Damn it, why won’t you just go down?! [R-18]
Alex ignored the deafening cheers of the stadium and the furious, screaming curses of Lord Malakor echoing from the balcony above.
The moment the heavy iron exit gates ground shut behind him, cutting off the blinding arena spotlights, he leaned his weight against the cool stone wall of the tunnel and let out a shaky, ragged breath.
His entire body felt like it was on fire as his second Ecdysis phase rose to a staggering 74.5%.
The slow physical backlash was hitting him all at once.
Underneath his pants, an overwhelming rush of blood pooled straight down between his legs.
He hurried down the quiet corridor as fast as he could, pushing open the heavy door to the private resting room and slamming the deadbolt behind him.
The room was very quiet, completely cutting off the chaos of the outside world.
Alex stumbled over to the velvet sofa and dropped onto the cushions, crossing his legs as he closed his eyes and tried to force his breathing to slow down.
He channeled his mana through his mana circuits, trying to use the freezing, ice-cold properties of his 'Yin-Mercury Body Art' to suppress the burning heat in his lower belly.
Five minutes passed in absolute silence.
However, the intense arousal coursing through his nerves only seemed to get worse, keeping his senses dialed up to the absolute limit.
"Come on, buddy, calm down... Please calm down," Alex muttered through gritted teeth, his high-pitched, melodic voice echoing slightly in the room.
"It's not the right time or place for this... There are hundreds of guests and guards waiting outside. I can't expose myself like this."
Despite his mental pleading and the freezing ice mana circulating in his chest, his little brother was stubbornly hard.
He could feel his silk trousers tightening uncomfortably around his groin. Alex looked down, and his face instantly burned a bright red.
Because the tailored white silk pants were designed to hug a woman's curves, the fabric was thin and form-fitting.
Right now, there was an undeniable, clearly visible erection tenting the front of his trousers, pushing out sharply against his left thigh.
It looked completely ridiculous and impossible to hide.
If he walked back out into the bright VIP lounge looking like this, every single noble, gambler, and guard would instantly see that the gorgeous, untouchable "Lady Veronica Sterling" was sporting a rock-hard dick under her clothes.
"Damn it, why won't you just go down?!" Alex cursed, uncrossing his legs and reaching down to adjust the waistband, trying to manually push his erection flat against his leg so the fabric wouldn't bulge so obviously.
Just as his fingers touched the tight silk, a sudden vibration spread through the floorboards beneath his shoes.
At first, he thought it was just the crowd outside stomping their feet in the stands.
But within seconds, the vibration grew stronger as the sofa began to shake beneath him. The crystal glasses sitting on the glass coffee table clinked together loudly before tipping over and rolling onto the carpet.
It wasn't just the furniture.
The entire room, and the huge ten-thousand-seat coliseum around it, was also beginning to shudder violently, as if a localized earthquake had just hit Iron Creek City.
Alex froze, his Feral Gaze flashing open with a sharp, silvery-blue light. With his enhanced perception, he could feel every vibration traveling through the concrete.
The vibrations weren't coming from the surrounding city streets; they were pulsing directly upward from hundreds of feet below the building.
Along with the shaking ground, a faint, suffocating wave of foul, heavy energy began to seep up through the floorboards.
"Fuck," Alex whispered, his eyes widening as the pieces clicked together in his head. "It must be that bitch Clara and those crazy Evil God followers…!"
Alex instantly jumped to his feet, summoning his long sword into his hand.
If he didn't get down to the deepest dungeon levels right now, Liria, her sister Sera, and dozens of innocent prisoners were going to be turned into sacrifices.
He took one step toward the door, but stopped dead in his tracks.
He looked down at his lower half.
His little brother was still standing proud and hard, pitching a clear, embarrassing tent right through the front of his white silk trousers.
The adrenaline of the earthquake hadn't done a single thing to kill his Ecdysis arousal.
"Damn it, you really picked the worst possible time to act like a real man!" Alex growled, his face burning hot as the room shook harder around him.
He didn't have time to sit around and wait for his erection to fade, nor did he have time to change into a different outfit.
Running entirely on practical instinct, Alex grabbed his blazer off the back of the sofa.
Instead of putting his arms through the sleeves, he wrapped the jacket tightly around his slim waist and tied the sleeves into a firm knot over his left hip like a short skirt.
It hung just low enough to completely cover the front of his trousers, neatly hiding his bulging erection from view while blending right into his high-fashion outfit.
Satisfied that his secret was covered, Alex quickly walked out.
The hallway outside was falling into absolute chaos.
The tremors had grown significantly stronger in the last minute, turning from a subtle vibration into a violent, shaking jolt that made it hard for normal people to keep their balance.
The heavy golden chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling were swinging wildly back and forth, casting shadows across the red carpet.
Down the corridor, the glass doors leading to the inner VIP lounge were wedged open, and the sound of screaming, crashing tables, and breaking glass echoed loudly through the building.
Alex walked out into the corridor. Through the open archways of the viewing balcony, he could see the massive open-air stadium falling into a panic.
In the dirt fighting pit below, two pairs of slave gladiators who had just started the next match had completely stopped fighting.
They dropped their weapons, stumbling and grabbing onto the concrete barrier walls as the floor cracked and split open, releasing thin wisps of foul, dark red smoke from the underground channels.
In the stands, nearly ten thousand spectators were screaming in terror.
The arrogant, wealthy gamblers who were drinking champagne and groping slaves just ten minutes ago were now pushing, shoving, and trampling over each other to reach the exit gates.
Security drones buzzed erratically overhead, their holographic screens flickering with red warning lights as the coliseum's automated defense sirens began to wail.
"Boss! Where are you?!" A frightened, squeaking voice echoed down the corridor.
Leo came stumbling around the corner; his eyes were wide with panic.
"The whole building seems to be coming apart!" Leo yelled, grabbing onto the wall as a nearby pillar slowly cracked. "The guards are abandoning their posts!"
"We need to take the emergency exit and get out of here before the roof collapses!"
"It's not that serious yet," Alex said coldly, as he gripped the hilt of his sword. "The main event is just starting down below; stay behind me. We're going down."
Without wasting another second, Alex grabbed the sleeve of Leo's coat and pulled him down the shaking hallway, moving against the panicked tide of guests.
Alex led Leo down the private stairwells leading directly into the roots of the coliseum.
By the time they reached the lower basement landing, the air had grown thick, cold, and heavy. But the way forward was blocked.
At the end of a wide, reinforced concrete corridor stood a massive set of double steel gates, each one easily ten feet high and thick enough to stop a charging armored beast.
A dozen heavily armed Windrake family guards stood in front of the locked barrier, their tactical rifles and blades drawn, blocking a furious crowd of people attempting to force their way through.
It wasn't regular civilians trying to get down here.
The mob consisted of wealthy nobles, high-stakes bookies, and their personal elite bodyguards, every single one of them radiating a solid C-Rank aura or higher.
"Open the damn gates right now!" a burly, scarred mercenary captain shouted, shoving his shoulder against the line of shields. "If you don't let us into the tunnels, we'll cut you down and leave ourselves!"
"Back off! This is a restricted area!" the guard lieutenant cursed back, his face pale and sweating as he struggled to hold the line against several C-Rank pressures pressing down on him at once.
"The lower levels are under emergency lockdown by order of the Director! Anyone who steps forward will be shot!"
The corridor was a powder keg of shouting voices, cursing guards, and clashing mana pressure.
Alex didn't know any of them, nor did he care about how they escaped.
He walked straight toward the chaotic mob. As he got closer, one of the elite bodyguards at the edge of the crowd turned around to snarl at him, only for the words to freeze completely in his throat.
"Holy shit..." the guard whispered, taking a quick step backward. "That's Sterling! That's the woman who just defeated the Gorefang!"
The name spread through the crowded hallway like wildfire. The shouting died down almost instantly.
Wealthy nobles and various mercenaries alike turned their heads; without anyone needing to say another word, the dense crowd instinctively parted.
They backed away from the locked gates, clearing a wide, open path straight through the center of the corridor.
Even the Windrake guards tensed up, their rifles lowering slightly in nervous hesitation as Alex moved right past the parted crowd without paying them a single glance.
Leo scurried half a step behind him, trying his best to look like an intimidating butler despite his shaking knees.
Alex walked straight up to the thick steel gates, stopping less than an inch away from the cold metal.
"Ma'am, you can't!!" the guard lieutenant stammered, raising his hand.
Alex simply ignored him. He lifted his pale, bare hands and placed his palms flat against the heavy steel gates, channeling his mana directly down his arms and out through his fingertips.
A thick, cracking layer of silvery-grey ice exploded outward from Alex's palms, racing across the surface of the gates like speeding spiderwebs.
The moisture in the air turned into falling snow as the mana invaded the steel, chilling the metal so fast and so hard that deep, structural groans began to echo from inside the barrier.
In less than three seconds, the ten-foot-tall steel gates had turned a dull, pale white, covered in thick frost and rendered completely brittle from extreme thermal shock.
"Push," Alex commanded, his voice a smooth, demonic whisper that vibrated right through the ground of the men and women standing behind him.
Desperate for a way out of the collapsing building, several of the strongest mercenary guards didn't hesitate.
CRACK!
The brittle, frozen steel couldn't withstand the combined kinetic force; the small connectors joining them broke apart, and the gates were slowly pushed open by them.