Divine Beast Ascension

Chapter 216

Chapter 216: Third Lottery

“TRANTOR!”

Freele called off her essence but it was too late. She ran toward her man as he was tossed off the stage by the tornado of wind and life essence. By the time she had reached him, Trantor had already crashed into the ground and was smiling softly.

“What is this?! Did we just witness another upset?!” cried the announcer.

But Freele wasn’t paying that man any attention. She kneeled beside her fallen lover, gripping his hand and laying his head on her lap. “What did you do that for?!”

Chuckling lightly and unfazed by the many cuts he’d received from her attack, Trantor looked up to her. “Remember... I promised to never hurt you. I’m just keeping my promise.”

“Idiot...” Freele felt conflicted. Part of her wanted to slap Trantor atop the head while she also wanted to hold him closer. Medics were already on the scene to give him aid but Freele waved them off. White energy surrounded her and then Trantor, seeping into his many grazing wounds. “Never do that again.”

“Freele...”

.....

“Never!” she repeated. “From this point on, I promise to never hurt you in any way. Will you make me go back on my word?”

“... Okay. I’ll never do that again,” Trantor caved, agreeing to her demand, allowing her to be just as selfish as he was by surrendering the fight without a word.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear for this amazing couple!” Claps sounded out as the announcer took the lead again, looking down at the stressed yet relaxed lovers. “Freele may have won the match, but some would argue that Trantor was the true victor today!”

Trantor laughed at the comment but was promptly slapped in the shoulder by Freele.

“Despite the unexpected turn of events, the second round is officially over. And it’s now time for the third lottery. Please, Young Master Freele, come forward and draw your lot as soon as your man has recovered.”

As she finished her part of healing Trantor and allowed the medics to apply salves as the finishing touch, Freele coughed and looked away from her defeated lover. “I can’t believe you did this...”

“Too late to change that now...” replied Trantor.

Freele shook her head and made her way up the stairs. Reaching into the bag, she pulled out the first stick.

“Number 1! After having the last match of each round, we’ll no longer be left waiting in suspense now that our remaining top seed will be in the first match! But who will be her opponent? Let’s find out!”

Fulkar was next, pulling the stick and then clicking his tongue in disappointment upon seeing the number.

“Oh, number 3!” shouted the announcer. “It seems we’ll be getting back-to-back thrillers as Young Master Fulkar will be in our second fight!”

“You’re lucky. Had we been paired up, I’m not so soft as to give you a free pass...” Fulkar softly stated, passing Freele as he hopped off the stage.

“There we have it! We have our first official pairing! And are we in for a treat!” Catching the other contestants off guard, they all looked back to the ref who was holding the fifth seed’s lottery pick. “It’s number 4, pitting our fourth and fifth seeds in a long-awaited grudge match to see who will reach the semifinals!”

“What’s wrong, Fulkar? Worried you won’t get off easy this round?” taunted the fifth seed. “I don’t mind goofing off at the start in order to give you a proper chance.”

“Can it, Rowan. You and your formations are too slow to keep up with me,” responded Fulkar.

“I guess we’ll see whether that’s true or not very soon...” Shrugging, the fifth seed descended the stairs and allowed the next entrant to step up.

Next was the tenth seed, who confidently drew number 8, placing him in the final fight with someone outside of the top ten. After that was the fifteenth seed, the contestant everyone was least excited for by this point. And his luck had run out, drawing number two and placing him against Freele in the first match of the third round.

“With only three spots left and two fights pairings undecided, tension is high. It’s Oliver’s turn to draw and he’ll either be facing the startlingly misplaced tenth seed or one of the other dark horses. Which will it be... Number 5!”

Not truly caring who his opponent would be, Oli accepted the open slot without much worry. He patiently stepped away and let the next entrant decide the final two pairings.

As the masked man came up, he bowed respectfully to Oli before ascending the stairs. The poise and respect he shared were earning plenty of praise from the crowd, as well as the noble families. It was a rare trait to have among those who supposedly have no backer. But his draw set the crowd ablaze.

“Number 6!” declared the announcer. “There we have it! Our masked contestant will be facing off with the mysterious Oliver and our powerful tenth seed will be facing–”

“Number 7! I get to face him!” Burt cheered, pulling the last stick and revealing his well-known placement to all. “Bring it, okay?”

“Same goes to you,” the tenth seed replied, smiling in approval of his next opponent.

“With altered odds, it’s time we waited for our combatants to regain some strength while we place our bets! No matter the fight, each battle will be a sight to behold!”

Bookies returned to scout their assigned sections for bets. It was a sign that put a smile on Reginol’s face but it was unexpectedly short-lived. “Hurman? Where are you–”

“I’m visiting my entrant, as the rules allow. That is all.”

With a straight, unreadable face, Hurman got up and walked past the female bookie nearing their seats. Hurman quickly vanished within the crowd as Reginol proceeded to bet on Oliver, Freele, Burttin, and Fulkar.

Jonon, Keldon, and the others of the Practor Family were confused by Hurman’s sudden disappearance but said nothing. Knowing him well, they assumed he had some insight to share with Oliver, especially Jonon and Keldon who understood the bet the Oli had placed on himself via Hurman.