Chapter 1515: Cooked up Chaos II

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s special event at the Valkyrium Arena!"

The announcer shot onto the stage in a blinding flash of light, his every exaggerated gesture cutting through the smoky air like lightning. His suit, stitched with thin threads of luminous netting, glinted in time with the roar of the crowd. He spread his arms wide, savoring the spectacle, his voice booming with theatrical bravado.

"Tonight, we present to you two of the most powerful beasts, ferocious, fearsome, deadly!"

The arena lights dimmed, then flared again in brilliant shafts of blue and gold. A hush fell, followed by a collective gasp, as all attention was dragged toward the pit below. The shadows rolled back like curtains.

"Let us welcome the clash of two kings: the Orc King and the ruler of the sky, the Royal Wyvern!"

The crowd cheered, bets were announced almost instantly, and everyone placed their bets on tablets at their respective tables, while several people called out urgently. The adrenaline in the room surged, filling the room with excitement and impatience. ℯ

Far above the chaos, tucked behind tinted glass and velvet curtains, Clift and Samuel lounged in one of the private observation boxes reserved for the elite.

The plush seats and the steady supply of expensive wine made a pleasant disguise to their real purpose. A spy’s duty often wore the face of leisure.

Clift leaned back, swirling his glass, eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever. Samuel pretended to be entertained, though he’d barely broken his focus from the arena, glancing instead at the reflection in the glass, watching not the beasts, but the entrances behind them.

A faint click sounded at the door. The two men exchanged a knowing glance; they remained calm, barely a shift of an eyebrow. Their postures softened into casual ease, as though nothing were amiss, and then the door softly opened. ℴ𝒗ⅇ𝑙.

"Sorry, I took too long." Igor slipped inside, cautious as a fox testing a new den. His dark coat felt heavy with the scent of smoke and expensive perfume.

"You’re finally here!" Samuel greeted, lifting his glass with exaggerated cheer, lips pulled into a wide, knowing grin.

Igor exhaled through his nose, amused rather than warmed. Without waiting for an invitation, he dropped into the nearest seat and reached for the decanter.

"Of course. Do you think I’d make a bet on a fight like this without you two vultures?" He poured himself a generous portion, the rim of the glass catching the violet glow of the arena lights, then he took a long sip.

Samuel tilted his head. "Where’s your guardian dog? The one who trails after you like a shadow?" His tone was casual, but the barb was deliberate.

Clift didn’t blink; he kept staring at his phone and pretended not to be interested in their conversation.

Igor snorted, rolling his eyes. "Sean?" He said the name dismissively. "I don’t know. That jerk’s been gone for a week." He flicked his wrist dismissively, as if the matter didn’t matter to him. "But really? It’s a good thing for us. Because if he’d been assigned to guard me, I wouldn’t have been able to sneak into your box unnoticed."

"It must be our lucky day," Samuel smirked and lifted his glass again, savoring the wine like victory.

Outside, the arena trembled. The Orc King bellowed, let out a thunderous roar that rattled even the reinforced glass. Dust spiraled through the air as the Royal Wyvern’s wings beat against the steel enclosure. The noise swallowed the stadium, turning it into one frenetic pulse.

Igor had his tablet on his lap, his hands trembled as he calculated in his head whether to raise the bet or not.

"I’ve already bet on Wyveyn, don’t worry, we won’t lose," Samuel said confidently.

Igor grinned broadly. "I’m counting on you, so should I raise my bet?" he asked eagerly.

Samuel shrugged and then smiled knowingly, "Why not? Gambling without risk wouldn’t be any fun."

"You’re right!" Igor immediately raised his bet to one million Rohm.

Seeing his bet so engrossed in gambling, Samuel asked casually, "By the way, what’s up with the guards today? Are they really that incompetent that they didn’t notice you leaving?"

Igor chuckled softly, his eyes glued to the scene below. "No, they’re not that bad," he admitted, then sneered. "But not as careful and sharp as Sean. I only need to pay the waiter to make a commotion outside my box to distract them for five seconds, and that’s enough time for me to sneak into your box without them noticing. They’ll probably let their guard down, thinking that all the exits in this building are already guarded by their men. So they were sure, nothing could happen...and they are not wrong," Igor chuckles.

"That’s good," Samuel muttered, taking a measured sip of wine.

Beside him, Clift’s fingers danced across his phone screen, expression never shifting. ’We got Igor’, he typed, sending the message without so much as a blink.

On the other side of the arena, the atmosphere was less glamorous and far more chaotic.

Lory and Zhao Li Xin were in the employee locker room, now wearing their ’borrowed’ security uniforms. Blinding fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering softly whenever a battle broke out outside. The air smelled of sweat, detergent, and metal dust. Meanwhile, two naked men lay pitifully on the cold floor, unconscious.

They were the two unfortunate staff members Lory and Zhao Li Xin had accidentally encountered moments earlier. Expressionless, Zhao Li Xin grabbed the two men’s arms and dragged them like sacks of potatoes toward the equipment storage closet.

At the same time, Lory’s phone vibrated softly. She glanced at it briefly and then typed a text message to Clift: ’I’m going to the basement now.’

After shoving the two unfortunate men into the closet, Zhao Li Xin locked it with a loud click. Then, she reached for the hat tucked into her uniform, dusted it off, and put it on.

"Are you ready?" Lory’s voice echoed softly against the concrete walls as she turned to Zhao Li Xin.

He stooped, retrieving the hat that lay on the floor. With a slow sweep of his hand, he brushed away the dust, then placed one on Lory’s head with a gentle, almost cautious move.

"I’m ready," Zhao Li Xin looked at Lory with a satisfied look, his voice came out calm and steady, as though the chaos around them didn’t exist.

Lory inhaled deeply. "Let’s do it quickly."

Zhao Li Xin’s eyes narrowed in amusement. "You said the same thing when we were in Cestine Palace," he gave her a teasing yet seductive look before speaking again in a low, sexy tone. "But it always ends up the other way around."

"Honey..." Lory hissed, her cheeks flushing pink. Her gaze was reproachful, more embarrassed than threatening.

Before she could recover, static buzzed in her ear.

"You know I can hear you both, right?" Jay’s voice cut in, dry and unamused.

Lory froze mid-step. She had absolutely forgotten Jay existed. Clearing her throat, she straightened her spine, forcing professionalism back into her voice. "Give me a safe route, Jay."

Zhao Li Xin chuckled softly. Unlike Lory, he didn’t mind if anyone heard his ambiguous words. After all, he was talking to his wife, not some random girl. If that were the case, then that would be inappropriate.

Jay sighed, then started leading Lory in the direction they intended to be. He hacked the CCTV camera and bypassed the security door and lock.

Lory and Zhao Li Xin descended quietly, each step bringing them deeper underground. The lights shifted, bright arena glow fading into flickering amber. The hum of distant machines turned into raw, guttural roars. Metal cages rattled. Chains clanked. Something snarled just out of sight.

The lower grounds felt alive and loud, also a strong stench that hit her right away the moment she arrived. The smell of blood, sweat, and beast excrement mingled in a nauseating haze. The air itself seemed to cling to her skin.

Soldiers in heavy armor braced themselves against trembling cage bars, while hunters barked orders, prodding wild silhouettes that moved like shadows behind steel.

Lory wrinkled her nose. "Ugh... this place is disgusting," Lory whispered in disgust.

Luckily, because of the foul smell, nearly everyone there had a mask on their face. Lory then found a mask hanging on the wall; thus, she yanked two masks, then gave one to Zhao Li Xin, "Hold on, sweetheart." After that, she put on the mask; only then could she breathe easily again.

After Zhao Li Xin put on the mask, he was amazed at how it completely blocked out the pungent odor. It was such a great tool, he found another one for inspiration to make another tool like this.

Unfortunately, the mask was unable to filter out the blood, dirt, and filth inside the beast cage. "Let’s make it quick, this time it’s the real thing," he muttered, as he saw one of the beasts take a dump.

Lory swept her gaze over the chaos of clashing metal, flickering holo-screens, and roaring spectators, searching for the perfect place. Then she saw a cluster of steel pillars bracing the arena’s colossal frame.

’Perfect’, Lory’s eyes sparked with excitement. She flicked a quick hand signal to Zhao Li Xin, and together they melted into the shadows, slipping into the narrow dead zone behind the pillars.

Behind her, Zhao Li Xin stood guard, posture relaxed but eyes sharp as blades. Lory knelt and worked with swift, precise movements. One bomb clicked into place, then another. From pillar to pillar she moved, swiftly, until the last device nestled snugly against its target.

"Jay, all set," she whispered into her earpiece.

From far away, Jay watched through the hacked arena cameras—his fingers flying over the controls.

"Good. You’ve got three minutes. Move."

"Roger that." Lory rose and exchanged a glance with Zhao Li Xin. Without breaking stride, they slipped back into the crowd of security and employee, taking long strides to the stairs; their movement was fast but not running—not yet.

On Jay’s end, a single coded message flashed to Clift: ’Cupcake delivered. Time to go’.

The arena’s thunderous noise swallowed everything else. The two colossal beasts in the pit clashed with bone-shaking force, and the audience was too enthralled to notice anything else. Igor was no exception, his greedy eyes glued to the spectacle, oblivious to Samuel and Clift’s suspicious shift in posture.

Clift gave a nod, then Samuel rose from the chair. He got behind Igor’s chair. Then, with one swift strike to the back of the head, quick and efficient, in an instant, Igor slumped forward, looking merely like a man who had dozed off mid-match.

Clift rose from the chair while watching the watch on his wrist. Then...came the explosion.