Chapter 441: Security Concerns
(3 days before the fight, Planet Tithia, Central Arena Barracks, Outer Sector Security Briefing Room)
The briefing room was silent, thick with tension and purpose.
Fifty elite soldiers sat upright on lined metal benches, their bodies still, their expressions focused, each one dressed in pitch-black compression armor that clung to them like a second skin.
The red emblem of the Cult stood proudly over their left pectoral, gleaming faintly beneath the room’s overhead white lights like a mark of unwavering allegiance.
They were not ordinary guards.
They were a specialist division, personally handpicked by the First Elder for their reputation as the most dependable and battle-hardened security force the Cult had to offer. Every man in that room had earned his place through fire and blood.
And today, they had been entrusted with the most sacred assignment of their lives : To protect the Dragon Candidates during the upcoming mega fight.
At the front of the room, Commander Kavan stood still, eyes scanning the crowd, arms clasped behind his back as his voice echoed out with lethal calm.
"This is not a festival. This is not a parade. And this sure as hell isn’t a match for YOUR entertainment."
He let the words settle before continuing, his gaze sharpening.
"This is a once-in-a-generation coronation. The next Dragon will be crowned. The future of our people shall be decided. And whether that future walks out alive or dies before he even gets to speak a word..... depends on us."
Murmurs ceased. Spines straightened.
"The righteous clans are desperate to kill the Dragon Candidates.
You best believe they’re up to no good, because if we can infiltrate the Sky-God Arena with our limited resources, then they can absolutely infiltrate ours.
They might plan to infiltrate the fan pits, hiding poison darts or flesh-eating smoke bombs beneath their sleeves.
But we’ve studied their tactics. Which means we must assume they’ll try something new.
Assume they’re already inside. Assume at least one person in that crowd is ready to die if it means ending a Dragon Candidate before the fight even begins."
He stepped forward, voice rising, fists clenched tight.
"So how do we ensure the security of the Dragon Candidates under these circumstances?
We do it by being thorough.
Our duty doesn’t begin on the day of the tournament. It begins now.
We start patrolling the arena today. We begin searching for planted bombs or hidden mechanisms today. We sweep the entire structure again and again, every few hours, and we keep sweeping until twenty minutes before the match begins."
He drew a short breath and pointed to the schematic that lit up on the screen behind him.
"To protect the Dragon Candidates from physical attacks, the First Elder has authorized the deployment of a transparent mana barrier at the edge of the spectator zone.
This barrier will block all physical projectiles, prevent spiritual and mental spells from leaking into the arena, and also stop the crowd from rushing the stage if their emotions get out of hand.
It’s state-of-the-art tech, far beyond what the righteous faction can produce. But even so, we operate under the assumption that all barriers can break."
He tapped his boot once, locking eyes with the twelve soldiers seated at the front.
"If the barrier fails, then it’s you twelve who instantly move to shield the Dragon Candidates.
You don’t look back. You don’t hesitate.
You become a human shield. You bleed if you must. You die if you must. But no one reaches the Dragon Candidates. Not a single person. Not a single attack."
A heavy silence returned.
"As for the rest of you, your duty is crowd control.
Your back stays to the arena. Your eyes stay locked on the crowd. You flag any suspicious movement. You relay intel to the local patrol teams moving in the stands and you act fast when something looks off.
I don’t care how historic this match is or how badly you want to see it unfold. You do not turn around. Not even for a moment.
You do not let your curiosity endanger the Dragon Candidates."
His voice lowered, cold and sharp.
"If I catch even one of you looking over your shoulder, I’ll carve your eyes out myself."
No one moved. No one breathed.
Kavan’s expression softened, just a little.
"I’ll be honest with you. If even a scratch lands on a Dragon Candidate while I’m on duty, I’ll slit my own throat on the spot. Right there. In front of the crowd.
Because I won’t deserve this uniform anymore."
His eyes swept across the room, locking with each man’s gaze one by one.
"So unless you’re looking forward to attending my funeral next week, I suggest you do your damn jobs. Understand?"
One by one, soldiers stood.
Boots slammed into steel in perfect synchrony.
Right fists struck chestplates as voices rang out in unison, like a vow carved in iron.
"FOR THE DRAGON CANDIDATES."
"FOR THE CULT."
"FOR OUR FUTURE."
The tension in the air thickened, molten and unyielding.
No tears were shed, but the weight of duty made hardened men swallow twice, their eyes full of silent fire.
No one would harm the Dragon Candidates.
Not on their watch.
—-------
(Meanwhile, in an underground interrogation cell, Planet Tithia)
The air was stale and humid inside the holding cell, where a righteous faction agent had been brought after he had been captured trying to sneak into the Lewis Hamilton Arena.
He was caught with lots of explosives in his possession, and was hence beaten without mercy before being dragged to this interrogation cell, where he was tied to an iron chair, wrists and ankles bound with spiked cuffs that had long since torn through his flesh.
His robe was half burned, half shredded, exposing a lean, muscular torso covered in lash marks, cigarette burns, and dripping red grooves that oozed slowly with every breath he took.
His head hung low, not out of weakness, but with the calculation and pride of a man who felt no fear even while being abused to death.
Standing before him was a senior cult interrogator, sleeves rolled, chestplate smeared with old blood, knuckles cracked and discolored from repeated contact.
"Name. Rank. Mission objective," the interrogator repeated flatly, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his wrist.
The spy coughed hard.
Then again, spat a fresh batch of blood across the floor before raising his head and giving the interrogator a smug smile.
A smile that showed that he still had all his teeth left intact.
"You won’t get a word out of me," he said, voice hoarse but steady. "You caught nothing but a useless pebble, I’m nothing compared to the better agents we have out here. That arena is going to blow up, regardless of me succeeding or not."
The interrogator’s brow twitched. "Answer the damn question! I don’t need your stupid predictions. I need your name, rank and mission objective!"
The spy chuckled.
"I was to place a spirit-reactive bomb beneath the arena’s west pillar. Detonate it during the match... causing a cave-in.
I was supposed to collapse the arena roof onto the heads of the thousands of idiots in attendance, then laugh while they screamed in agony..... hahahaha."
*SLAM*
"SILENCE!" The interrogator demanded, as he slammed his hands on the table.
"Who else helped you?" he asked, however, his question was only met with silence, as the suspect refused to co-operate.
*Punch*
The interrogator punched him again, as this time, a tooth finally flew.
The spy spit the rest out and chuckled again, breathing through the pain.
"You think we haven’t been infiltrating your ranks over the years too? You really think that only you cult bastards can plant spies in our ranks?
During the last few peaceful years, you relaxed your security too much, promoted unworthy officials too fast. Let your walls rot. Now we have many contacts on the inside."
He leaned forward, as much as the cuffs allowed, voice suddenly colder.
"Our contacts on the inside..... They’ve trained with your men, eaten with your men... and when the moment comes, they’ll stab your Dragons from the inside out."
The interrogator said nothing.
His fists relaxed. Then clenched again.
"You’ll burn to ashes in the incinerator thirty minutes from now. I’m going to offer you no mercy.... You’re going to burn to death in the most painful way possible." he muttered, turning away.
But the spy’s voice followed him.
"Then I die with pride, having done my part in ridding the universe of the cancer that is the Evil Cult.
Because while you will be busy digging through the dirt for rats... the wolves that are my comrades will already be at your throat."