Chapter 17: Damn, Coming Again?
In a simple private room on the third floor, a pair of sharp, astute eyes kept shifting their gaze over Cohen. The owner of those eyes was a well-to-do middle-aged businessman. If Cohen were here, he would surely recognize him as the scroll merchant previously responsible for the Pale Wing's covert operations.
After observing for a long while, he finally confirmed certain things. From his pocket, he took out a magical communication stone and reported the situation inside the arena in detail to Mr. Modo at the other end.
Upon receiving the message, Mr. Modo immediately dropped everything and secretly arrived at a small villa in the wealthy district of Florence.
Isabella listened to the report, her brows lifting slightly, her eyes glimmering with interest. Her exquisite face revealed a keen curiosity.
“‘Shadow Lord’? Quite a dramatic title. Hmm, is he a first-tier? Just broke through?”
Mr. Modo replied, “The testing pillars in the arena rarely err. It seems your intuition is correct, Miss. He wasn’t extraordinary before; he must have just broken through in the last couple of days.”
“Just breaking through and already effortlessly dispatching a wanderer and a seasoned barbarian? That’s surprising. Can’t you tell his supernormal profession?”
“He barely made any moves. Both wins were rather inexplicable. No wonder so many on-site doubted him.”
Isabella’s lips curled into a smile, then asked, “What do Raymond and the others say?”
Raymond was the head of the Florence branch of the Supernormal Arena, the discreet middle-aged man beside the host.
“No word from them yet... Oh? Here it is.”
The communication stone trembled slightly as the scroll merchant sent the latest update:
“Raymond declared that he did not violate any rules, and the matches will continue. But there’s news: this mysterious ‘Shadow Lord’ registered for ten matches, meaning he still has eight more to fight!”
Isabella’s eyes, like two clear springs, instantly brightened, and her smile deepened.
“Make arrangements. I want to go to the arena!”
...
Experience: 10/300.
Cohen returned to the stands, his expression calm and relaxed beneath the silver mask. The noisy chatter around him was merely inconsequential background noise, unable to disturb his inner peace.
Most spectators had lost interest in the ongoing match. Since Raymond revealed Cohen still had eight matches left, nearly everyone was now eagerly anticipating his next appearance.
They wanted to see when this kid would finally reveal his true colors!
As expected, the giant screen soon displayed the four characters “Shadow Lord” once again.
After five more matches, facing an obviously manipulated sequence of opponents, Cohen was not surprised. His bewildering performance in the first two matches had stirred suspicion; the arena officials simply wanted to ascertain his true strength.
Hopefully, this time he would feel a bit of pressure.
---
Raymond noticed the name on the screen and glanced back at the host, displeased.
“How did you arrange this woman?”
The host wiped his sweat and answered, “There were complaints on the first two floors — they want a truly formidable opponent to test this kid’s real strength. There weren’t many qualified first-tier fighters present today, so she’s going up first.”
Raymond nodded slightly. “Alright. Tell her to hold back. No fatalities.”
The host hurriedly agreed, “Understood. I’ll remind her shortly.”
Before long, it was Cohen’s turn to compete again.
This time, nearly all eyes in the stands, including those in the private rooms on the upper floors, were fixed on the mysterious young noble.
Cohen gazed at his third opponent: a woman who drew cheers the moment she stepped into the arena.
She wore a deep, ink-black gown, her face half-hidden behind a black veil, revealing only a pair of bright, star-like eyes, so profound they seemed to absorb all the light around her.
Suddenly, the woman winked at Cohen.
A wave of dizziness washed over Cohen; his body trembled slightly, and a sharp glint flickered in his eyes.
A Mind Sorcerer!
Focusing on soul power, Cohen glanced at the badge on her chest: four red stars, no black stars!
Four consecutive wins—she was indeed a formidable opponent.
The woman in black let out a soft “hmm”—Cohen’s reaction had surprised her.
The host’s voice rang out:
“Alright, everyone is surely looking forward to this match. On one side, the ‘Shadow Lord’ who just entered and claimed two consecutive victories; on the other, a familiar face to all—Ms. Nephthys, known as the ‘Black Enchantress,’ undefeated in four matches! Let’s anticipate this clash born of darkness!”
Thunderous cheers erupted. The mysterious and powerful Nephthys was highly popular, and with Cohen labeled as a “cheater,” he instantly became the villain.
The whistle blew, and the match began!
Nephthys lifted her slender, jade-like fingers and traced gentle arcs in the air, conjuring strange black lights that slowly formed a sinister black rose.
A Night Rose?
Cohen’s expression twisted oddly—so this was her move!
His interest in her identity deepened. The user of this skill, a Mind Sorcerer, was likely from that one family.
The “Night Rose”—an ancient sorcerer family destroyed jointly by the Five Great Empires due to irreversible consequences from researching forbidden spells!
Click, click. With such a pure Night Rose aura, she must be a direct descendant.
An idea sparked in Cohen’s mind. Mind Sorcerers were the coveted partners of every player in his past life’s game.
---
Beyond enabling a mental link for swift, direct communication within a team, they could stabilize morale in large-scale battles and reduce desertion—truly the “political commissar” of an army.
One Mind Sorcerer’s role was worth an entire battalion!
With this in mind, Cohen simply refrained from acting and watched the eerie “black rose” fly toward him.
The black rose arrived before him. Cohen caught it, feeling its exotic and enchanting aura. From the base, black threads unfurled, racing up his arm toward his heart.
His breath suddenly quickened, heartbeat drumming like a war drum, as if invisible threads tugged at him, pulling his consciousness toward an abyss.
Impressive. Her willpower was definitely far stronger than his.
Taking a deep breath, Cohen silently intoned:
“Miss Nephthys Robben, I believe you can hear my thoughts. I think we should have a proper conversation.”
Upon hearing the voice, Nephthys’ pupils sharply contracted, her pale face draining of color until it was ghostly white.
Robben!
How did he know her surname?
Nephthys froze like she’d been immobilized by a spell.
Why did he know her real name? Had she been exposed?
Her most closely guarded secret had been uncovered by a stranger. She felt as if her soul had been ripped out, leaving only a shell filled with shock.
“Who... who are you?”
Her voice was surprisingly youthful and melodious. She couldn’t be very old. After all, when a life-threatening secret is revealed, a mature person would probably try to kill the threat immediately. This hesitation showed immaturity.
Cohen responded gently in his mind:
“Don’t worry, Miss Robben. I bear no ill will toward the ‘Night Rose.’ On the contrary, I can offer you some assistance—such as the whereabouts of the ‘Black Rose Key.’”
At the mention of those words, Nephthys’ eyes sparkled like stars suddenly bursting in the night sky, her joy uncontrollable. She waved her hand and retracted the rose.
Then, her clear voice amplified by the nearby magic projection filled the entire arena:
“I concede!”
Cohen: “...”
The audience: “...”