Chapter 155: "Do You Have Any Evidence?"

For the first time since entering the ring, Nazario’s fury was overshadowed by something far more dangerous.

Fear.

Real fear.

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something — anything at all to make this madness stop. But before he could speak, Aren drew back her blade and brought it down.

"Hargh—!"

Within moments, the canvas was stained red.

The entire warehouse had fallen deathly silent as everyone watched the Lombardi heiress relentlessly attack the Marchetti young man.

Through it all, Nazario somehow still managed to shout back.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"I didn’t do any of that shit you’re accusing me of!"

"Fuck you two cowards! Give me my blade back and fight me properly!"

Aren, of course, had no intention of doing that. She shook her head regretfully.

"I’m afraid I can’t do that. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t clear enough. Let me make myself perfectly clear..."

She paused, carefully choosing her words this time.

"Please confess that you took the defective ammunition from Natalia Porto and swapped it with Jordan’s rounds during the first round... and that you teamed up with the soldiers to corner Jordan during the second round."

Then, abruptly, she stopped, as though catching her own mistake.

"Oh, wait... I don’t think the rules actually forbid you from teaming up, so that’s not exactly illegal..."

Her expression brightened again.

"Still, you swapped the ammunition. That was bad. Please confess it!"

She continued attacking.

Nazario continued denying everything while scrambling backward across the canvas.

"SHUT UP, YOU CRAZY WOMAN! I NEVER DID ANY OF THAT!"

Nearby, Jordan couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of the scene.

’Ah... seriously.’

’She really doesn’t have to do this for me.’

He casually walked over to his crawling brother and glanced toward Aren.

"Mind if I join you in the interrogation?" he said conversationally. "I’m the directly offended party here. I should at least get to enjoy some of the fun."

"Oh!" Aren blushed, a warm smile lightening up her face. "Right! How thoughtless of me. Um... yes, please, Jordan. Please join me!"

Nazario stared at the two of them as though they had collectively lost their minds. Even so, stubbornness still burned hotter than fear.

"Shut the fuck up! Don’t frame me! I didn’t swap any fucking ammunition during the first round!"

Unfortunately for him, the soldiers seated closest to the ring could clearly hear those words. The moment they understood the conversation, the information spread through the surrounding ranks like fire through dry grass.

"God... seriously?"

"Mister Nazario tried to swap the Young Boss’s ammunition with defective rounds?"

"And I thought he was strong enough to win on his own."

"Apparently not."

The murmuring only grew louder from there. Eventually, it became impossible for the distinguished guests seated above the arena to ignore.

Eduardo’s brow furrowed.

"What the hell is going on down there?"

Beside him, Giovanni rubbed his chin, straining to hear.

"I have no idea. They’re shouting something, but I can’t make out the words from here. All I can hear is the noise."

Gian, who had remained quiet until then, finally spoke.

"It seems a rather heated debate is taking place among your soldiers, Don Eduardo. And apparently..." His gaze remained fixed on the ring. "...my daughter and your son have stopped competing against each other and are now focusing entirely on attacking that young man."

Meanwhile, Natalia, who had already been struggling to maintain her perfect composure, was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her expression under control.

She had been watching the screens closely.

She had read Nazario’s lips.

She understood exactly what was happening.

Jordan had joined forces with the Lombardi heiress to force Nazario into confessing everything.

Natalia’s teeth clenched.

’You better not say a single word about me, you little bastard.’

Unconsciously, she tightened her grip around her clutch. She could already imagine the disaster waiting to unfold if Nazario let even one useful detail slip.

At the far end of the same row, Caio had been watching the scene with equal attention. Understanding slowly dawned across his face.

’Hm.’

’Interesting.’

’Seems this competition is even more fucked up than I thought.’

He turned toward the other men.

"Gentlemen."

Every gaze shifted toward him.

"Shall we go downstairs and find out?" he suggested, a faint smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "I have a feeling we’re missing something important."

The other men exchanged glances.

After a moment, Gian nodded.

"Let’s go downstairs and see. I reckon young Nazario is reaching his limit. Perhaps we can talk him down before he collapses completely."

Eduardo nodded grimly.

"After you, gentlemen."

Giovanni followed suit.

"Don Eduardo, I’ll join you as well."

Natalia froze the instant she heard that. She immediately rose to her feet, somehow managing to preserve the elegant composure she had been fighting to maintain.

"Then I’ll come as well, Father."

"Of course," Giovanni replied, giving the suggestion little thought.

Together, the five of them made their way downstairs with several subordinates following behind.

Down below, inside the ring, the relentless interrogation had not stopped.

If anything, it had only intensified.

Jordan was now doing most of the work, driving Nazario backward with a series of punishing strikes, while Aren had fallen slightly behind.

Instead of joining the pursuit, she stood several steps away, watching the two brothers with a troubled expression.

’This interrogation method isn’t working.’

’Nazario is bleeding so much, and yet he’s still refusing to confess.’

Her expression grew increasingly thoughtful.

’At this rate, he’ll bleed until he loses consciousness and gets carried away by the medics before I accomplish what I want.’

’Conclusion: change from physical violence to a genuine threat.’

Decision made, Aren nodded firmly to herself. She stepped closer to Jordan just as he prepared to bring another brutal hack down toward Nazario.

"I’m sorry, Jordan," she said, covering her mouth as though sharing a secret. "May I try something more effective this time?"

Jordan immediately turned toward her, surprise flickering across his face.

’Something more effective?’

Curiosity quickly followed, and a smile slowly spread across his lips.

’I really do want to see what else she’s been hiding.’

He stepped aside without protest and gestured toward Nazario with exaggerated courtesy.

"Of course." He lowered his head like a gentleman presenting the stage to a performer. "The stage is yours, my lady."

Aren laughed softly as she accepted the invitation. The moment she stepped in front of Nazario, however, she didn’t swing her machete.

Instead, she raised the cold tip of the blade and pressed it against the inside of the crook of his elbow.

Nazario shivered the instant he felt the metal against his skin.

"W-What..." he stammered, staring at the blade. "...what the fuck are you planning to do now?"

"Threaten you," Aren replied simply. "If you don’t confess right now, I’m going to sever your flexor tendon right here."

Behind her, Jordan stiffened completely. He understood exactly what she meant.

’No way...’

’Is she really going to...?’

’That’s... brutal as hell.’

His mind struggled to catch up with the sheer amount of gruesome knowledge the young woman standing before him apparently possessed. Even so, he remained where he was, holding his breath as he watched, half horrified and half fascinated to see whether her method would actually work.

Nazario, however, still seemed unable to comprehend what the hell was happening.

Before he could bark out another protest, Aren slowly glided the blade along the skin of his inner elbow, deliberately tracing the exact place where she intended to cut.

"If sliced cleanly..." she said softly, her eyes following the tendon beneath his skin, "...no surgeon in this city will ever be able to put it back together for you. And you won’t just lose the Trials, Mister Nazario."

A bright smile spread across her face.

"You’ll spend the rest of your life unable to form a tight fist, hold a gun, or wield a blade ever again."

The words seemed to drain what little color remained in Nazario’s face, remarkable considering how much blood he had already lost.

"No way!" he snarled. "You’re bluffing! You’re spewing bullshit just to threaten me! There’s no fucking way something like that could happen! Don’t try to fool me!"

Aren looked visibly disappointed.

For a brief moment, she wondered whether she had simply failed to explain herself clearly enough.

Still, she didn’t argue.

"Well..." she said, pressing the dull edge of the machete deeper against his skin. "Since you don’t believe me... shall we find out?"

Something caught in Nazario’s throat.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him that this was serious. This wasn’t another bluff or an empty threat. This was something he needed to consider very, very carefully.

Yet the words refused to come.

’No...’

’No... I can’t confess.’

’If I confess...’

’Father is going to kill me himself!’

He opened his mouth, ready to shout exactly that, but at that precise moment, Aren moved.

She rotated the machete.

The sharp edge met Nazario’s skin.

The blade began to draw—

"NO! NO! NO! WAIT! WAIT!"

Aren stopped instantly.

Nazario seized the opening.

"I’LL CONFESS EVERYTHING! I WILL!"

At once, the murmurs rippling through the warehouse seemed to die.

Before anyone had time to process what they had just heard, Nazario was already shouting again, desperation overpowering his pride.

"I did it! I swapped Jordan’s ammunition with defective cartridges in the armory to destroy his accuracy in the first round!"

For several seconds, stunned silence followed.

Soldiers, medics, staff members, technicians — everyone exchanged bewildered glances before a wave of whispers spread through the warehouse like wildfire.

"What the hell?"

"Did you hear that?"

"He’s really done something like that?"

"That’s fucking nasty."

At the same time, Eduardo and the others had reached the area beside the ring. They had arrived just in time to hear the confession from beginning to end.

Eduardo himself seemed to turn to stone.

His face twisted with disbelief and fury, and when his voice finally cut through the surrounding noise, it carried across the ring with unmistakable authority.

"What is this nonsense, Miss Lombardi?!"

All three figures inside the ring turned toward him.

Nazario’s face went deathly pale.

’I’m finished.’

He knew it.

Whatever happened next, there was no way his life would return to normal after this.

But before he could say another word, Jordan stepped forward.

"Father," he said, pointing directly at Nazario, "I wish to report that Nazario planned to sabotage this year’s Trials."

Eduardo’s expression darkened even further.

"I wasn’t asking you!" he roared.

Almost everyone nearby flinched.

His furious gaze locked onto Aren and Aren alone.

"Miss Lombardi! Start explaining!"

Aren scratched her cheek awkwardly.

"Well... the explanation is basically in everything you’ve just heard."

She turned toward Nazario.

"Could you please repeat that again? It seems your father didn’t catch the whole thing."

Nazario immediately shook his head, refusing to say another word.

Eduardo, however, spoke before he could.

"Miss Lombardi!" His voice thundered through the warehouse. "There’s no need for him to repeat anything! I’ve heard everything myself!"

He jabbed an accusing finger at her.

"How dare you force my son to spill out such nonsense in the middle of the competition? Right here, inside my compound?!"

Aren frowned.

She didn’t like being accused of something she hadn’t actually done.

"But it wasn’t nonsense," she replied calmly. "It was the truth."

Eduardo stepped closer to the ring and fixed her with a hard stare.

"Then do you have any evidence?" He raised a challenging brow. "I won’t allow accusations like this to be thrown around without proof — not under my watch."

Before Aren could answer, the massive warehouse doors suddenly swung open. They slammed against the walls on either side with a deafening crash.

BANG—WHAM!

A young male voice rang through the warehouse, immediately recognizable to everyone present.

"We have no exact evidence, Father! But we have people who can testify!"