Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

The atmosphere in the arena shifted once again as the second-ranked outer disciple, Kael Drakthorn, strode forward with unwavering confidence. His aura was palpable, commanding attention from everyone present.

Elder Darius Armist, seated in the center, leaned forward slightly, a proud smile forming on his face. "Kael Drakthorn," he began, his voice deep and steady, "your performance today was—"

But before Elder Darius could finish, Kael's voice rang out, cutting him off with an air of impatience. "I wish to become your disciple, Elder Darius." His tone was firm, almost challenging, as if he had already decided his fate long before the elder had spoken.

The arena fell into a stunned silence, the crowd murmuring at Kael's boldness. Eyes flickered between the young disciple and the elder, wondering how such audacity would be received. Few would dare interrupt a top elder, let alone in front of so many witnesses.

For a moment, Elder Darius's expression faltered, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. But the reaction was brief. Almost immediately, his lips curled back into a smile, a knowing glint in his eyes. Rather than showing annoyance, the elder seemed more amused than anything else.

"Hmph, you've got spirit," Darius said, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable note of approval. "I can respect that." He gave Kael a measured look, as if weighing his determination. "Very well," Darius said, his tone now more authoritative. "You shall become my disciple."

Kael gave a sharp, curt bow, but there was no hint of gratitude in his expression—only satisfaction. His eyes gleamed with confidence, as if this outcome had been inevitable all along.

He wasn't just pleased with the result; he had expected it. His aura remained strong, unshaken, a silent testament to his belief in his own strength.

Elder Darius, watching the young disciple's bold display, gestured casually for Kael to stand beside him. "Come, stand here, Drakthorn," he said, his voice carrying a note of approval, accompanied by a slight smirk, as though pleased with the new addition to his ranks.

As Kael moved to Darius's side, the elder glanced toward Roxana, his smirk widening ever so slightly. It wasn't just an idle gesture; there was something behind it—a message, unspoken but clear: You're not the only one who can draw in powerful disciples. only found at NovelFire _e-mp|y,r

Roxana met his gaze but remained silent, her expression calm, though her eyes flickered with a faint gleam of interest. The silent exchange between the two top elders did not go unnoticed by the crowd or the other elders.

Kael, however, wasn't finished with his performance. Standing tall beside Elder Darius, his eyes immediately sought out Zeus.

When he found him, Kael's gaze hardened into a sharp, unblinking glare, filled with unspoken challenge and intent. The message in his stare was clear: "I'm coming for you next."

Zeus, unfazed by the glare, responded with nothing more than a slow, confident smirk. He met Kael's stare without flinching, his expression almost mocking.

"You're still not a threat," Zeus thought, his confidence as steady as ever. The challenge in Kael's eyes only seemed to amuse him further.

The air between them crackled with tension, but Zeus remained calm, his smirk sending a clear signal: "I've already beaten you once, and I'll do it again if needed."

Elder Darius, noticing the silent exchange between the two disciples, allowed himself a small chuckle. "Save it for later, Drakthorn," he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of authority. "There'll be plenty of time to prove yourself."

Kael's glare lingered for a moment longer, but he eventually broke eye contact and turned his attention back to Elder Darius, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment. It was clear that Kael was eager to rise further in power—and equally determined to surpass Zeus.

Meanwhile, the other three top elders—Aric Valen, Sylph Margrave, and Thorne Arcturus—watched the scene with frowns etched deeply into their faces. With two disciples already chosen—Zeus and Kael—they were starting to feel the pressure.

Their options were narrowing, and despite their authority and power, they couldn't help but feel that they were losing out on the most promising talents of this generation.

Aric Valen muttered under his breath, "This test is proving more competitive than expected."

Sylph Margrave nodded slightly, her gaze still lingering on the two chosen disciples. "And we've yet to see the first-ranked," she said, her voice soft but tinged with anticipation.

Thorne Arcturus remained silent, his eyes narrowed as he watched Zeus and Kael carefully, already calculating his next move.

The tension between the elders and their chosen disciples simmered in the arena, but Zeus remained unfazed.

Standing tall beside Roxana, his smirk stayed firmly in place, a silent declaration of confidence. No matter the pressure, he was calm, steady, as if already anticipating what came next.

But soon, the focus of the entire arena shifted. The moment everyone had been waiting for finally arrived.

Lucy Luxoria, the first-ranked outer disciple, began her deliberate walk toward the center of the arena. Her presence commanded attention—not just through raw power, but through the calm, cold expression she wore like armor.

There was no arrogance in her steps, no need to prove herself outwardly. Her quiet confidence made her seem untouchable, as though no one in the arena was her equal.

The crowd murmured, captivated by her every movement, and the top five elders all leaned forward, their eyes locked on her as if she were a precious gem.

Elder Darius's expression sharpened, and he muttered quietly, "This one... there's something different about her."

Elder Aric Valen nodded, his tone more cautious. "She's not just powerful. She knows it."

Elder Sylph Margrave's eyes gleamed with interest, her voice a soft whisper. "Such immense potential..."

Even Elder Thorne Arcturus, usually silent, spoke in a low voice. "It's as if she's already outgrown her peers."

Roxana said nothing, her sharp gaze following Lucy's every step. Unlike the others, her expression showed no surprise—only acknowledgment, as if she had expected this level of poise from the very beginning.

Lucy reached the center of the arena, her cold, calm eyes sweeping across the elders, taking in their stares without flinching. She didn't slow down or hesitate, moving forward with a quiet yet unshakable sense of purpose.