Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 68: Ch Conclave of Youth - 4

She was disqualified after giving up, having been systematically drained by the relentless chain of opponents.

Klaus, from his vantage point in the VIP section, observed the proceedings with a detached gaze.

He saw the subtle flicker of rage in Lord Blackwood’s eyes, the patriarch of the Blackwood family, who was seated a few rows away.

Lord Blackwood’s face was a mask of strained composure, but Klaus could perceive the barely suppressed fury radiating from him.

An injured Rose, her gown torn and her breathing ragged, was immediately attended to by her family’s servants, who rushed onto the arena floor to escort her away.

The public humiliation of the host family’s daughter was complete.

As Rose gave in, the fights from then on went normally for a while, at least in their predictable structure.

Challengers came, fought, and won or lost, but there were no more overt, consecutive targeting attempts for a brief period.

The audience settled back, accepting the flow of the competition.

This calm lasted until challenger number 25 which was leo was called. This participant, a young man from a lesser-known branch family, stepped forward and, to the surprise of some but the knowing nod of others, called out "Arthur!"

And the same systematic story repeated itself, but in a much more intense manner.

Arthur, possessed excellent speed and formidable thunder-element-based abilities. He moved with lightning speed, often appearing as a blur, his attacks imbued with raw, crackling electrical energy.

He almost effortlessly sliced through his opponents, his sword cut through the defenses as if they were paper.

Some opponents, faced with his overwhelming display of power, were so terrified that they simply gave in, choosing to surrender rather than face his relentless assault.

He cleared one opponent after another, stacking up tokens.

The cycle continued. Challenger after challenger, again mostly from the legacy families stepped forward to challenge Arthur.

Each duel took a toll on his endurance and his mana reserves depleted slowly.

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Now, it was the turn of challenger number 50, another young brat from one of the prominent Legacy Families.

Arthur’s combat prowess, even though great, was not limitless; his stamina had a finite capacity.

He was visibly huffing vigorously, his breathing heavy, sweat streaking his face.

His movements, though still fast, lacked the explosive power of his initial rounds. His mana pool was clearly dwindling.

Lady Crimson, watching from her seat, saw this and frowned.

Her sharp eyes darted towards the other Paragons, the patriarchs of the other Legacy Families. They all looked back at her with sneers and cheap, triumphant smiles. Their plan was working.

"Never thought you all would stoop so low," Lady Crimson said, her voice cutting through the subtle chatter, though it was only audible to the Paragons at their table.

Her expression was one of cold disgust. The five other Paragons, who had orchestrated this collective bullying, did not say anything in reply.

They merely maintained their knowing smiles. They had planned all this specifically for Arthur, to break his spirit and show him his place as a commoner.

They never thought he would last for so many rounds, defeating so many of their children.

They looked at him as if he was not just a competent challenger, but a stubborn monster who needed to be thoroughly suppressed.

They saw his resilience as a threat to themselves.

Finally, Arthur’s mana had nearly run out in his current round.

He was fighting solely with his raw physical strength and his sword, his thunder element skills flickering weakly. His movements were becoming visibly strained.

"Hmm... truly a hero. Foolish as always," Klaus said, observing Arthur from his seat beside William.

His tone was flat devoid of any genuine admiration or disdain, simply a statement of observation.

He knew instinctively Arthur was hiding his true powers, using only a fraction of his full capabilities to contend with those nosy brats.

This deliberate suppression of power did not sit well with Klaus. He knew the truth about this world, the more lenient you became, the more you held back,

the these MF’s would think they were stronger than you.

It would invite further aggression, further humiliation. In his experience, holding back only led to more suffering.

"Well, he doesn’t have much backing anyway," Klaus thought, mentally comparing Arthur’s situation to his own.

Unlike Klaus, who had just been publicly declared the grandson and heir of William Bennet, the head of the Hunter’s Association, Arthur was just "in name" a part of the Crimson family.

His true roots were unknown to the public, his lineage unverified by the Legacy Families.

So, perhaps that was why he hesitated in exposing too much of his true power, revealing it might draw unwanted attention from these powers.

Arthur was now panting heavily, his chest heaving with exertion.

Although he had suppressed his true powers, his stamina was still limited.

His movements faltered as he defeated the youth in his current duel. The opponent, an A-ranker, finally yielded.

Arthur stood gaining his balance, gripping the hilt of his sword, his body trembling slightly from exhaustion. He had pushed himself to the brink.

Elara, her face etched with worry and frustration, walked quickly near the arena’s edge.

"Arthur!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd.

"It’s okay! Just come out of this damn arena! This is not a competition anymore anyway! They’re just trying to break you!" Her concern for him was genuine.

Arthur looked at Elara, his eyes softened by her raw plea.

Her face was etched with genuine concern.

He acknowledged her words. He looked at his personal quest window, which flashed a triumphant notification.

[Quest Completed: Forged in Fire!]

The task was to defeat the chain of participants who targeted him, and he had done so.

He had proven his resilience.

He nodded slightly at Elara, a silent agreement to her words before he turned and walked out of the arena, his head held high despite his exhaustion,

the crowd’s applause a mix of genuine respect and polite acknowledgement.

The next youth who came up was a girl from one of the minor families. She assessed the situation, and to the visible relief of the audience, she challenged someone else, not Arthur.

It seemed that she had received orders to not target Arthur further, perhaps seeing that he was already exhausted, and the point had been made.

This went on for several more rounds, the challenges becoming more random, less coordinated, until the 70th participant was called.

It was James Ravenstein. He walked onto the stage with a sneer firmly plastered on his face, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

He had waited patiently for this moment. He called out, his voice sharp and clear, echoing through the arena.

"Klaus Bennet!"

Every eye in the massive, tiered seating immediately fixated on Klaus.

The air in the arena thickened with anticipation, a collective held breath.

Klaus heard the challenge.

He simply smiled, a thin, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that betrayed nothing of his thoughts.

He slowly stood up from his seat beside William and looked at his grandfather, who met his gaze with a subtle nod.

Klaus’s calm voice spoke to William. "You remember your promise, right, Grandpa?"

William chuckled, a low rumble. "Yea, yea. I’ll make a personalized liquor bar for you. Top shelf, from every place I’ve visited."

"Yeah," Klaus replied, a slight nod of his head, his focus already shifting.

"For the liquor." He turned and began walking towards the arena, his steps deliberate, his posture radiating an understated power.

He reached the elevated platform near the arena’s entrance to the main anchor of the event, already standing there.

Klaus addressed him directly, his voice clear and resonant.

"Mr. Blackwood," he began, "I have a doubt."

The host, still looking somewhat distressed from Rose’s earlier sequential targeting and humiliation, turned to Klaus with a sad, weary expression.

He had seen too many promising young talents broken by these politically motivated duels. "Ask on," he said, his voice flat.

"How much can we injure?" Klaus asked, his question was direct and was devoid of any preamble.

The host sighed. He knew what kind of question this was, what it implied.

He replied, his voice firm, "You cannot kill. Beyond that, our potions are potent enough to heal anything else, so you are free to injure to any extent."