BTW AFTER THIS CHAPTER THE THIRD SON NAME IS : ARTHUR
As the servant's call reached the ears of the young master, he wasted no time in making his way to the arena. With purposeful strides, he traversed the corridors of the Zulter estate until he reached the grand entrance of the arena, the weight of anticipation heavy upon his shoulders.
As he stepped into the arena, his gaze swept across the assembled crowd, taking in the sight of his family, the executives, and the knights gathered before him. At the center of it all, seated upon a grand throne, was his father—the patriarch of the Zulter family—his expression inscrutable as he regarded his youngest son with a mixture of pride and apprehension.
Surrounding him, the executives stood in silent vigilance, their faces a mask of stoic resolve as they observed the unfolding spectacle. Beside them, the second and eldest sons of the Zulter family stood, their eyes fixed upon their brother with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
As the third son of the Zulter family stood poised in the center of the arena, his father's gaze upon him, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade. The crowd held its breath, anticipation humming in the air like a tautly drawn bowstring.
The arbiter, a solemn figure clad in robes of midnight blue, stepped forward, his voice echoing through the silence. "Are you ready?" he intoned, his words carrying the weight of authority.
The third son's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly intensity as he met the arbiter's gaze. "You can start."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
With a solemn nod, the arbiter gestured for the duel to begin.
But before the orc champion could even make a move, the third son raised his hands, tendrils of crimson energy swirling around his outstretched palms. The crowd gasped in awe and trepidation, murmurs rippling through the assembled nobles.
"What in the name of the heavens is this?" one of the executives exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Impressive," another said, his voice barely above a whisper. "So he was hiding his power ."
his brothers exchanged wary glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.
But their father remained silent, his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon his youngest son, a flicker of pride dancing in their depths.
With a swift, decisive motion, the third son closed his hands into fists, the crimson energy intensifying with a surge of power. The air crackled with anticipation as the energy coalesced around the orc champion, enveloping him in a blinding flash of light.
And then, in an instant, the arena was consumed by a deafening explosion. The shockwave rippled through the air, sending spectators staggering backward in a haze of smoke and debris.
When the dust settled, all that remained was a smoldering crater where the orc had once stood. The crowd erupted into stunned silence, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief at the spectacle they had just witnessed.
With a voice that resonated with the authority of ages past, the third son spoke, his words dripping with disdain as he addressed the fallen orc champion and the stunned spectators.
"How dare a mere orc try to challenge me."
With that final declaration hanging in the air, the third son turned on his heel and strode purposefully from the arena, leaving behind a trail of shocked whispers and murmurs in his wake.
As he exited the arena, his departure was marked by a palpable sense of awe and trepidation, his words echoing in the minds of all who bore witness to his display of power. For in that moment, the third son had asserted his dominance not just over the orc champion, but over the very fabric of Aetherian society itself.