The General's Daughter: The Mission

Yet, despite the impressive footage, Nemesis remained motionless, his masked face revealing nothing.

Five minutes later, the video finally came to an end.

Now, it was Rocky’s turn.

Nemesis slowly swept his gaze across the VIP section, studying the distinguished guests occupying the exclusive seats the arena.

His eyes settled on Anton Trillo first.

The wealthy businessman sat comfortably in his seat, a beautiful young woman beside him. She looked young enough to be his daughter, yet the ease with which they occupied the same space suggested that their relationship might be more complicated than it appeared.

Nemesis spared them only a brief glance before moving on.

Then he saw Artemio.

The old general was seated among the distinguished guests, his slightly wrinkled face wearing an expression of quiet satisfaction. The moment their eyes met, he raised his hand and gave Nemesis a thumbs-up.

A faint glint flickered in Nemesis’s eyes.

So, the man came after all.

She acknowledged him with the slightest shift of her gaze before turning her attention elsewhere.

And then—

Her pupils constricted.

For a fraction of a second, the composed fighter seemed to forget the noise of the arena.

Seated in the VIP box beside Anton Trillo were Asher and Ares Zuvel.

Liam Norse sat nearby, with Logan and Lucas on his other side. General Leonard Norse occupied a seat beside them, his imposing presence unmistakable even among the influential guests.

Nemesis’s gaze moved farther down.

In the second row sat Aquilo Vibora.

And beside him was another familiar face.

Yannis Fenn.

Nemesis’s fingers curled slowly into fists.

He had expected military personnel to attend the competition. After all, an event of this magnitude would naturally attract people interested in witnessing exceptional combat skills firsthand.

But this?

So many familiar faces, gathered in one place?

That was something he had not anticipated.

For an instant, questions crowded her mind.

What were they doing here? Were they merely spectators, or was there another reason for their presence?

Most importantly, how much did they know?

Nemesis suppressed the questions before they could distract him. Whatever their reasons for coming, he could not afford to let their presence affect his performance.

Not tonight.

She withdrew his gaze and finally turned his attention to the man standing across the arena.

Rocky.

Up close, the difference between them was almost comical.

Rocky was a mountain of a man, his massive frame covered in thick, well-defined muscles. His bare upper body glistened beneath the harsh arena lights, highlighting his broad shoulders, powerful chest, and eight-pack abdomen. Every movement made the muscles beneath his skin ripple with restrained power.

He looked less like an ordinary fighter and more like a human weapon built for destruction.

Beside him, Nemesis appeared scarcely half his size.

Nemesis’ shoulders were narrow, his waist slim, and his overall frame lean enough to invite underestimation. Even with his face concealed behind a black mask, his slender build gave him an almost delicate appearance.

The contrast was striking.

And the audience noticed.

When the betting pool opened, the odds quickly reflected the crowd’s judgment.

Rocky was the overwhelming favorite.

Only a handful of people placed their money on Nemesis, and even fewer were willing to wager a substantial amount on the supposedly undersized newcomer.

Among those betting on her were Ares, Asher, and the Norse brothers.

Their confidence stood in stark contrast to the skepticism surrounding them.

Anton Trillo, meanwhile, placed bets on both fighters.

However, the amount he wagered on Nemesis was considerably larger than the sum he placed on Rocky.

Had Nemesis known about it, he might have raised an eyebrow.

The businessman was either unusually perceptive or possessed a very interesting reason for believing in him.

Perhaps both.

Nemesis’s attention drifted back toward the VIP section.

Ares was already looking at him.

Even from a distance, he could see the frown etched across his face. His expression was unusually grim, his dark eyes fixed on him with an intensity that seemed at odds with the excitement surrounding the main event.

He did not look entertained.

If anything, he appeared displeased.

Nemesis held his gaze for a moment.

Then he was the first to look away.

Whatever Ares Zuvel was thinking, he had no intention of finding out in the middle of a fight.

Three seconds before the betting window closed, a new wager appeared.

Ten million.

All on Nemesis.

The sudden addition stirred a ripple of excitement among the betting spectators. Heads turned toward the electronic display as whispers spread through the VIP section.

Someone had just placed a fortune on the underdog.

Someone believed Nemesis could win.

But who?

The betting window slammed shut before anyone could investigate further.

A moment later, the announcer’s booming voice thundered through the arena.

”Ladies and gentlemen! The wait is over! Welcome to the MAIN EVENT of this weeklong mixed martial arts competition!”

The crowd erupted.

”Fighting out of the blue corner, we have a dark horse who has taken the competition by storm! Six opponents have stepped into the cage against him—and six have fallen!”

The giant screen displayed Nemesis’s masked face.

”Fast! Precise! Ruthless! Undefeated in his first six fights! Give it up for the mysterious fighter who has left the entire competition wondering just who—or what—he really is!”

The announcer paused dramatically.

”NEEEEEEMESIIIIIS!”

A smattering of applause answered him.

A few spectators clapped. Others merely stared, unconvinced that the slender figure standing beneath the blue spotlight deserved to share the arena with the reigning champion.

Nemesis did not care.

She had never needed an audience’s approval to win.

”Look at him,” a man scoffed from the stands. ”He’s so short and slender. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was a woman.”

”Shut up! Didn’t you watch his previous fights?” another spectator retorted. ”That guy dismantled six opponents like they were nothing!”

”So what? Rocky isn’t some ordinary fighter. Nemesis might have beaten six people, but none of them were Rocky.”

”Exactly! This is where his lucky streak ends.”

The debate spread through the stands, but the announcer’s voice soon drowned out the argument.

”And now, ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for the man who needs no introduction!”

The lights dimmed.

A deep, pounding rhythm rolled through the arena as a spotlight illuminated the red corner.

”Standing before you is the reigning, defending, undisputed king of mixed martial arts! A champion who has also claimed titles across multiple boxing divisions! For three consecutive years, he has remained undefeated, crushing every challenger who dared to take his throne!”

The crowd was already on its feet.

”Tonight, he returns to defend his legacy! The man, the myth, the monster of the cage!”

The announcer drew a dramatic breath.

”ROOOOOOCKYYYYYY!”

The arena exploded.

”ROCKYYYYYY!”

”ROCKYYYYYY!”

”ROCKYYYYYY!”

Thousands of voices thundered through the venue. Spectators jumped to their feet, waving their arms and chanting the champion’s name. The roar was so deafening that it seemed to shake the very structure of the arena.

Rocky raised both arms, soaking in the adoration.

A confident grin spread across his face.

This was his territory.

His arena.

His crown.