LVIII

I stepped onto the stage, my boots clicking against the polished surface, and cast a glance toward President Bob. The crowd’s eyes were on me, their anticipation on the edge. This time, I hadn’t brought my doll. No distractions, no safety nets—I wanted this fight to be on my terms.

“Before we start,” I said, my voice cutting through the murmurs of the audience, “I have something to say.”

Bob raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Oh? This better be good.”

“It’s a live broadcast, right?” I asked, scanning the arena for the invisible cameras.

Bob nodded. “Of course. Millions are watching.”

“Good,” I replied with a small smirk. “Let’s give them a show.”

Bob sighed, waving a hand in mock surrender. “Fine. The stage is yours.”

Turning to face Dummy—no, Karl—I spoke with deliberate calmness, knowing the cameras would capture every word.

“My name is Reynard Bright,” I began, letting the weight of my words settle over the audience. “I value my anonymity, but I also understand that in the Hunter World, secrets don’t stay buried forever. So, I’ve decided to come clean.”

I took a deep breath, letting the tension build. “Two years ago, my family was attacked by the Oval Mercenary Group. They were slaughtered—by my wife—as a consequence of their offensive. But the ones who orchestrated it, the true culprits, are members of the Elsewhere Cult.”

I gestured toward my opponent with theatrical flair.

“Karl Arman,” I said, my voice ringing with authority. “The man standing before you is one of their agents. He hides behind the alias ‘Dummy,’ but his real identity is a disgraced noble, over a hundred years old. He’s living proof of the cult’s twisted promises of immortality.”

Karl’s smug expression wavered, his facade beginning to crack.

“The Elsewhere Cult,” I continued, “isn’t just a rogue faction. They’re a cancer, a group dedicated to summoning cryptids—those monsters we Hunters are sworn to destroy. To them, these abominations are gods. And they’ll stop at nothing to bring their so-called deities into our world.”

“SHUT UP!” Karl roared, his voice laced with fury.

For the first time, his mask of indifference shattered. The aloof predator who had toyed with his opponents was gone, replaced by raw anger.

Good. That’s what I wanted.

“They promise immortality,” I said, my voice rising, “but it comes at a cost—human sacrifice. They’ve hoarded forbidden techniques and artifacts, their roots reaching back further than the Association itself. But here’s the truth—they’re rotting from within. Blind fanaticism has turned them into nothing more than a nest of deluded bigots.”

Karl’s aura surged violently, his patience snapping like a brittle thread. In an instant, he lunged at me, his fist shrouded in energy. The blow was devastating, aimed straight at my chest.

It connected.

And nothing happened.

I stood firm, brushing off my chest as though he’d swatted a fly. “Is that it?” I asked, letting my words drip with mockery. “Let me show you how that should’ve felt.”

His smirk faltered, confusion flashing in his eyes.

My current loadout was limited—just three slots. Puppetry was disabled for this fight, leaving me with Connection, Homing, and Counter. The last one was a borrowed attribute, acquired through a deal with Geoffrey that had been risky but worth it.

“Tenfold Counter,” I murmured, the name of the technique rolling off my tongue like a death sentence.

I mirrored his punch perfectly, down to every detail, but with ten times the force. Thanks to Homing, my fist zeroed in on its target with unerring precision. With Connection, every ounce of energy was transmitted directly into him.

The impact was cataclysmic.

My fist tore through his chest with ease, the sound of the blow like a thunderclap. I felt his heart in my grasp, its desperate beat faltering against my palm. With a single motion, I ripped it free, the organ warm and slick in my hand.

Karl staggered back, clutching at the gaping hole in his chest. The crowd was silent, their collective shock hanging heavy in the air.

I stared at the heart for a moment before tossing it aside with casual disdain. “You wanted drama?” I said, my voice calm and cold. “You’ve got it.”

Karl’s voice was guttural, filled with rage and pain. “I will kill you,” he growled, his aura flaring once more.

I didn’t flinch. “You’ll try.”

Before my eyes, the gaping wound in Karl’s chest began to close. His flesh knitted together with an unnatural speed, leaving behind nothing but the blood-soaked remnants of his torn shirt. In my hand, his heart still throbbed faintly, a grotesque reminder of the damage I had inflicted.

Karl stood tall, brushing his mouth with the back of his hand as if the entire ordeal had been an inconvenience. “Start the match, Bob,” he demanded, his tone as casual as it was arrogant.

From his elevated platform, Bob scowled, his annoyance plain. “Don’t get too familiar with me, fella,” he muttered. Then, with an exaggerated wave of his hand, he sighed, “Fine. Let the match begin!”

The words had barely left Bob’s lips when Karl disappeared. His speed was almost imperceptible, a blur that reappeared directly in front of me, his fist cocked back and brimming with aura.

But I was ready.

As his punch descended, the ground beneath him erupted with glowing ethereal chains. They coiled and twisted like serpents, wrapping around his limbs mid-strike.

“Soul Chains,” I said with a smirk, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “Did you think I’d come to this match unprepared? I deduced the finals and semi-finals would be held here. I’ve had plenty of time to set the stage.”

The chains glowed brighter, their spectral light illuminating Karl’s strained expression as they tightened around him. For a moment, it seemed as though I’d succeeded.

Then, the air around him shimmered unnaturally. The Soul Chains flickered, their radiant form dissolving like smoke in the wind.

“What?” My confidence wavered.

Karl stepped forward, completely unimpeded, his smug smile returning. “Did you think such fragile tricks would work on me?”

He flexed his aura, the oppressive energy crashing over me like a tidal wave. Before I could react, his hand clamped around my throat with inhuman strength, lifting me effortlessly off the ground.

“I will make your death slow and agonizing,” he snarled, his grip tightening.

I gasped for air, the pounding in my temples growing louder. Despite the pain, I managed a choked laugh. “Funny… you should mention that.”

With a mental command, I activated my Puppetry attribute.

The ground beneath Karl shifted, and a pair of mannequin-like hands burst forth, gripping his legs with unyielding force. His eyes widened in surprise as the hands pulled him downward, the arena tiles cracking under the pressure.

Karl’s grip on my throat slackened as he instinctively tried to free himself. I dropped to the ground, stumbling back and rubbing my neck.

“Checkmate,” I said, straightening my tie and forcing a smirk.

The truth was, I’d been standing directly above my doll the entire time. It had been hidden in plain sight, seamlessly integrated into the stage itself. Yeah, I lied about not bringing my doll.

More Soul Chains erupted from the ground, spiraling around Karl in glowing arcs. This time, they wrapped tightly around his body, binding his aura with an almost palpable force.

Karl struggled, his movements wild and desperate, but the chains held—for now.

I studied him, considering my options. Forcing a confession about his crimes and his ties to the Elsewhere Cult would have been ideal, but I knew someone like Karl wouldn’t break so easily. He likely had safeguards in place, protections against mental intrusions or coercion.

Instead, I focused on the heart still clutched in my hand. It pulsed faintly with an aura of its own, a grotesque yet fascinating trophy of Karl’s arrogance.

With a thought, I commanded my doll to rise.

It emerged from the cracked arena floor with eerie grace, its movements unnervingly fluid. The mannequin-like figure stood tall/ I turned my gaze to Karl, whose struggles against the Soul Chains were growing fiercer by the second.

“Karl Arman,” I called out, my tone laced with mockery, “thank you for your generous gift.”

The doll approached silently, its chest cavity opening like the petals of a mechanical flower. With careful precision, I placed the heart inside. The aura within it flared briefly, resonating with the doll as the cavity sealed itself shut.

The doll’s eyes glimmered faintly, signaling the fusion’s completion.

Karl’s furious gaze locked onto mine as the chains binding him began to snap, one after another. Each break sent ripples of energy through the arena, a testament to his immense power.

“Your ability,” I began, my voice calm and analytical, “is fascinating. It allows you to ‘hack’ aura control, doesn’t it? Not so different from my own Soul Link, which lets me sabotage aura. The difference is, yours requires direct eyesight. Paired with your weakening attribute, it’s a potent combination. You dampen your opponent’s senses, then redirect their aura’s functions entirely.”

Karl’s lips curled into a snarl. “You talk too much.”

“Maybe,” I admitted with a shrug. “But at least I am not the one losing…”

The doll’s chest began to glow, its newly integrated power humming with life. I extended a hand, my voice steady and resolute. “Let me show you the consequences of your arrogance.”

With a snap of my fingers, the doll unleashed its power. A brilliant surge of energy erupted from its form, engulfing Karl in a radiant wave.

The arena trembled under the force of the attack, the air thick with the scent of scorched stone and burnt ozone. When the light faded, Karl lay crumpled on the ground, his aura flickering weakly.

I stepped closer, towering over him. “You wanted to make my death slow and agonizing,” I said, my voice cold. “How does it feel to be on the receiving end?”

Karl’s chains groaned as more links snapped free, his aura surging with renewed intensity. The blue and white energy radiated from him in violent waves, making the air itself hum with power. Each movement of his limbs was a testament to his sheer determination, the last of the Soul Chains visibly straining under the pressure.

I stood firm, hands clasped behind my back, my expression calm but watchful. “You have an interesting power.” I began, raising my voice for the crowd and the live broadcast, “With Selena, for instance, you tampered with her perception of time, slowing her reactions. In return, you amplified her sense of pain, breaking her focus. It’s an impressive combination, Karl.”

His glare intensified, his jaw tightening. The disdain in his eyes confirmed how precise my analysis was.

I smirked, letting the moment stretch before continuing, “And as for your vaunted regeneration…” I gestured toward his still-bloodied clothes. “It’s not even yours, is it? You hacked the Tower’s restoration systems, forcing it to misread you as deceased. By faking your death, you’ve exploited its healing protocols. Ingenious, really. And, of course, the referee or the technical team has no way of knowing unless someone points it out.”

A ripple of gasps and murmurs spread through the audience like wildfire.

From his perch, Bob whistled low, leaning lazily on the railing. “He hacked the Tower? Damn. Looks like we’ll need the engineers to clean up this mess. What a headache.”

Karl’s movements grew more aggressive, his muscles straining as he wrested against the last of the chains. One by one, the glowing links snapped, the sound sharp and piercing like gunfire.

Finally, with a roar, Karl broke free, his aura flaring in an almost blinding display of power. He launched himself at me, a blur of motion and fury. “Your arrogance will be your death!”

I didn’t flinch, my gaze steady as his attack bore down on me. “You are mistaken,” I replied, my voice calm and resolute. “You are already dead.”

For a split second, confusion flickered across his face. Then he froze, his momentum halting as he looked down. His eyes widened in horror.

In the grip of a mannequin-like hand behind him, his heart lay bloody and torn, its weak pulsations slowing. My doll had slipped behind him with eerie precision, its silent movements undetected amidst the chaos, and ripped the organ free a second time.

Karl staggered, clutching at his chest, his aura faltering. “How?” he rasped, his voice filled with disbelief.

I tilted my head, my tone as sharp as a blade. “My doll simply used your attribute better than you could. Ironic, isn’t it?”

That was a lie…

It was a ‘sneak attack’, plain and simple.

The doll stood behind Karl, its movements fluid and deliberate.

It raised the heart aloft, its fingers slick with his lifeblood. Then, to my surprise, the doll acted without my direct input. Its chest cavity opened like the petals of a mechanical flower, revealing the first heart I had already embedded within.

I frowned, feeling the connection through our Soul Link. The doll’s actions were precise yet autonomous, an unexpected deviation from my control. With an unsettling grace, it placed Karl’s second heart beside the first, locking it into place with mechanical efficiency.

The faint aura of the first heart flared momentarily, resonating with the second. The doll’s chest cavity sealed itself smoothly, and it stood motionless once more, awaiting further commands.

Karl collapsed to his knees, his aura dissipating like smoke in the wind. The once-mighty presence he carried was reduced to a fading shadow, his body slumping lifelessly to the arena floor.

I stepped forward, studying him for a moment before turning my gaze to the crowd. The faint grin on my face grew into something far more menacing. My victory wasn’t just over Karl—it was a message to the Elsewhere Cult, broadcast to the world.

I glanced at the doll, narrowing my eyes. “I’ll deal with you later,” I murmured under my breath. Whatever had caused this unexpected behavior would need addressing. But for now, my focus was on the victory.

Straightening my tie, I turned to Bob, who was watching with an amused expression. “Call your engineers, Bob,” I said. “This Tower needs a serious patch.”

Bob chuckled, shaking his head. “I like your style. Messy, but effective.”

I didn’t respond, my attention already shifting back to the audience and the cameras. My posture was unwavering, my confidence unshaken. I had barely moved from my place during the fight, except for the brief moment Karl had lifted me by the throat.

Karl Arman was defeated, and the world was watching.

By putting a target on my back, I should be able to protect my family, right?

My voice rang out, steady and sharp, directed at the audience in the arena and the countless viewers tuning in to the broadcast.

“Hunt the Elsewhere Cult, win my favor, and I shall fulfill your wish!”

The weight of my declaration hung in the air, rippling through the crowd like an earthquake. The silence that followed wasn’t empty; it was heavy with anticipation, confusion, and intrigue.

This was the true beginning of my counterattack.

I glanced at Karl’s lifeless form sprawled across the arena floor, his aura completely extinguished. He had been their desperation move, their trump card, and now he was nothing but proof of their failure.

The Prophet’s clairvoyance couldn’t have foreseen this outcome—not with Karl’s very existence distorting probability itself. His presence alone had been enough to blind their so-called omniscience, a flaw in the foundation of their plans. Now, with this broadcast, I was exposing that flaw to anyone paying attention, especially to the Cult’s members.

A spark of satisfaction flickered within me.

I kept my stance firm, my expression unyielding as I addressed the broadcast with unshakable confidence.

“My name is Reynard Bright, and I am the King of Favors.” My voice carried the weight of truth and authority, every syllable deliberately measured to leave an indelible impression.

“I know a lot of things. I know a lot of people. I could move the world with but a word for what I know. My knowledge is treasure, and my favors are sacred. Hunters from all walks of life, I invite you to join my hunt.”

The arena was silent, every pair of eyes and ears fixed on me. Even the restless murmurs of the audience had stilled as they hung on my every word.

“The Elsewhere Cult has offended me, and for that, they shall pay. The bounty I offer is three divine favors. No matter how difficult, I shall fulfill them to my dying breath. The target of subjugation is the leadership of the Elsewhere Cult. Lying before me is one of their three leader figures, the Hero Karl Arman. Now, only two remain: their Saint and their Prophet.”

I paused deliberately, allowing the gravity of my words to sink in. My neutral smile widened slightly, a glimmer of amusement in my eyes as I surveyed the crowd and the unflinching gaze of the cameras.

“Of the two remaining leaders, I know the name of one of them... The Prophet. His name is Sebastian Moore, and he works in the entertainment industry as a powerful business mogul. Aren’t I nice?”

A ripple of astonishment coursed through the crowd. Gasps and murmurs broke out, and I made sure my amused smile reached every corner of the arena.

“Know this,” I continued, my voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “The favor I offer shouldn’t be taken lightly. I possess knowledge of the location of Excalibur, secret treasures scattered around the world, details of cryptids, insight into advanced aura theories, and so much more. I may not know everything, but I know enough. Fellow hunters, I wish you luck.”

The arena buzzed with energy, a mixture of disbelief and excitement. The revelation wasn’t just a call to action—it was bait. A lure for every ambitious, desperate, or daring individual who sought power, wealth, or knowledge.

I turned to President Bob, tilting my head slightly in mock politeness.

“President Bob, would you please kindly announce my victory?”

“With pleasure,” Bob replied, his voice cutting through the tension with practiced ease. He stepped forward, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “The final victor for this match… is Reynard Bright.”

The crowd erupted into a roar, their cheers and applause echoing through the arena. The broadcast carried the sound to countless ears, but more importantly, it carried my message.

This wasn’t just a victory. It was the beginning of something far larger.

As the cameras lingered on me, capturing the unwavering confidence in my posture and the faint, enigmatic smile on my lips, I couldn’t help but think:

This was the storm of butterflies, a cascade of chaos that would reshape everything.

~058