Man With Super Medical Skill (Matthew)

Orla's words struck Toliver like a thunderclap, reverberating in his mind with an intensity he couldn't shake. Cold sweat soaked his back as he stood frozen in place.

She wasn't just speaking to him-she was reminding him not to focus on the surface. A wave of unease and realization washed over him. He nodded, his voice steady but heavy. "I'll remember your guidance, governor."

Orla picked up a plum from the table with delicate fingers, popping it into her mouth. The sweet and sour taste made her squint slightly in pleasure.

"Mm... go prepare," she said casually as if the matter were insignificant.

Prepare?

Toliver looked up, confusion clouding his eyes as he glanced at Orla.

"We're going to the deathmatch tonight, and of course," she replied casually, "not in my role as the governor."

He hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Governor, isn't there some risk in us going together? The Deathmatch arena has always been the Viper Crew's stronghold. It might be dangerous for us to walk in uninvited, don't you think?"

She shook her head, a playful smile curving her lips. "If I went as the island's governor, tonight's spectacle wouldn't be nearly as interesting," she replied, implying there was more to it.

Toliver hesitated but quickly nodded. "Understood, governor. I'll prepare right away."

He turned to leave, and Orla remained seated in the living room, absentmindedly placing another plum in her mouth.

"Interesting..." she murmured, her gaze distant.

As night fell, the lights of Ore Island came alive in a dazzling array of colors.

At the southernmost tip of the island stood the deathmatch arena, designed in an ancient Roman style. Seating arranged in a circle surrounded the arena, rising from bottom to top, allowing spectators to get a clear view from every angle. In the center lay the blood-soaked arena floor, its dark red soil releasing the faint, unmistakable scent of blood-standing in sharp contrast to the surrounding white and yellow buildings.

Dominic stood arrogantly at the center of the arena, his chest bare. Before him lay a lifeless, blood-soaked body-his warm-up, using the corpse of an unfortunate soul as his punching bag.

The stands were already packed with spectators, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the mysterious Matteo. The question on everyone's mind was whether he would show up to face Dominic, who had issued the challenge, or if he would bow to the Viper Crew's threats. Suddenly, murmurs rippled through the crowd, followed by a growing buzz of excitement.

A voice from the crowd broke the tension.

"Clad in white, looking sharp-it's Matteo!"

"He's here to face the challenge!"

"I thought he might be too afraid to show up against Dominic."

"Not necessarily. Maybe he's scared of Dominic's threats and came here to throw his life away!"

Slowly, Matteo stepped into the arena, his gaze calm as he locked eyes with Dominic. His white outfit

stood out starkly against the dark

red soil beneath him-two extremes colliding. The sight was so striking that the crowd fell into a stunned in the

silence, momentarily lost

scene.

For a brief moment, the audience

forgot where they were-the Western Montiria Islands, a notorious gray zone known

worldwide. At this place, even the most wanted criminals could walk freely, untouched by the law

How dare he wear white in a place like this-the heart of the gray zone?

Dominic grinned savagely as he saw Matteo approach.

"Matteo," he sneered, "I thought you'd be too scared to show up!"

Matteo didn't respond. His silence speaks volumes; his calm demeanor seemed to speak louder than words ever could.

Dominic's face twisted with fury. His

rage burned in his eyes, but what caught his attention wasn't just the anger-it was the look in Matteo's eyes.

It wasn't fear. It wasn't even a challenge.

It was disdain.

It wasn't that Matteo looked down on him. No, it was worse than that.

Matteo's eyes didn't even acknowledge him at all.

Even though they were about to face off in a life-or-death battle, Dominic wasn't even a blip on Matteo's radar.

That feeling was something Dominic hadn't experienced in years.

Everyone had feared him ever since he made a name for himself, cowering at the mere thought of angering him.

As he stood facing Matteo, Dominic's face twisted into a snarl, his eyes burning with uncontrollable rage.

"Die!"