I Have 10,000 SSS Rank Villains In My System Space

Chapter 44: Like Asking To Bet Your Wife

Selena, standing beside Areon, opened her mouth, as if to speak to stop this, to say something but then closed it again. The tension between the two men was thick, palpable. Her fingers twitched at her sides, betraying the storm she hid behind her emotionless face.

And yet, despite the slap, despite the insult, Areon’s protectors had not moved. Not one shadow stirred. Not one blade was drawn. Why?

Because there had been no killing intent in Razeal’s movements. None. That slap had been slow, deliberate, its purpose not to harm but to insult. Any one of them could have stopped it. Areon himself could have dodged it, blocked it, broken Razeal’s arm if he wished as how soft Razeal looks. But he hadn’t.

He had let the slap land. Willingly.

Perhaps because, deep down, he needed a reason a way to balance the scales. Razeal had helped him, however indirectly. Opened the door to the dragon heart, led him to his greatest strength. Areon’s pride wouldn’t let him simply thank him. No, this was better. By taking the slap, by enduring the insult, he could cross out the favor, erase the debt. And now, by accepting the duel, he could reclaim his honor, publicly settle what had begun between them.

His protectors, trained to the highest discipline, waited in the shadows. They did not act, because their master had not ordered it. They did not question. Their task was to protect Areon from death, not to intervene in matters of pride and honor. Until he commanded otherwise, they would remain still.

And so the Colosseum watched, silent and breathless. Thousands waited for what would come next, knowing they were witnessing something that would be remembered for generations.

”Name your terms,” Areon said at last, his voice a low growl beneath his calm mask, his fists clenched tight at his sides. His pride was burning, but his face showed only the icy calm of a man too proud to show the storm raging within. ”Let’s end this farce.”

Razeal’s smile widened so much so that it nearly twisted his face, the grin stretching with a dangerous, unhinged energy. His eyes gleamed as he met Areon’s cold gaze.

”I want the Holy Promise,” Razeal said, his tone soft but cutting, his grin now almost deformed in its boldness.

The words had barely left Razeal’s mouth when the entire Colosseum seemed to freeze. The atmosphere turned to ice. The breath of thousands was stolen as if the air itself had been snatched away. A deadly silence spread over the arena. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.

Holy Promise? Areon’s heart skipped a beat, his composure faltering for a brief second. His eyes narrowed. He almost staggered under the sheer audacity of the request.

”I know you have it,” Razeal continued, his voice laced with a mocking kind of certainty. That wild smile stayed fixed on his face. ”Give it to me.”

The crowd stared, stunned beyond words. Holy Promise a divine favor bestowed only upon those deemed worthy by the Church of Light itself. A single wish, a promise from the church that anything, absolutely anything, would be fulfilled as long as it did not harm the church or its doctrine. An oath backed by faith, history, and the will of the God of Light. It was said to be a gift that originated in the age of myths, a tradition born from the god himself. Sacred beyond measure, honored by all who believed.

And Areon... Areon had earned that promise. Four years ago, when he had risked everything to save the Saintess from a calamity that could have destroyed not just her, but the church itself. As reward, as thanks, the church had given him the Holy Promise one wish, to be claimed when the moment came.

And now, Razeal wanted to take it.

Razeal, of course, knew the truth. Knew it wasn’t anything divine. To him, it was nothing but one more piece of the ridiculous luck that clung to Areon like armor the plot armor of the so called protagonist. Heavenly luck, absurd fortune, the kind that let men like Areon glide through life blessed by the universe itself. But now? Now Razeal would strip it away. He would make Areon give it to him. With his own hands.

The crowd could barely process what they’d heard. The sheer audacity the blasphemy of asking for such a sacred gift as if it were just some prize to be won, some trinket on a gambler’s table. No one, in all the long, storied history of the empire, in all the lands beyond, had ever dared to think this way, let alone speak the words aloud.

Gulp.

All around the arena, the sound of thousands swallowing hard echoed faintly. No one knew what to say. No one dared guess what this mad boy truly wanted, what scheme burned behind those cold eyes.

Areon opened his mouth as if to speak but no words came. He shut it again, his mind whirling, stunned by the weight of the demand. The Holy Promise was not just valuable it was priceless. Sacred. The idea of placing it as a wager in a duel was... obscene. Like something similar to putting your wife on a bet. It’s not about the worth it’s just that she doesn’t deserve to be treated in such a disrespectful way.”

Razeal raised his eyebrows at him, mockery in his gaze. ”Are you afraid?” His voice dripped challenge, daring him to say yes.

Areon took a slow, deep breath, willing the storm inside him to calm. His heart pounded, his blood ran hot. And yet, he would not retreat. His gaze met Razeal’s, steel for steel. A flicker of wildness entered Areon’s eyes if this fool wanted madness, he would not back down. His pride would not allow it.

He stared at the boy before him this boy who stood without a flicker of aura, without even the faintest touch of mana, no contract marks, no strength that could be seen. Just flesh and bone. Did he really believe that by naming this wager, he could force Areon to give it up? Did he think to grasp victory with words?

Holy Promise? Areon thought, the fire in him rising. It’s not going anywhere. He wouldn’t lose. Couldn’t lose. Not to him. The boy before him was nothing. Just a fucking Weak fool.

Besides he had more strength now than ever before. The dragon heart beat within him, raw and powerful. Its energy surged through him in waves, making his whole being hum with life. Two sources of mana now coursed through his veins the ancient dragon’s gift and his own, fused, their purity greater than before. His aura had already risen in quality, and the true magic of the heart hadn’t even begun to unfold yet. He could feel it he was destined for greater heights. There was no one who could match him now.

The crowd waited. The tension crackled in the air like lightning before a storm. And Areon’s pride made its choice.

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Ahh, man... it’s really so exhausting to write conversations and keep track of all the reactions not to mention making sure the characters’ thoughts and emotions stay true to who they are.

I’m so damn tired...

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