Damn it, why is everyone staring so hard? [R-18]
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The exterior of the underground coliseum looked nothing like an old stone fighting pit. Built right into the heart of Iron Creek City’s high-end commercial district, it was a massive, modern sci-fi entertainment complex.
Towering walls of dark, polished alloy reached toward the night sky, lit up by giant holographic banners that flashed live betting odds, fighter statistics, and advertisements for luxury brands.
Above the main entrance, thick strips of neon blue and purple lights cut through the dark evening air.
Floating camera drones buzzed overhead like glowing insects, scanning the rich guests who were arriving to watch the fights.
A huge crowd had gathered outside the barricades, hundreds of regular civilians, lower-class gamblers, and local media reporters stood shoulder-to-shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the city’s elite.
The atmosphere was loud, busy, and thick with excitement.
Right in front of the red carpet that led to the VIP gates, a long, sleek black luxury vehicle pulled up to the curb.
Its heavy engine let out a low, smooth hum before going quiet.
The driver's door opened, and Leo stepped out onto the pavement.
He had done a fantastic job with his disguise. Wearing a layer of realistic aging makeup that added subtle wrinkles around his eyes and silver streaks through his hair, the young man looked like a seasoned, middle-aged butler from an ancient noble house.
He wore a crisp, tailored black-and-white suit, held a metal briefcase in his left hand, and gripped a polished black walking stick in his right.
As soon as his feet hit the ground, Leo lifted his chin, putting on a cold, arrogant, and haughty expression.
He glared at the nearby photographers and the crowd of peasants behind the barriers as if they were dirty insects disturbing his master’s air.
With slow, deliberate steps, Leo walked around to the rear passenger door.
He gripped the handle, pulled the door open, and bowed at a sharp ninety-degree angle, extending a white-gloved hand toward the dark interior.
"We have arrived, my lady," Leo said, his voice carrying a practiced, respectful depth.
For a second, the busy entrance seemed to quiet down as curious eyes turned toward the open door.
Then, a polished white leather shoe with a sharp, three-inch stiletto heel stepped out, clicking firmly onto the pavement.
Alex stepped out of the vehicle into the flashing lights of the city.
He was dressed exactly as planned, wearing the high-fashion ivory silk three-piece suit trimmed with intricate gold embroidery.
The fabric looked incredibly expensive, catching the neon lights of the coliseum and giving off a soft, rich glow.
The outfit was a masterpiece of tailoring, but wearing it in the real world felt entirely different than trying it on in a quiet motel bedroom.
Underneath the blazer, the sleek silk bralette held his newly developed breasts firmly in place.
The double-breasted jacket was buttoned tight, hugging his narrowed waist and clearly showing off the gentle, unmistakable swell of his chest.
The tailored, wide-leg silk trousers hugged his hips, accentuating his new hourglass figure and the rounder, fuller shape of his ass with every tiny movement, with a luxurious long sword hanging on her left side..
His short, silky black hair framed a face that looked completely flawless.
His pale skin seemed to glow under the evening lights, and his dark grey eyes carried a faint, golden trace of his Feral Gaze, giving him a cold, dangerous, and untouchable aura.
Standing there in the cool night air, Alex looked like a wealthy, mysterious noblewoman who owned everything she looked at.
Click. Click. Click.
Alex took his first step forward. There was no clumsiness anymore, no wobbling on the thin heels.
Thanks to two full days of private practice with Liria and the natural body control from his Flowing Spirit Sword Forms, he didn't stumble or wobble on the thin heels anymore.
Alex’s balance was absolute. Every muscle in his body moved with a smooth, hypnotic, and lethal grace.
He didn't fight the weight of his newly developed hips anymore; he let them sway naturally with every step he took on the three-inch heels.
The wide-leg ivory trousers swished softly around his ankles, tightening just enough around his thighs and ass with every stride to draw the eyes of everyone within fifty feet.
His shoulders stayed relaxed, his posture was straight, and his hips swayed naturally from side to side with a smooth, liquid, and lethal grace.
Every step caused the soft curves of his chest to press gently against the snug silk of his jacket, releasing a faint, sweet, and intoxicating trace of his natural pheromones into the air around him.
The reaction from the crowd was instant.
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers. The noisy chatter of the commercial district died down for a heartbeat, only to explode into a sudden, blinding storm of camera flashes.
The floating media drones immediately turned their lenses away from the local city officials and zoomed straight toward Alex.
"Who is that?!" a reporter shouted over the barriers, trying to push past the security shields.
"Look at that suit! That's pure northern border silk, you can't even buy that in this city, is she a Royal?" another noble whispered loudly to his companion, his eyes wide as he stared at Alex’s swaying hips.
"I heard rumors in the financial district this afternoon! They said a mysterious, wealthy gemstone merchant from the north just arrived to spend millions of credits on the underground fights!"
"Is that her? She’s gorgeous... but look at her eyes. And that cold aura! She must be one of those old aristocrats from the capital!"
As Alex walked toward the main doors, Leo followed half a step behind him, tapping his walking stick against the ground with a rhythmic rhythm while holding the briefcase close to him.
He kept his haughty glare fixed on anyone who dared to lean too close, playing the part of an elite bodyguard and servant to perfection.
The crowd didn't just watch; they literally moved sideways.
Without any guards needing to push them back, the wealthy nobles and high-society gamblers standing on the red carpet instinctively stepped out of the way.
They parted like the Red Sea, clearing a wide, open path straight to the entrance, bowing their heads slightly as Alex floated past them.
Alex kept his face entirely expressionless, looking straight ahead with cold indifference. But on the inside, his heart was beating fast.
"Damn it, why is everyone staring so hard?" Alex thought, feeling a warm blush trying to creep up his neck.
He forced his breathing to stay slow and calm, focusing on the rhythmic sway of his waist and the click of his heels. "Just keep walking. You're Veronica Sterling. You're a rich, arrogant bitch who doesn't care about anyone here."
They reached the top of the stairs, right in front of the massive alloy doors of the VIP entrance.
Normally, guests had to stop at the security desk, show their identification passes, and allow the guards to scan their bodies for hidden weapons.
Alex was ready for this; he had his fake papers ready in Leo's briefcase, and his Rank C mana was carefully suppressed inside his mana core.
But before they could even reach the desk, the heavy alloy doors slid open with a sharp, pneumatic hiss.
A squad of six elite, fully armored guards marched out.
They wore high-tech black tactical gear with the golden dragon crest of the Windrake family painted on their chest plates.
These weren't regular security bouncers; they were professional combat awakeners, each one radiating a solid Rank C pressure.
Alex tensed up slightly, ready to fight if things went wrong.