warned him to be most careful of Alex.
'I will make sure to humiliate you to the point that you won't be able to show your face to anyone.' Varacius was determined, unaware that the one he was facing wasn't someone of the same class as him.
With a deep breath. A slow exhale, Varacius moved.
Without a word, he turned and walked toward the doors, each step purposeful. As he emerged into the coliseum, the cheers only intensified. The spectators were shouting, their voices blending into a chaotic storm of anticipation.
"VARACIUS! TEAR HIM APART!"
"NO WAY, ALEX HAS THIS IN THE BAG!"
"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS MATCH IS HAPPENING SO SOON!"
"Would we see another one slap defeat?!"
Despite the deafening noise, Varacius's mind was eerily quiet. His fury was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer wild and unrestrained.
It was cold. Focused.
As he stepped onto the battlefield, his gaze locked onto Alex, who stood across from him with an easy, almost lazy smile.
This wasn't just a fight.
This was personal.
And no matter what happened next, the coliseum was about to witness something unforgettable.
...Or so Varacius thought.
..............................
Meanwhile, in Alex's chamber, lightly lit with glowing orbs, two people sat side by side, staring at it, staring at the ongoing turn of events on a projection device.
"That guy... how long do you think he would last for?" Zahara, lazily lying on the seat Alex usually sits on, asked, enjoying Alex's scent and warmth that wafted from the seat.
"One slap?" Mira, sitting next to her, tilted her head, not sure if she got the right question, but she felt that the moment Alex made a move, the match would end.
"Haha," Zahara, however, giggled at Mira's words. "It's true that the match could end with just one slap, but do you think Alex would end it with just that?"
The moment Mira heard that question, the fight between Alex and Leon replayed in her mind, making her purse her lips as she shook her head. "No."
"Right?" Zahara, however, just chuckled, excited to see what Alex would do with this guy, as it was always fun to see Alex beat others up. It made her feel proud.
She hummed softly, shifting slightly on Alex's seat, her fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns carved into the armrest.
Though the projection device displayed the growing tension between Alex and Varacius, her mind had drifted elsewhere.
Her expression, which had been one of amusement, suddenly turned serious. "We need to be careful now," she murmured, her voice dropping slightly.
Mira, who had been watching the match unfold with her usual blank expression, blinked and turned slightly toward Zahara. "Because of Lilia?"
Zahara nodded, exhaling slowly as she leaned back. "Yes. I have no doubt that the next woman Alex will take will be her." Her fingers curled slightly against the armrest. "And unlike us, Lilia is dangerous."
Like always, she wasn't against the idea of Alex taking more girls; she was doing everything she could to keep her spot on the priority list higher.
Mira tilted her head, considering Zahara's words. "Dangerous?"
Zahara met Mira's gaze, her eyes sharp. "You and I... we love Alex, but we're happy as sisters sharing the same man." Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Lilia won't be like that. She won't want to share. She will want to monopolize him all for herself."
Zahara had been molding Mira into her perfect supporter, as the more people she had on her side, the higher her position in Alex's harem would be, but Lilia was different.
Lilia won't accept being on someone's side. She would want others to be on her side.
Mira's expression remained unreadable, but a flicker of understanding passed through her golden eyes. "That would be... problematic."
Zahara nodded. "That's why we need to stay together now more than ever." Her voice was firm, resolute. "If we let our guard down, Lilia will change everything."
Mira was silent for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "Then we won't let that happen."
Zahara smiled, reaching out to take Mira's hand and giving it a small squeeze. "Exactly."
The two sat there, watching as the battle between Alex and Varacius was about to begin, but their thoughts remained elsewhere.
In order to continue to be loved by the man they loved, they were both fighting a battle of their own.