Proving Himself

Doom turned toward the sound. A warrior wearing dark green power armor and a pure-black cloak with gold-trimmed edges draped over his back walked in from the edge of the arena. He was powerfully built, nearly three meters tall, and incredibly imposing.

Walking beside him was Queen Daisy. She wore a court gown, her hands folded over her abdomen. Graceful and dignified, she looked at Doom with a meaningful smile.

Doom naturally recognized that tall warrior.

The most authoritative person on the planet, its bravest warrior, its wisest king—and also his father, King Norwick!

At that moment, the Night Watchers knelt while the scholars bowed their heads to welcome their king.

Doom, however, grew somewhat stiff, his body rigid with tension.

He had once imagined meeting his father on Triumphal Avenue, where he would spread his arms and welcome his father's triumphant return.

The current situation was terrible. He was like a naughty child caught doing something wrong, so nervous that he didn't know where to put his hands.

"Answer me, Doom!"

King Norwick strode over and waved for everyone to rise. Looking down at his son, whose height barely reached his leg, he asked, "If I give you a chance, can you prove yourself?"

Doom raised his head to look up at his father. That expressionless face was filled with authority, and his towering body exerted an astonishing pressure. No one dared lie in front of him.

"I'll prove that what I said contained no exaggeration or falsehood."

The boy's confidence now overwhelmed his nervousness. Relaxed and clear-voiced, he raised his chin and proudly told his father, "Your son has no use for false boasting!"

"With only one punch and one kick?"

"With only one punch and one kick!"

"Good!" Norwick nodded in satisfaction. His gaze left Doom and swept over the Night Watchers and the beast trapped in the cage. With a low roar, he ordered, "Clear the arena! Let's see what the Son of Heaven's Descent is capable of!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Night Watchers quickly cleared the area. The cages were dragged away, the audience took their seats, and everyone prepared to enjoy a duel the likes of which they had never seen before.

"Prepare yourself. The Ork won't stop. You have only victory or death."

"The duel rules: deathmatch!" After saying this, King Norwick offered one last reminder before turning and heading toward the audience stands.

A deathmatch! The Night Watchers had not seen one in nearly a thousand years.

A deathmatch was unrestricted slaughter. Both fighters gave everything they had and used every means at their disposal to kill the other.

"Doom." Harlan's expression was complicated. He was thoughtful by nature and felt partly responsible for how things had developed.

Sending a child into the dueling arena left him somewhat uneasy. He offered a friendly warning: "Be careful!"

"I'll use my strength to shatter your contempt!"

Doom pulled his silk robe down to his waist and tied it there, revealing his lean, muscular upper body. Every muscle was clearly defined. "When that happens, you'll have to apologize to me for looking down on me."

Seeing how serious he was, Harlan laughed freely. "All right. If you win, I'll apologize to you."

He stood straight, wiped away his smile, and said sincerely, "I'll apologize for looking down on you."

"How about adding a little wager?" King Norwick's voice rang out. He sat at the edge of the arena and had heard their conversation.

"What wager?" the two asked in unison.

King Norwick said to Harlan, "If Doom survives, you will become his personal guard."

"If he fails and dies, your personal swordsmanship may be added to the royal family's collection as a reward for taking part."

"I agree!" Harlan accepted without hesitation. Such a wager was an enormous reward, and he had nothing to lose either way.

There were countless skilled swordsmen in the Guardian Domain. Only the swordsmanship of a very few true masters was recorded by the royal family and passed down as a reference for its traditional techniques.

Harlan had once submitted an application to the royal family, but it had been rejected by the Grand Swordmaster Xilan. His swordsmanship was too savage and aggressive, making it difficult to integrate with the royal family's balanced and benevolent style.

This unexpected opportunity was nothing short of a gift from heaven for Harlan.

"I agree too!"

Doom accepted without hesitation. Although defeating an Ork would not be easy, taking the Champion Swordsman as his guard would undoubtedly be a tremendous honor.

And so, neither side felt they were losing out.

Harlan walked to the iron cage. The imprisoned Orks craned their necks in anticipation, having completely shed their earlier ridiculousness. Every one of them was full of spirit.

Greenskin Orks were simply born that way. They never cared about anything else; their minds were filled with nothing but fighting.

"Choose me! I'm the toughest!"

"Hey, big guy, are you blind? Choose me!"

The Orks gripped the iron bars and roared, opening their mouths to display their large teeth and prove how powerful they were.

"I'll choose that one!"

Just as Harlan hesitated over whether to choose an ordinary Greenskin Boy, Doom walked to the cage and pointed at the largest Special Ops Boy. "It's the strongest. Defeating it will make my victory more valuable!"

"Are you sure?"

Harlan's thick brows drew together. The scar on his handsome face stretched, making him look especially fierce, but his eyes held a trace of persuasion, signaling Doom to know his limits.

"Certain!"

His clear voice was decisive, leaving no room for doubt. The youthful authority in it made Harlan lose focus for a moment.

"Big guy! Open the cage! I can't wait any longer!"

The leather-clad Special Ops Boy in the cage gnashed its teeth and shook the iron bars with both hands. Its blood-red eyes revealed viciousness as it glared fixedly at Doom.

"Damn human brat! I'll tear off your limbs and rip you apart! I'll chew your bones to pieces bit by bit, leaving that yapper of a mouth intact to see how tough it is."

"Beast." Harlan opened the iron cage and released the impatient Ork. He issued a stern warning: "This is the Warrior Arena. You should feel honored."

"Don't make any unnecessary moves before I call the start. You know how formidable we are."

The Special Ops Boy naturally knew how formidable the Night Watchers were. With a sinister grin, it walked toward its position in the arena, muttering as it went, "On human territory, we respect the human way of fighting!"

"You're not worried at all?" Queen Daisy lowered her voice as much as possible to keep Doom from hearing.

She knew her son very well. With his keen senses, outstanding athletic ability, and considerable strength, he would not be in danger against an Ork.

"I'm not worried."

"Where does your confidence come from?"

Norwick recalled the siege beneath the city three months ago, the moment he had picked Doom up, and the hair-raising chill that had run through him. "The first time I held him."

At the center of the arena, two fighters of vastly different sizes faced each other, waiting for the signal to begin.

The Special Ops Boy was enormous. Though only two meters thirty tall, it was heavily built, with grass-green skin, a savage face, and muscles knotted across its body, veins bulging visibly.

Doom's robe was tied around his waist, leaving his powerful upper body bare. The most striking feature was the runic mark on his chest.

The two stood ten meters apart. Doom could even sense the Ork's agitation and see the breath spraying from its nostrils in its excessive excitement.

"When the helmet hits the ground, you may slaughter each other as you please."

After speaking, Harlan gave Doom a deep look, then tossed the helmet into the air.

At that moment, everyone held their breath. No one dared make an unnecessary sound that might affect the two Duelists' judgment.

Even the Orks in the cages, who had been roaring and shouting without pause, fell silent. They widened their blood-red eyes and waited excitedly for the Special Ops Boy to tear the human boy apart.

Harlan was just as tense. His tiger-like eyes remained locked on the center of the arena as he considered whether he should rescue the boy if the situation turned bad.

Bang!

The crisp sound of the helmet striking the ground rang through the arena, reaching the ears of the spectators and the fighters alike.

"Roar-ho-ho!" The Special Ops Boy grinned viciously. Its lower limbs moved in rapid alternation as it broke into a fast stride and charged toward Doom.

It rushed at the motionless human boy who looked completely terrified and arrogantly self-assured, already imagining how it would tear him apart!

The Ork moved quickly. Its short-distance burst speed was astonishing. In only 0.56 seconds, it had closed to within two meters of Doom.

Yet Doom still did not move, as though he really had been scared witless.

The Night Watchers grew anxious too! Their bloodlines and genes inherited from the Golden Age gave them terrifyingly fast reactions.

In their eyes, the Ork's movements were like slow motion. Though slow, it continued inching closer to Doom!

Harlan narrowed his eyes and prepared to throw his spear to carry out a rescue, but suddenly felt a sharp gaze turn toward him.

He no longer dared move. King Norwick would not allow anyone to disrupt the rules of the duel.

Doom was still standing there, without a trace of fear on his face. He looked completely calm and unhurried.