Chapter 182: The Event [2]

"Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you all to this special event," the man spoke, his voice booming through the coliseum. Despite the lack of any magical amplification, everyone in the arena heard him as clearly as if he stood right beside them.

The spectators, who had been murmuring and shifting restlessly, immediately fell silent, all eyes turning toward the speaker. He was an imposing figure, draped in a regal cloak that swayed gently with his movements. His voice held authority, the kind that commanded respect effortlessly.

Most of those present recognized the red-haired man dressed in silver armor. His piercing red eyes were filled with wildness as he glared at the crowd, the sheer intensity of his gaze causing several people to gulp nervously.

This man was Sir Ignatius Flameheart, commander of King Aldric's Royal Knights and one of the strongest Awakened in the entire Kingdom. It was rumored that his strength was at the same level as the leaders of the Big Four. Not only that, he was also fondly called the Guardian of the East.

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he studied the man. 'The King's right-hand man. So, he's overseeing the event?'

"This year," Ignatius continued, his tone serious, "marks an important milestone for the future of our kingdom. Today, we will witness a display of strength, courage, and the indomitable will of our young fighters who will soon become pillars of the Vermilion Kingdom!"

Several cheers erupted from the spectators. Excitement filled the air as the citizens waited eagerly for the event to begin.

In the reserved area for the dignitaries, King Aldric gripped the armrest of his seat, his eyes gleaming with wickedness. He looked like a demon straight from the depths of darkness. His thought process at this moment was even more alarming.

"It's about to begin," Aldric whispered, his voice barely able to contain the excitement coursing through his entire being.

The others also noticed his out-of-place behavior and briefly glanced at him, wondering what was causing the king to be so excited. Had he perhaps lost his mind?

Nathan and Brawn Collins exchanged glances, both of them sharing the same thought, wondering what the scheming king was planning. Though no words were spoken between them, they both decided to be prepared in case of any emergency.

Nyx, as observant as ever, had noticed the unspoken interaction between her grandfather and her "uncle." She returned her gaze to the man the next moment.

"Let the fight begin!" the head knight commanded, and with a wave of his hand, numerous figures began ascending the elevated platform.

Nathan noticed something wrong.

He wasn't the only one.

Even the others noticed.

Nyx's eyes flickered as she focused on the clothing of the individuals climbing the platform. They were all between 10 to 15 at most.

But there was something odd about them.

Nyx briefly glanced at Elowen, the daughter of the Velarius family; her attire was luxurious and pristine. Then she looked at the children on the platform.

Why did they look so unkempt?

Why did they look so undernourished?

The mood in the coliseum plummeted considerably; the previous excitement was now gone. Most of the audience's eyes were filled with confusion and resentment.

"What are they doing there?"

"Don't tell me it's what I'm thinking? Are they the ones who will fight against the prince?"

"Aren't they all low-level?" one woman pointed out, a frown crossing her features.

Perhaps the only people who maintained nonchalant expressions were the nobles.

"Hehehe, so this was his plan all along," Seraphina commented, her voice filled with amusement, a light chuckle escaping her lips as she observed the reactions of both commoners and nobles alike.

"I should've expected it," Nathan muttered through gritted teeth, his voice barely audible over the murmurs of the crowd. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at the box where King Aldric was seated.

"To think he'd go as far as banding several commoners together. What is this bastard hoping to achieve?" Brawn clenched his fist, a red vein pulsing on his temple. Like Nathan, he too was a commoner. No matter which angle he looked at it from, he found the king's actions to be despicable.

What point was he trying to prove?

On the elevated platform, Sir Ignatius remained expressionless as he regarded the commoners with an indifferent gleam in his eye. The commoners' expressions were a mixture of nervousness and burning determination. Most of them had trembling hands, barely keeping their weapons still.

The eyes of the determined ones flickered from time to time as they muttered silent prayers to their patron gods, unaware that the gods had much more important matters to attend to.

The knight commander sneered disdainfully as he saw them. He had long known about the king's plan and had aided him every step — he was the one who had even gathered the commoners. At that moment, Prince Ainsworth stepped onto the fighting platform. He was clad in golden armor that reflected a blinding radiance under the afternoon sun.

Ainsworth's features were concealed by a winged golden helmet with burning slits for eyes, giving him an imposing and almost otherworldly appearance. The prince's presence on the platform drew immediate attention, and the commoners all scrambled to find their positions. Because the platform was several hundred meters long, it could accommodate all the 101 Awakened.

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A sharp clang pierced the air as the prince unsheathed his weapon. The commoners flinched, fear flashing across their faces, but they quickly regained their composure.

"Come on, he's just one person!" shouted a voice from the crowd, the speaker tightening their grip on a spear. "If we work together, we could overpower him!"

The commoners on the platform exchanged determined looks, their initial fear slowly fading in front of Prince Ainsworth's imposing presence. The one who had spoken, a young man with a spear, stood tall despite his trembling hands. He seemed to have become the unofficial leader of the commoners.

"He's right! We can do this if we stand together!" another shouted, rallying their spirits. The group of commoners, now galvanized by their shared courage, spread out on the platform, forming a circle around the golden-armored prince.

From the royal box, King Aldric's eyes glimmered with amusement, a fleeting smile curling his lips as he emitted a low, humorless chuckle. "These mongrels," he mused, his voice carrying a trace of disdain, "did they truly believe they stood a chance against Ainsworth, who is already at level..."

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