At 3:30 PM, Stamford Bridge Stadium, the match between Chelsea and Arsenal kicked off. Confident and brimming with energy, Mourinho and the Chelsea players let Arsenal and their manager, "The Professor," feel the heat from the very first minute.
The entire match felt less like a football game and more like a full-contact English rugby match.
By the end of the game, Chelsea had two injured players, but Arsenal fared no better—they had lost two players as well. Not only was their attacking and defensive rhythm completely disrupted, but they also ended up losing the match.
In the post-match press conference, Mourinho's bold statements about winning championships pushed "The Professor" over the edge. Unable to hold back his anger any longer, the Arsenal manager not only mocked Mourinho's arrogance and called him a madman but also dragged William into his tirade.
Fortunately, the criticism was limited to William and didn't include Lena. Because of this, William merely smirked and let the matter slide.
But just because William ignored it didn't mean the rest of the world did.
The next morning, fans and journalists were shocked to see the two Chelsea players who had been injured during the match back on the training ground, moving as if nothing had happened.
Rumors quickly spread across England, accusing Chelsea of faking injuries to deceive referees and win sympathy.
Two days later, Chelsea played another match, and once again, the players seemed utterly fearless on the pitch, pressing their opponents relentlessly.
While injuring themselves in the process, they also managed to take down two key players from West Ham United—a team known for its physical style of play. The next morning, the two "injured" Chelsea players were once again seen training as if nothing had happened.
This time, everyone could tell something wasn't normal.
By this point, however, William had already left London and returned to Oxford Castle to prepare for Lena's birthday banquet.
That evening, after finishing a workout session with Ambrosio, who was ecstatic about being invited to the banquet, William waited until she fell asleep before quietly slipping out of bed.
He took the hidden elevator in his bedroom down to the second underground level. Standing on a fully metal platform, he felt a surge of excitement as he said, "Let's begin, Sunday."
"Understood, SIR. Initiating the Mark III armor assembly process."
With a soft whir, the platform beneath William's feet sprang to life. Two gold-plated metallic boots rose from the floor and encased his feet, lifting him slightly off the ground.
Four robotic arms emerged from the walls of the platform and began assembling the armor piece by piece.
In just over ten seconds, accompanied by a series of mechanical clicks and the sound of screws tightening, the segmented helmet closed around William's head. The eyes of the helmet lit up with a brilliant blue glow, completing the assembly of the suit.
Standing on the platform, William—whose physical strength was already ten times that of an average person—flexed his hands, marveling at how the metallic fingers moved as naturally as his own. Feeling the immense power coursing through his body, he instructed Sunday, "Run a full diagnostic on the armor: auxiliary systems, power output, weapons, and all components."
"Understood, SIR."
The Mark III suit hummed softly as its systems ran an automatic self-check.
Ten seconds later, Sunday reported, "SIR, all systems are functioning normally. The auxiliary program, power systems, and weapons are operational. You are cleared for takeoff."
"Open the ceiling hatch," William ordered as he positioned his arms at his sides, palms facing the ground.
"Fwoosh!" A burst of blue energy shot out from the repulsors in his palms and the thrusters in his boots, lifting him smoothly off the platform.
"The hatch is open, SIR."
William tilted his head upward. Thinking about increasing the power output, the suit's neural interface immediately responded.
With a soft "boom," he shot into the sky like a missile, ascending rapidly through the open hatch.
Dozens of triangular drone units, designed for reconnaissance and combat, followed William out of the hatch. Controlled by Sunday, these drones veered off toward the old Devonshire estate several kilometers away, leaving William to continue his ascent.
At an altitude of over 10,000 meters, William spent more than twenty minutes testing the suit's flight capabilities. Once Sunday confirmed the drones were in position, he descended toward the estate.
Hovering several hundred meters above the manor, William asked, "Is the late Earl's widow, Lady Margery, in the estate?"
"No, SIR," Sunday replied confidently. "After receiving your financial assistance, Lady Margery moved to Switzerland with her personal maid. The estate is currently uninhabited by any normal humans."
"Perfect," William said with a smirk. "It's time to meet some of my distant 'relatives.'"
With that, he dived straight toward the manor.
Crashing through several layers of the mansion's ceilings, William landed in the grand living room in a low crouch. Rising to his full height, he scanned the room, his helmet's sensors mapping out the positions of everyone present.
"Who are you to barge into the Devonshire estate like this?" demanded a man dressed as a butler.
Turning toward the source of the voice, William raised his palm. A glowing blue light emanated from the repulsor as he replied, "No, you don't get to claim you're part of the Devonshire family just because you say so. Not without my approval."
"Zzzt!" A low-energy hum sounded as William fired a repulsor blast.
The butler tried to dodge, but the beam was faster. He looked down at the smoldering hole in his chest, disbelief and fear etched across his face.
"Y-You… William Devonshire?" he stammered.
"That's right," William replied coldly. Taking two large strides forward, he grabbed the butler by the neck and growled, "You filthy mutts should've stayed in the shadows where you belong. How dare you spy on my castle and threaten my mother?"
"Mutts?" The butler's eyes narrowed. He snarled at the others in the room, "Kill him! He knows our secret. Either he dies, or he joins us!"
With a guttural roar, the butler transformed. Black veins spread across his face, his nostrils flared, and fangs protruded from his mouth as thick fur began to cover his body.
"Roar!" Now a fully transformed werewolf, the butler slashed at William's chest.
But instead of ripping through the armor, his claws merely scratched the paint. The force of the strike caused his claws to snap off, leaving him howling in pain.
"Roar, roar, roar!" A chorus of growls erupted behind William as more werewolves began their transformations.
The Mark III's shoulder compartments opened automatically, revealing a rack of six mini-missiles.
"Thwip, thwip, thwip!" The missiles launched toward the charging werewolves.
"Boom, boom, boom!" The explosions echoed through the room, leaving the decapitated bodies of the werewolves scattered on the floor.
"Sunday, report," William said.
"Spider drones have detected a large number of werewolves emerging from the estate's underground levels," Sunday informed him.
William threw the struggling werewolf in his grasp to the floor, stomping on its back to pin it down. "How many cells are available in the Yellowstone facility for containing these mutts?"
"After reinforcing the existing cells with engineering drones, we can securely hold up to fifteen individuals," Sunday replied.
"Good," William said with a smirk. "Looks like we won't be short on test subjects after today."
Raising his hand, he gestured in a circular motion. A glowing portal materialized next to him. With a swift kick, he sent the werewolf on the ground hurtling through the portal.
On the other side, pre-programmed robots fired taser rounds at the stunned werewolf, incapacitating it before dragging it into a reinforced cell.
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