Roselle's POV
I stood by the floor-length window of my penthouse, a glass of vintage red wine in my hand, the city lights of Moscow glittering like broken stars beneath me. The world down there was chaotic, ruthless… but up here? Up here, I ruled in silence.
My phone buzzed on the crystal table beside me.
Joanna's name.
I answered it without hesitation, her nervous voice coming through, "It's done."
A smirk tugged at my lips. "She signed?"
"Yes… without even reading too deep."
Of course she did. Abigail Bardot — the ever-so-proud queen of fake power. Always acting like she's untouchable. But when you have desperation and arrogance combined? That's when people make their dumbest moves.
"Good," I said coldly. "You just helped bring her kingdom down, Joanna. Enjoy your eighty million."
I hung up before she could respond.
I turned back to the cityscape, swirling the wine in my glass. I wasn't celebrating. Not yet. This was only the first crack. But it was satisfying. Knowing she—Abigail—unknowingly signed a document that gave me temporary rights over Bardot Industries' Eastern operations and a hidden clause that could ruin her.
She wanted to play in my arena. She forgot I built it.
As I took a slow sip, Kaisel walked into the room silently and handed me the final signed document, printed and stamped.
"It's all official now, Ms. Vasilyev."
I looked at the bold ink of Abigail's signature.
"Tell our legal dogs to prep the next stage. I want Bardot Industries to bleed. But not too fast. I want her to watch every piece fall out of her hands… slowly."
Kaisel nodded. "Understood."
I leaned back into the leather chair, eyes gleaming with a mixture of satisfaction and cruelty.
"You should've never played me, Abigail. And you should've never broken a man like Samuel Gebb."
I raised my glass slightly toward the moonlit sky, as if making a toast.
"To the shameless woman's fall… and the rise of the Devil she helped create."
And then I laughed—soft, cold, and dangerous.
Because the game had just begun.
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Samuel's POV
Wilderness of the Southern Region – Near the Crimson Peaks
The fire crackled quietly as I leaned back against a jagged rock, my gauntlets resting beside me, gleaming faintly in the firelight. The stars above blinked like distant watchers — silent, cold, and indifferent to the path of monsters like me.
My eyes narrowed on the flames as my thoughts wandered to the name echoing through the whispers of this world: Owen Yates.
That damn name again.
I'd heard too many rumors lately — whispers of a man ruling beasts, taming titans, walking through armies like a living calamity. Beasts revered him. Humans feared him. Even the land around him shifted, as if submitting to his will.
King of Beasts.
A title like that isn't just given. It's earned.
But that wasn't what got under my skin. What truly pulled at the edges of my memory was the familiarity. That name… it didn't belong in this world. Just like me.
I closed my eyes, letting the silence settle before it hit me like a storm crashing against a cliff.
"The Martial King…" I muttered, a slow, wicked smirk tugging at my lips. "Of course it's you."
Back in our old world — the one filled with tournaments, power rankings, and blood-soaked arenas — there was only one person who could go toe to toe with me and Henry Hans. Only one man who refused to bow, who sharpened his skills like blades forged by war itself.
"Owen Yates… the Martial King. So you got thrown into this world too, huh?"
I laughed softly to myself. There was no fear in it. No hesitation. Just excitement — the kind that starts burning deep in your bones when you know you're going to war against a monster worthy of your rage.
"So the King of Beasts is the same warrior who broke my jaw in the finals of the Dragon Blood Arena… heh. Guess I owe him a receipt."
The fire flared as if reacting to my intent. My smile darkened.
"This world isn't big enough for the three of us… and you already know it, don't you, Owen?"
I grabbed my gauntlets and stood up, tightening the straps as the weight of destiny settled on my shoulders like an old friend.
"First Henry. Then Owen. Let's see who breaks first."
And with that, I walked into the night.
Because war was coming. And I wouldn't want it any other way.