After several monts of hard sobbing and coughing, Isabel slowly began to regain a sliver of control over her trembling body. Her ragged breaths beca slightly more regular, though still punctuated by hysterical gasps. With hands that still shook, she wiped her face, trying to scrub away the remnants of her humiliation still wet on her skin.
Then, her eyes began to take in her surroundings.
And she froze. This ti, not because of skill, but because of a horror far more profound.
Everything was still.
Absolutely still.
In the distance, participants locked in combat were frozen in bizarre mid-fight poses. One was caught mid-leap, sword raised, but not moving an inch. Another was frozen while unleashing a skill, energy radiating out yet suspended like a statue of light. Even specks of dust from the impacts hung suspended in the air, clearly visible, not falling.
She turned her head slowly, as if afraid to disturb this unnatural silence. Her gaze swept the arena—Arianna and Nerissa standing guard, perfectly frozen. Yukie still sitting on her throne, chin resting on her hand, her usually sharp ice-blue eyes now empty and unblinking, staring into a distance where nothing moved at all.
Then, with a heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst from her chest, Isabel turned to look at the prestigious tribune—the seats of the Guardian Council.
There, the world’s most powerful and influential figures sat frozen. Delilah Socheron, Adam’s mother, her beautiful face usually full of authority, now looked like a perfect wax statue. The other council mbers, each with different expressions—so mid-speech, so observing, so clapping—all halted in an instant.
Isabel’s eyes flew wide open, her pupils constricting. Her breath hitched.
This... this is impossible.
A skill? But what kind of skill could... stop ti?
Stop ti for everyone? Even for the Guardian Council?
Her mind spun wildly, unable to find an answer. The horror she had felt now multiplied into an existential terror. This was no longer just extraordinary power. This was sothing that shouldn’t be possible. It violated the laws of nature. It surpassed all understanding.
Slowly, she turned her head back towards Adam, still standing beside her. Adam Socheron. The boy who was once weak, whom she used to look down upon, who was unworthy of being in the sa academy as her.
Now, he stood there with a casual posture. His face was expressionless, but his eyes... his eyes emitted sothing profoundly cold, profoundly dark, profoundly... satisfied. He looked at her like a collector observing a new acquisition.
Isabel shivered. A bone-chilling cold spread from the soles of her feet to the top of her skull. In her chaotic mind, fragnts of mory and logic began piecing themselves together into a terrifying picture.
Since the beginning of his awakening...
His stepmother, Delilah Socheron, the Star Witch who was once cold and indifferent to him, suddenly beca attentive. And then... Alex.
Alex Rutherford. His horrible death. And just before he died, he apologized, naked, in a deeply humiliating position, surrendered everything, completely debased himself... but Adam killed him anyway. In a manner so cruel, so full of contempt.
That wasn’t just a killing. It was a ssage.
A code for all of them, for everyone who had ever harassed him, humiliated him, treated him like trash: I will never forgive. No matter what you do. No matter how you beg. There will be no forgiveness.
Isabel already knew. She had prepared herself. Maximus was too laid-back, Yukie was indifferent, and Nerissa was just a healer and too weak... Isabel could only rely on herself, so she had braced for Adam’s revenge.
But all her preparation... was in vain.
Because she had never anticipated—had never even conceived—that Adam’s revenge would take this form.
Not a fierce duel in the arena. Not a covert attack in the night. Not even a swift execution.
But... this.
Violated. Stripped bare. Forced to do the most disgusting, most humiliating, most degrading things to her dignity as a human, as a woman. And done here. In the middle of a prestigious tournant arena. In front of hundreds of thousands of spectators with their eyes fixed on her.
A thod so... vulgar.
And the most terrifying thing was the ability Adam used to accomplish all this.
Stopping ti.
That was a power that shouldn’t exist. A power that transcended ranking, transcended class, transcended all their understanding of Dungeon Awakening.
He... he wasn’t just strong. He was sothing else entirely.
Isabel looked at Adam, and for the first ti in her life, she felt a pure, absolute, and hopeless fear. This was no longer about losing a fight, or losing face. This was about being completely in the control of soone who possessed the power to do anything to her, anyti, anywhere, with no one able to prevent it.
.
.
.
Isabel sat slumped on the floor, her body still completely naked and trembling, remnants of sen and tears still damp on her flushed face. Her reddened eyes stared at , waiting, perhaps expecting my first reaction after the chaos that had just unfolded.
I remained silent, rely observing. What would she do? Attack with her remaining strength? Hurl insults about how disgusting I was? Or...
"Did you..." her voice ca out, hoarse and ragged, almost like a whisper on the wind. She paused for a mont, taking a deep breath as if gathering courage. "Did you do this... to get revenge on ? For everything I... I did to you before?"
I raised an eyebrow. Wasn’t that obvious?
Without waiting for my answer, Isabel slowly moved. Her body rose from its sitting position, and then, with a movent that looked incredibly fragile and full of remorse, she knelt before . Her head bowed low, her now-ssy black hair falling to partly cover her face.
"Adam... I... I’m sorry," she uttered, her voice trembling, laden with emotions that sounded utterly sincere. "I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you. For every cutting word, every condescending glance, every ti I... I harassed you."
She lifted her face, and I saw fresh tears starting to flow again. "But you have to know... I did it because I had to. All of it was on Yukie’s orders. She’s that weird, ice-cold girl, I’ve never once seen her smile. I was afraid of her, she’s not normal."
Isabel sank back to sit on the floor, her legs folded, her body hunched as if bearing an imnse weight. Her hands wiped her face, not caring that they were still dirty, saring away tears and snot mixed with sen.
"I know... reasons aren’t excuses. I still did it. I still hurt you. And all this ti... all this ti I’ve felt so guilty. Every ti I saw you walking the halls with your head down, every ti I heard people talk about for defeating you... it felt like my heart was being sliced to pieces."
She drew in shuddering breaths, her voice crumbling further. "I wanted to apologize. For a long ti. But I was afraid. Afraid you wouldn’t forgive . Afraid it would make you hate even more. And look now... my fears were right. You won’t forgive , will you? After everything I’ve done... after everything you just... did to ..."
Isabel looked at , her grey eyes brimming with tears and a fragile innocence. Her usually cold, haughty expression now resembled that of a lost little girl—wounded and full of remorse.
"I realize... I don’t deserve forgiveness. Not after all that. But..."
She stopped, her hands clenching tightly in her lap. "But it shouldn’t have... it shouldn’t have co to this. I know I deserve retribution. I deserve punishnt. But this... this is the wrong way, Adam. Raping ... shaming like this in front of everyone... this isn’t right."
Her tears flowed freely again. "I... I’ll confess. I’ll accept my punishnt. I’ll admit all my wrongdoings before the academy board, even before the Guardian Council if I must. I’ll accept expulsion from the academy, or even imprisonnt. But please... please forgive . Forgive my foolishness. Forgive my fear. Forgive for being Yukie’s tool to hurt you."
She crawled a little closer, her trembling hands seeming to want to reach for my feet but not daring to. "And I promise... I’ll forget everything that happened here. I won’t report you. I won’t tell anyone about... about this terrifying ability of yours. I’ll stay silent. I just want... I just want you to give a chance to make things right. To prove that I truly am sorry."
Wow, she really was an excellent speaker. I was almost impressed. Any normal man watching would have been moved, perhaps even felt guilty for treating her so cruelly.
I, who had seen it all, rely raised both my eyebrows.
Her acting... was superb. Extraordinary, even. She had transford herself from a proud, arrogant girl into a fragile, remorseful victim in a matter of minutes.
But I wasn’t a normal man. And more importantly, I could read the true vibrations of emotion, even behind the most perfect mask.
A sneer then spread across my lips.
And behind those tears and that flawless expression of regret, inside Isabel’s rapidly spinning mind, a cold analysis was taking place. ’I need to get out of this situation first. Ti-stop skill... that’s beyond expectations. Don’t know its limits, don’t know how to counter it. And he definitely has other skills he’s hiding. Fighting head-on now is suicide.’
Her mind worked quickly, calculating. ’So my strategy is surrender. Pretend to be remorseful. Offer peace. Admit fault. What man can refuse a beautiful woman crying and begging for forgiveness? Then after I’m out of this situation... I’ll plan sothing, and then when the ti cos...’
’I will kill him.’
Her plan was clear. But then, as she saw the sneer on my face, the anger she had been suppressing exploded in her heart. ’YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU STILL DARE TO SNEER LIKE THAT AFTER TREATING LIKE TRASH?!’
The pent-up hatred, the humiliation still burning in every cell of her body, her shredded pride—it all overflowed at once. The logic and neatly laid plans were shattered by a wave of pure rage.
’Forget the plan! Forget the act! I’LL TEAR HIM APART RIGHT NOW!’
And in an instant, her body, which had been kneeling in a fragile pose, changed.
Like lightning, Isabel shot forward. Her movent was so fast it was almost invisible to the normal eye—the speed of a true Rank A Assassin. From her sleeve lying on the floor, a short blade glinted, snatched up by her skilled fingers.
She used the montum, used the close proximity, used the mont where I might have been lulled into thinking she had surrendered.
Isabel’s eyes, which monts ago were full of tears, now blazed with pure hatred. Her red lips ford an angry snarl. The blade was swung with lethal precision, aid at my neck—an attack clearly ant to kill, violating tournant rules, but she no longer cared.
She wanted only one thing: to kill Adam Socheron.
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