An Understated Dominance by Marina Vittori

“Grand Sorceress, these... These treasures are far too valuable. | don’t think | can accept them.” Azalea was

taken aback when she looked at the dazzling array of treasures before her.

When Abigail had previously given her the Elysian Amulet and Gerandium, it had already stirred up some

dissent. If she accepted these as well, she would undoubtedly becthe target of envy and resentment among

the Mystic Arts Order disciples.

“Valuable? | earned all these from the betting pool that | set up. I didn’t spend a dime. Just take them, and don’t

worry about it. If anyone dares to gossip, I'll tear their mouths apart,” Abigail said as she looked around.

The nearby Mystic Arts Order members were startled and quickly averted their eyes. They pretended not to

notice anything.

They knew very well what Abigail was capable of. Ever since she becthe Grand Sorceress, the first thing she

did was clean house within the Mystic Arts Order. She dealt with dissenting voices swiftly and brutally.

Anyone, from elders to disciples, who opposed her was either imprisoned or killed. During that time, fear spread

throughout the Mystic Arts Order.

Following her reforms, they were amazed to find that the order not only survived but seemed revitalized. It

attracted many talented disciples and becmore unified and stronger than ever.

Only later did they realize those Abigail had removed were parasites within the Mystic Arts Order. These

individuals had hoarded power and resources for personal gain, with no concern for the guild's development.

Sof them even controlled the basic paths of advancement for disciples. As a result, those without

connections found it nearly impossible to access resources or climb the rank in the guild.

When Abigail took over, everything changed. Though her methods were iron-fisted and merciless, she was fair

and just. As a result, she gained all the disciples’ respect.

Within the Mystic Arts Order, her word was law, and no one dared to oppose her. Anyone who did would drop

dead.

“This...” Azalea hesitated.

Abigail had always treated Azalea well and given her the best of everything. Although Azalea didn’t mind facing

resentment, she was concerned about Abigail. As the Grand Sorceress, Abigail's favoritism could draw criticism

from the disciples.

“Okay. Stop refusing my offer. If you're worried, think of these treasures as a loan. You can return them after you

win the match.” Seeing Azalea’s reluctance, Abigail tried a different approach.

Although she couldn't give them directly, she felt it was natural to reward Azalea with those treasures if she won

the match.

“Fine. I'll borrow them for now.” Since Abigail had put it that way, Azalea couldn't refuse. If it was just a loan, she

felt less burdened.

After the second match ended, the third match began shortly after.

Oron stepped onto the battle ring and announced, “We're starting the third match. Contestants number three

and 30, please cforward to the ring.”

As soon as he finished speaking, a figure leaped from the crowd. He performed several flips in the air and landed

in the ring. It was Jermaine, wearing a hat and a long sword strapped on his back.

As the chief senior disciple of the Soultech Union, he was well-known in the martial world. His entrance onto the

stage was greeted with cheers from the crowd.

“Giant! Cup here and face your doom!” Jermaine shouted confidently. He pointed at George, who stood

below the ring. His voice was filled with fierce determination.

The two had shown each other their number balls, so they knew who their opponents were.

George's earlier throat-slashing taunt gesture had annoyed Jermaine. Now, he was eager to crush him with

overwhelming force in the ring.

A low, rumbling laugh filled the venue.

Standing over six feet six inches tall with an exceptionally muscular build, George walked menacingly toward the

battle ring. As a battle fanatic, he had been waiting for this moment to unleash his full power.

“Martial artist from Dragonmarsh, meetingis the greatest misfortune of your life. Soon, you will understand

what hell is!” he declared.

His shoulders moved slightly as he stepped into the ring. His muscles bulged like black obsidian and gleamed

strangely under the sunlight.

“Hmph! Who are you trying to scare? Just because you're bigger doesn’t mean I'm afraid of you.” Jermaine kept

a cold, fearless expression. He had dealt with at least eight or ten big guys before, and many had died at his

hands.

Although George’s muscles looked intimidating, they only meant he had great strength. However, this cat

the cost of speed and agility. Strength alone wasn’t enough. With his skills, Jermaine could easily outmaneuver

him.

“Very well. | hope you still have this much courage when I'm standing over you later.” George sneered as if he

was looking at a dead man.

“Stop talking! If you have the guts, cat me!” Jermaine shouted and pulled out his long sword with fierce

determination.

George didn’t move immediately. Instead, he glanced at Oron. He hadn't forgotten what had happened to Bill

earlier. Until the match officially began, he didn’t want to give anyone a chance to catch him off guard.

“Are both contestants ready?” Oron asked, looking at them both. Once they nodded, he announced loudly,

“Good. The third match officially begins!”

As soon as Oron finished speaking, Jermaine sprang into action.

“Go to hell!” He pushed off the ground with powerful strides and lunged forward like a tiger. His long sword left a

blur of motion as he swung it sharply toward George's neck.

He thought, “What good are those muscles? I'll cut you down with one clean stroke!”