An Understated Dominance

As the sun dipped below the horizon and night descended, Bailey, known as the Grizz Lord, was 30 miles from the Sacred Wrym Summit in a secluded mountain villa.

Seated at the dining table, he feasted on meat and gulped down the wine. His mouth was gleaming with grease.

The 16-foot-long table was filled with a variety of meats. At the center was a giant cow's head, with its cooked and reassembled body behind it.

There were also suckling pigs, whole lambs, chickens, ducks, fish, and other meats surrounding it. The table was filled with 30 to 40 different types of meat without any vegetables.

Bailey grabbed different pieces of meat and stuffed them into his mouth with incredible speed. He devoured them like a ravenous beast.Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

The two maids standing nearby watched in astonishment as hundreds of pounds of meat disappeared before their eyes as he wolfed them down in large pieces.

This amount of meat could have fed over 100 people, but he could have polished it off at the rate he was eating. His appetite was truly terrifying.

The maids couldn't resist wondering who could eat several hundred pounds of meat in one sitting. Was such a person even human?

Just as Bailey was stuffing himself, a handsome man of mixed heritage entered the room and greeted respectfully, "Hello, Mr. Bailey."

"Hank, you arrived just in time. The meat tasted great today. Come on over and have some," Bailey said, glancing up before diving back into his food.

"Thanks for the invite, but I've already eaten," Hank responded with a smile.

"Then, what brings you here?" Bailey asked through a mouthful of meat.

"You call for me, Mr. Bailey," Hank reminded him.

"I did?" Bailey paused. Then, he recalled something. "Oh! Right! I did have something to discuss with you, but I was so caught up enjoying my meal that it slipped my mind."

Hank's smile faltered before he regained his composure. He seemed used to Bailey's forgetfulness. "What instructions do you have for me, Mr. Bailey?" he asked politely.

Bailey finally stopped eating and took the hot towel handed by the maid to wipe his hands and mouth. "You know why the Hall of Gods is mobilizing forces to Sacred Wyrm Summit, right?

"We need to undermine Dragonmarsh secretly and also publicly lower the morale of their martial artists. That's why we must win the Combat Tournament."

"Mr. Bailey, if I may speak frankly. Dragonmarsh is filled with skilled experts and rising talents. Given our current capabilities, it would be tough for us to win in a fair fight," Hank said with measured respect.

Being of mixed heritage with Dragonmarsh roots, he knew that the nation's martial arts skills were the best in the world.

The only advantage the Hall of Gods had was the internal strife within the Dragonmarsh martial community, which prevented them from uniting. Otherwise, invading Dragonmarsh would be nearly impossible.

"I understand your concerns," Bailey replied with a smile. "That's why I've arranged for three experts to assist you. Their expertise will help us execute our plan smoothly."

"Oh? Who are these experts?" Hank asked, curious.

"Come on in!" Bailey suddenly called out.

Three distinctly dressed men walked in one after another.

The first was a burly man in his 30s with tanned skin. He stood over six and a half feet tall, and his muscular build rivaled Bailey's. This gave him an imposing presence, like a dark tower.

Following him was a man with mixed-race features similar to Hank's. He was dressed sharply in a suit that conveyed an air of nobility with every move. His unnaturally pale complexion gave him a ghostly appearance.

The third was a middle-aged man with glasses and dressed in a clerical ΟΠΙ

robe. He had a Stre quan face and wore a friendly smile. A cross hung from his neck, and he held the Holy Scriptures.

Despite his unassuming appearance, his presence made the burly and mixed -

race man instinctively step aside. They were wary of him.

"Why don't you three introduce yourselves?" Bailey said with a burp.

"I'm George Burroughs from Artea, also known as the Dusk Titan," the burly man with tanned skin said coldly.

"The Dusk Titan?" Hank's eyes widened in surprise. He had heard of the name before.

George was a legendary A-Class mutant from Artea. He was known for his incredible strength and nearly indestructible body. His skin was tougher than metal, making him impervious to bullets and cannon fire.

What was even more astonishing was his immense power.

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He once single-handedly stopped a speeding train. He didn't just stop it but practically obliterated it with a single punch. It was no exaggeration to say that the man before them was a walking juggernaut.

Hank couldn't believe Bailey had managed to recruit such a powerful being for the tournament.