Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)

Redrod Dominic stood as pale as a ghost, his complexion drained of all color. His eyes brimmed with despair, wide with the crushing weight of impending doom.

On the elevated platform, one of his own subordinates stood defiantly, though his gaze betrayed raw, unrestrained hatred-hatred born from betrayal and hopeless desperation, fixed unflinchingly on Dominic. Matthew turned his attention back to Dominic, his voice soft, almost like a whisper, yet each word carried a weight that seemed capable of breaking even the strongest resolve.

"Look," Matthew said, his tone laced with a biting edge of quiet mockery. "Even your own men want you dead."

He raised a single finger, pointing it directly at Dominic's trembling figure.

"In your next life," he murmured, his voice cold as steel, "don't bother coming back as a human. You're unworthy."

In an instant, an immense surge of inner energy erupted from Matthew's fingertip.

The air seemed to distort and crackle under its power, and a violent mist of blood erupted where Dominic had stood moments before.

The force obliterated him entirely, leaving behind only a gruesome crimson fog that hung heavily in the air.

By the time the blood mist began to disperse, Matthew had already moved to the far end of the platform, his white robe flowing with almost ethereal grace, as though untouched by the destruction he had wrought. Redrod Dominic-gone.

The blood settled on the arena's dark, red-stained ground, deepening its sinister hue.

For a moment, the crowd sat frozen, silent, and wide-eyed, as if time itself had stopped. Then, the collective reality of what they had just witnessed began to sink in, and unease rippled through the audience like an invisible wave.

What was meant to be a life-and-death duel had been nothing but a cruel farce. Dominic's arrogance had blinded him to the true strength of his opponent.

In his hubris, he had challenged a force far beyond his comprehension, and that arrogance had cost him everything.

All eyes turned toward Matthew, who now stood at the center of the arena. His white robe, so pristine against the darkened stage, made him look almost otherworldly, like a figure from a forgotten legend. The oppressive silence among the spectators weighed heavily in the

air.

Suddenly, a commanding voice shattered the tension. "The Governor's Keep is taking control of this arena! Nobody is to make a move!"

The declaration was followed by the swift arrival of soldiers from the Governor's Keep. Their polished weapons gleamed ominously under the lights as they fanned out, taking control of every corner of the arena. Guns, sleek and menacing, were aimed at the crowd, silencing even the faintest whispers of dissent.

"The Governor's Keep?" someone murmured in disbelief, their voice trembling. "What are they trying to do?"

Fear rippled through the audience, sharp and palpable.

Amid the rising tension, a woman rose gracefully from her seat. Her calm, unhurried movements drew the attention of everyone in the

room, Her name was Orla, annet

though she appeared serene, the air around her seemed to hum with authority.

"What is she doing?" a man hissed nervously, tugging at his companion's sleeve. "Sit down before they notice us!"

But Orla remained still, her expression composed, exuding an almost regal presence.

Matthew's gaze shifted toward her, his interest piqued. His eyes briefly flickered to the soldiers encircling the arena, but they inevitably returned to her, drawn by her calm yet commanding demeanor. Another figure soon joined Orla-Toliver, clad in military attire that emphasized his disciplined bearing.

With deliberate precision, he dropped to one knee before her.

"Greetings, Governor!" he announced, his voice clear and resolute.

The soldiers echoed his words in a thunderous chorus. "Greetings, Governor!"noveldrama

Gasps rippled through the crowd. All eyes were fixed on Orla as she slowly lifted her hand, removing the veil that had obscured her face.

Her features were stunning, her beauty striking yet imbued with an air of unyielding authority.

As her gaze swept across the room, her voice rang out, calm yet firm. "The Governor's Keep declares Dominic of the Viper Crew guilty of heinous crimes!"

Her tone sharpened with determination as she continued. "From this day forward, the life-and-death arena will be shut down and repurposed as a coliseum."

Her piercing eyes landed on the surviving members of the Viper Crew, her silent scrutiny cutting deeper than words. The gang members exchanged nervous glances, as though the very weight of her gaze pinned them in place.

"Does the Viper Crew have any objections?" Orla asked coolly.

After a tense pause, one of the gang members stepped forward, his voice trembling. "We support your decision. We... we have no objections."

A faint smile touched Orla's lips-brief, yet layered with both approval and a subtle menace. "In that case," she said steadily, "with Dominic gone, who will now lead the Viper Crew?"

Her question hung in the air, deliberate and cutting, sending another wave of unease through the spectators.

Matthew's eyes lingered on Orla.

Though her words seemed

straightforward, he could sense the precise calculation behind them.

er the

he wished to exert control over

Viper Crew and Ore Island, the path

forward would now hinge on how he navigated this unexpected turn of events.

Finally, a voice broke the silence.

"Mr... Mr. Larden!"