Chapter 90: Preparation For The Tournament

Chapter 90: Preparation For The TournamentChapter 90: The Terrifying Princess

Western Continent –

Nestled within an industrial zone surrounded by towering factories that powered half the world’s economy stood the elusive Electo Guild. These factories weren’t just any production centers—they were owned by the second-richest man on the planet. Yet, unlike Reynolds, who basked in fame and media attention, this man preferred the shadows. No one had seen his face in public.

Inside the Electo Guild’s training facility, agonized screams echoed—sharp, guttural cries of pain that were suddenly cut off by eerie silence. Then they returned. Again. And again. A relentless cycle of torment and stillness that grated on the nerves of everyone present.

The guild’s combat room—spacious and reinforced—was filled with nearly two dozen high-ranking members. Clad in crisp blue uniforms emblazoned with a crackling electric insignia, their physiques and gear marked them as elites. But today, their faces were pale, drenched in sweat, and their eyes wide with fear.

Because in front of them stood a monster cloaked in the skin of a girl.

Twenty of them attacked in unison, unleashing an arsenal of skills, bursts of speed, and deadly precision—but none of them could so much as graze her. Their desperation grew with every failed strike. They knew it was hopeless. They’d seen what happened to the others.

Over a hundred of their comrades now lay scattered across the floor—unmoving. Not dead, but unconscious, each one struck down by a barrage of paralyzing electricity that left them comatose.

And above them all hovered her—lightning crackling wildly around her figure, bathing her in sparks of blue. She had long, disheveled azure hair and wore a mischievous smile that twisted into something far more sinister under the electric glow.

Then, in a sing-song voice, she whispered:

"It’s sparkle time."



They froze. That phrase. That cursed phrase.


Ten minutes. That’s what she had given them. Ten minutes to attack her freely. She hadn’t lifted a finger in all that time.

Now the clock had run out.

Some tried to flee, but it was already too late. She raised a single hand and pointed it at the ground. Lightning exploded outward like a spider’s web, surging in all directions, bypassing anyone not involved and targeting only the combatants. Screams rang out as their bodies convulsed violently, before collapsing one by one into the same numb, unconscious heap as the others.

Those who had been watching from the sidelines were left frozen in place, their hearts pounding.

This girl—this monster—was an A-rank warrior. But they had seen her defeat ten other A-rankers in minutes. She had become a living legend, a walking nightmare, known across the western continent as:

The Terrifying Princess.

Her sweet face and deceptively innocent smile masked a power so overwhelming, so merciless, that even seasoned veterans dared not stand against her.

Then, she turned toward the rest of them. That same charming smile still on her lips.

She pointed to the arena, now a battlefield littered with twitching bodies. "Your turn," she said sweetly, her eyes sparkling with electric madness.

They gulped.

Some of them genuinely considered whether death might be better than getting fried into a living coma. Healing from that kind of internal nerve damage would take months.

Still, no one moved.

Her tone remained playful. "Are you refusing the order of your leader?" she asked with faux innocence, tilting her head.

No one dared to speak.

Then, in an instant—she vanished.

No. Not vanished.

She reappeared in front of one of the observers, faster than the eye could track. A single finger extended, electricity dancing dangerously at the tip. The man’s heart dropped. If she fired that at this range—

He wouldn’t just lose consciousness. He’d die.

And then—without hesitation—she fired.

The bolt tore through the air with terrifying speed.

The man closed his eyes, bracing for the electric strike.

But at the last moment—something shifted.

The bolt veered off course, crashing into a barrier with a sharp clang! Sparks scattered through the air.

A calm voice echoed from the shadows.

"You’re quite perceptive, little sister."

From the far side of the room, a figure stepped forward. A young man with short black hair tinged in blue, bearing an unmistakable resemblance to the electric demoness who had just decimated half the guild. The air itself seemed to settle as he appeared—his presence exuding quiet authority.

"Leave," he said, gesturing toward the trembling guild members.

But before they could move, she snapped, "No! Stop! I commanded you—as your leader!"



No one stopped.

Her brows furrowed. "Why aren’t they listening...?"

The young man sighed.

"Simple," he said gently, "because you’re not the leader."

Her jaw tightened.

He was right. Balon—her elder brother—was the official guild master of Electo, while she, Elexa, was the vice-head. She was stronger, faster, feared... but he held the title.

"Why must you be the guild leader?" she complained, walking beside him to the edge of the combat room, arms crossed like a sulking child. "I’m clearly stronger than you."

Balon chuckled softly, brushing a hand through his hair.

"I know, Elexa... But Father decided I’d lead. And you know how stubborn he is."

Their father—Luthor Mance, the second-richest man in the world—had founded the Electo Guild himself. His children weren’t just gifted by bloodline; they were powerhouses on the world stage. Both were ranked among the A6, with Elexa being the second-strongest Class A warrior, and Balon the third.

Even S-class warriors didn’t take them lightly.

Yet in private, these two were anything but fearsome. They bickered like kids, competed like rivals, and teased like best friends.

A few minutes passed in silence. Elexa still pouted, cheeks puffed in irritation.

Balon couldn’t help but smile. He reached out and gently rubbed her head.

"You’re such a battle freak, you know that?"

Her eyes narrowed but softened.

"Anyway, I’ve got good news," he added, smirking.

That caught her attention. "What is it?"

"You’ve heard of the upcoming World Tournament of Power, right?"

Her eyes lit up instantly. Of course she had. For someone obsessed with fighting, the tournament was the highlight of the decade.

"Well," he continued, "this year... they’re letting the A6 compete."

"What?! Are you serious?!"

She jumped with joy, electricity crackling faintly around her. For years, the A6 had been banned from participating—deemed too powerful, too disruptive. She had watched from the sidelines, aching to join in the chaos.

But not this year.

"I’m gonna wreck so many people," she grinned, practically bouncing.

Balon laughed. "Oh, and by the way... I heard Silver Wing and his master are entering too."

Elexa’s smile faded for a moment, replaced by a puzzled look.

"Silver Wing...? Oh, right! The Silver Guild merged with another, didn’t it?"

She paused, remembering the rumors. The master of that guild...



A man said to wield flames so powerful, they scorched the sky. They called him—

The Fire God.

"So," she muttered, "our little bird friend finally gave up on trying to break into Class S, huh?"

"I wouldn’t be so sure," Balon replied, his tone thoughtful. "Word is, the Hero Guild he joined is... strong. Might be the push he needs."

Elexa didn’t respond. She just stood there, staring at the fading sun bleeding over the horizon. The sky crackled faintly with residual electricity.

Only a few days remained until the tournament began.

And she would be there.

With a sharp, confident smile, she whispered to the wind,

"I’m going to win."

Then her gaze burned with excitement.

"And while I’m at it... I’ll see if this ’Fire God’ lives up to the legend."

To be continued...