Chapter 140 : 140-Solos shocked

Solos's POV *** As the smoke gradually cleared, my anticipation only grew stronger. Come on... show me that bruised, defeated face of yours... Show me that face... As the smoke began to clear, I found myself staring at something that shattered all my expectations. I stood there, frozen, my eyes wide with disbelief... Where I had expected to see the pathetic face of the bastard, I could just make out the enormous figure of something stone-like standing on the ground. That's... Within seconds, as the last of the smoke dissipated, revealing the scene before me, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn't the sheer size of the giant stone body that shocked me—no, it was something far worse. The creature, Onylitor, was headless. His head... it was completely missing. Confusion surged through me. Where is his head? I thought frantically. Could that bastard have done something? But how? How was that even possible? He is just a- Before I could finish the thought, the wind around me suddenly picked up, swirling faster and faster. My instincts kicked in, and I tightened my grip on my sword, readying myself. What's going on? The trees around me began to shake, their leaves rustling violently, as if something was sweeping through the forest. Why is everything moving so fast? A growing sense of dread slowly began to creep over me. Then, I felt it... A sudden, chilling gust of wind hit the back of my neck, unnaturally strong, making the hairs on my skin stand on end. What was that? It felt as if the air behind me had become a living thing, charging toward me with impossible speed. My instincts flared, sending a wave of alarm through my body. I spun around, sword raised, barely in time to face whatever was coming. A blast of wind surged toward my neck, sharper than anything I had ever felt, like the air itself had turned into a blade. I had no idea what it was, but my instincts screamed at me to block it—whatever it was, it was dangerous and closing in fast. If I didn't block it, something terrible was about to happen... I quickly took a defensive stance with my sword, urgently trying to block the wind and shield myself from whatever was coming my way. But then... *Hriing!* A strange sound echoed through the air, and suddenly, something felt terribly wrong with me... What? Everything around me started spinning, like a wheel spinning out of control. The trees... The leaves... Even my broken sword... Wait—When did my sword break? I saw fragments of my shattered blade floating through the air. Panicking, I tried to reach for them, but— Why isn't my hand moving? No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't feel my arms, legs, or my body at all. What's happening? The overwhelming sense of danger I had felt vanished in an instant, as if it had never existed. I wanted to scream, but then I saw something that stopped me cold. Is that... My body? It was still standing right where I had been, but something was horribly wrong. My head was gone with blood flowing from the neck... It didn't take long to understand what had happened. Everything around me—the trees, my body, my broken weapon—wasn't spinning at all. It was me. The thing spinning was my head. I had been decapitated. I was no longer attached to my body. That explained why I couldn't control any part of myself. But how had this happened? When did it all occur without me even noticing? Who the hell had killed me so easily? A enormous wave of anger surged within me, uncontrollable and extreme... Here I was, one of the strongest youths of my generation, taken down without putting up any resistance. Like an ant... To make matters worse, it had all happened in public, with countless hidden cameras streaming the entire scene live. What a shame... Shame on me... How could I have lost? Who the fuck did this? I swear I'll make him regret it once I discover his identity... How could anyone even think of humiliating me in public like this? I will kill him.... I swear... Just then, I squinted my eyes, trying to focus better. Hmm? I saw a blurry figure rushing toward my body at incredible speed, twin daggers in hand. Isn't that the same bastard? As I recognized those daggers, a wave of humiliation and rage crashed over me. Fuck it! Michaellllllllllllll! *** Somewhere... In the dimly lit, elegant office, muffled attempts at speech echoed through the air. "Huhph—Humph!" A man's voice fought to make itself heard, but only garbled, unintelligible sounds emerged. The voice belonged to an older man, slumped in his leather chair, his hands bound tightly behind him. His round face, thinning hair, sagging skin, and thick midsection gave away his age—he appeared to be around sixty. A thick cloth gag was jammed into his mouth, preventing any clear words. Each breath came out as a muffled, strained gasp. "Humph, Humph!" His eyes were wide and filled with tears, a mixture of fear and the sharp pain radiating from his thigh. Blood flowed steadily from the wound, soaking his pants, with dark red stains spreading as droplets fell onto the polished vinyl floor below. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, gasping through muffled whimpers, trying desperately to get someone's attention. But whose? A woman... Across the room, a beautiful woman sat, not bothering to look in his direction. She was relaxed on a plush sofa in the left corner of the office, completely ignoring his pain. Her dark purple corset dress hugged her hourglass figure, making her posture confident and almost regal. The dress was detailed, with black lace along the bodice and a skirt that lightly brushed her thighs. Her skin was pale and smooth, glowing in the soft light of the room. Long black hair flowed over her shoulders in gentle waves. Her face was striking—full burgundy lips, high cheekbones, and sharp dark eyes lined with kohl, giving her an air of cold beauty. She looked to be around 30 to 40 years old. Despite his muffled cries, she stayed fully focused on the large 28-inch mega screen television in the middle of the room. The screen showed a live broadcast of young competitors moving through a dense jungle, carefully hunting monsters lurking in the shadows. The reporter's voice played over the footage, calm and informative, as he explained the progress of the ongoing "Elite Competition," a contest where only the strongest survive. "The Elite Competition has reached a thrilling stage as participants enter the final part of the hunt," the reporter announced with excitement as the camera zoomed in on one of the contestants. This competitor was completely focused, battling lion-like monsters with impressive skill and accuracy. "As you can see," the reporter continued, "Sir James Wilson, the son of the renowned Wilson family, is leading by 100 points. He's making it look effortless as he takes down these creatures." James pressed on, tearing through the jungle and slaying monsters with incredible speed, as if they posed no challenge at all. Meanwhile... A woman watching the broadcast raised an eyebrow when she heard the name. "The Wilsons again?" she muttered, sounding irritated. She then turned her attention to another screen she had been watching for the last thirty minutes. On this screen was a young man with hazel eyes and dark hair. He was handsome and equally skilled in killing monsters, but something seemed off—despite his abilities, there was a clear tension in his expression that couldn't be ignored. The woman's hands gripped the sides of her dress as she watched him, feeling an unexpected wave of anxiety. Suddenly, the young man paused, deep in thought. "What's wrong?" the woman whispered under her breath, her voice barely above a whisper. On the screen, the young man suddenly shifted direction, running back the way he had just come. This surprising move caught the reporter's attention, and he quickly stated, "Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Sir Michael Frostburne, son of the strongest Frostburne family!" With that, the screen zoomed in, providing everyone with a clear view of Michael's actions. He continued running until he stopped in front of a dense bush. Without hesitation, he began digging beside it, leaving the gorgeous woman watching feeling confused. "What's he doing?" she whispered, clearly puzzled. After digging for a few seconds, Michael paused and uncovered something from the ground—golden-colored worms. When the woman saw this, her expression changed as she understood his intentions. "Oh... so that's why... That's my boy!" she exclaimed with a proud smile. Michael quickly resumed slaying the worms, racking up points at an astonishing speed. "So, Sir Michael just now..." the reporter began, but suddenly stopped mid-sentence as his attention shifted to the leaderboard. Out of nowhere, Michael's name had shot up to the very top. Stunned, the reporter stammered, "How is that even possible...?" Before he could finish, a colleague stepped in to clarify the situation. Regaining his composure, the reporter addressed the audience once more, "I apologize for losing my composure, everyone, but we've just witnessed something incredible. Sir Michael has jumped over 100 ranks to claim the number one spot! It's hard to believe, but as we all saw it live, it's official—Sir Michael has now overtaken Sir James as the top contender!" Meanwhile, the woman watching from the sofa smirked with satisfaction and muttered, "Hmph... He is little smart... just as I expected from him after all..." Before she could finish speaking, a loud gagging sound came from the fat man seated nearby, grabbing her attention. "Humphhhhhhhhhhh!" Irritated, she glanced his way and snapped, "Shut up!" while waving her hand dismissively. Suddenly, a sharp slashing sound cut through the room. Then, a moment later, something hit the floor with a heavy thud. It was a limb... The fat man's hand dropped to the floor, blood quickly pooling from the severed limb. He cried out in pain, "Hummmmphhhh!" Clicking her tongue in frustration, the woman coldly asked, "Chizz, do you want to die?" The man froze, meeting her eyes. Her cold, piercing stare sent chills down his spine. Realizing she might actually kill him if he didn't stop, he bit his tongue to stay quiet, trying to endure the pain and slow the bleeding. Ignoring him, the woman turned back to the screen, fully focused on the young man's every move. As she became more focused on the screen, her attention sharpened, and she quickly lost track of time, forgetting entirely why she had come in the first place. Hours passed without her noticing, with only the steady ticking of the Ancient-fashioned clock above the large television marking the time. The clock seems to be a Longines 1913 Watch Clock. By its name alone, it's clear that the owner of this office was definitely a millionaire or billionaire. It has a vintage round case, fancy Roman numerals, and decorative hands, giving it a classic look. The room was so quiet and still that even the slightest sound—a pin dropping—would have echoed loudly in the silence. The quiet was almost overwhelming. The clock, a simple reminder of the world outside, continued to tick rhythmically, now reading 11:42 a.m. She murmured, "Ah, at last, some peace." From outside the glass windows, she could hear the faint chirping of birds, their soft song drifting up from the streets far below. The office was located on the 90th floor of a tall skyscraper, making the sound of birds surprising and almost peaceful at such a height. The room was filled with a soft, dim light. Only a few rays of sunlight managed to filter through the thick curtains, most of the brightness blocked by the heavy drapes and aluminum foil covering the windows. The beautiful woman kept her eyes on the young man, who was now sprinting around, searching for monsters. His focus was intense as he moved from one spot to another with determination. It had been a few minutes since his last monster kill, and his rank had dropped from first to fifth. Because of this, James was now on the big screen, while the other top ten players were shown on smaller ones. Suddenly... "Hmm... another one?" The stunning woman muttered quietly as Michael watched on the small screen... Everything changed when another young man, about the same age, emerged from the bushes. His dark brown hair and sharp green eyes instantly gave away his identity. "Well, well, look who I've found," the newcomer said with a mocking tone. Michael turned and instantly recognized him. "You? What do you want now?" It was Solos, the fourth-ranked player. A smirk spread across his face as he replied, "Revenge." The word seemed to linger in the air. Back in the lounge, the woman sitting on the couch flinched slightly when she heard it. Her eyes grew dark, cold, and deep. She muttered to herself, "Revenge? Against him?" An uneasy silence filled the room, only to be broken by her sudden laughter. "Hahaha!" Her laughter echoed in the quiet space. "Revenge?" she repeated, her voice thick with sarcasm. "When was the last time I burned someone's family alive?" Tension quickly rose after a few sharp words were exchanged. Without any hesitation, both men drew their weapons, and the fight began in full force. Suddenly, Solos lunged forward, stabbing Michael in the stomach. "I knew I could do it!" he snarled, a look of victory in his eyes. Watching from the sidelines, the woman clenched her fists, trying hard to keep her emotions in check as the violent scene unfolded. "That kid... I guess I'll have to punish him a bit myself," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. After a moment, Solos jumped back, creating some distance between them as the fight continued. Sensing the intensity of the moment, the reporter shifted the focus with renewed energy. "And there you have it, folks! Sir Michael is now face-to-face with Sir Solos in what marks the first battle between two of the top ten contenders. This matchup promises to be a thrilling display of skill!" The battle was now being live-streamed on the huge screen. It was a rare sight since most top rankers had avoided fighting each other until now. But this fight had changed everything. Suddenly, the reporter...