I'm a hidden boss

Icy panic ran down Evan's spine, but his face remained impassive. With a smile meant to be nonchalant, he said, "Superior Bishop, would you please let me go." Amelia's response was instantaneous, an explosion of suppressed fury. With a snarl, she pressed the sword against Evan's throat.

"How insolent! You started this and now you're backing out!"

Evan's nerves were on edge, a tension he felt in every cell of his body, but his voice remained steady.

"I was just curious," he replied, keeping his cool with superhuman effort, "with the strength you're showing, I think you should be down there, participating in the demonstration."

Bishop watched Evan for a long moment, his gaze penetrating, scrutinizing his emotions, his intentions. The silence stretched, heavy and tense, before Bishop, with a fluid, surprising movement, released Evan's hand. A radiant, almost unnerving smile lit his face.

"Everyone has those kinds of feelings," he said, his voice soft but firm, "but if you go too deep into them… you can die." Bishop's warning was clear, a warning that resonated with hidden power. Evan, understanding the gravity of the situation and the danger he had been in, did not refuse. He said goodbye to Bishop and Amelia, his retreat quick and silent. However, before he disappeared completely into the crowd, he noticed Bishop's gaze upon him, an intense, penetrating gaze that sent a chill down his spine.

She kept watching him, analyzing him, even from a distance.

Until he could disappear into the doors of the stands

Icy panic ran down Evan's spine, but his face remained impassive. He fell heavily against the wall, cold sweat soaking his shirt. Heinrich, beside him, sighed. Even he, with his centuries of experience as a hero, had felt the crushing pressure of Bishop's gaze. An intimidation that transcends the physical, an invisible weight that settles in the soul.

As they both caught their breath, trying to gather their still-shaking thoughts, a subtle sound broke the silence. The scrape of boots against stone. Slow, deliberate footsteps approaching. Evan and Heinrich looked up, their eyes meeting those of a man with snow-white hair and eyes as red as embers. Arnold True Xion. The second imperial prince.

Evan's nerves strained again, a vibrating string on the verge of breaking. He was standing before a prince, a figure who could erase him from existence with a breath. The threat was palpable, latent in the tense air.

Arnold, his expression expressionless, stopped a few feet away. His cold, penetrating gaze fell on Evan. The prince's voice, soft but laden with implicit threat, echoed in the silence.

“What did you talk to her about?”

Arnold's question echoed in Evan's mind, sowing confusion. Who was "she"? The question became a silent storm inside him, a frantic search for the answer. And the answer, a cold conclusion, prevailed:

"Bishop."

Just as that realization crystallized in his mind, an overwhelming pressure crushed him. An invisible, oppressive force that seemed to want to strangle him. The contempt on Arnold's face was unmistakable, a silent but devastating judgment. Evan had made a mistake, a lack of tact that the prince would not tolerate.

With a Herculean effort, Evan hastily corrected his answer, his voice barely a whisper.

"¿La Superior Bishop?"

The pressure faded as suddenly as it had come. Arnold nodded, a slight nod confirming the correctness. The danger, though attenuated, was still present, a latent threat beneath the surface of the prince's cool courtesy. Silence fell again, now laden with a different weight, with the tension of an encounter that had barely begun.

Evan, his throat dry and his hands trembling, spoke bluntly. He no longer had the strength to pretend, to maintain a mask of calm. He explained to Arnold the same thing he had told Bishop: that his approach had been driven solely by curiosity. Arnold's response mirrored Bishop's warning, a cold, cutting threat, an exact replica that chilled Evan's blood. The feeling of oppression, the invisible pressure that had crushed him moments before, returned with renewed intensity. Just at that instant, the commentator's voice echoed through the stadium, announcing Arnold's entrance into the arena for his fight. The prince, without another word, walked away, leaving Evan alone with the resonance of his words and the overwhelming sense of danger that had enveloped him.

Once Arnold's figure faded, Evan breathed deeply, inhaling the fresh air eagerly. The weight of the threat had dissipated, but the uncertainty remained, lurking in his heart. He turned his gaze to Heinrich, who was watching him with a mixture of understanding and sadness.

“Are you sure I’ll be the hero?” Evan asked, his voice barely a whisper. It had been only four days since he had discovered his destiny, the revelation of Heinrich’s soul that had designated him the new hero. But doubts, like seeds of uncertainty, had taken root in his mind. After all, he was a mere commoner, a little stronger than others in his year, but only that. The confidence that had barely begun to sprout had withered under the relentless suppression exerted by both Bishop and Arnold.

Heinrich gave a small laugh, a soft, malice-free sound. “I was a commoner, don’t worry,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. You’ve just begun.”

Heinrich's words, simple but filled with ancient wisdom, managed to calm Evan's inner storm. A small ray of hope, a spark of confidence, rekindled in his chest. The road would be long and difficult, fraught with obstacles and dangers, but at least now he was certain he wasn't alone.