A rigged Championship Tournament, where the predetermined champion Beckett swept through all competitors with an unbeatable aura, winning by an overwhelming margin.
It was still thirteen against one.
The figure standing proudly in the air crossed his arms over his chest, his icy gaze looking down at the arena that had already turned into ruins. The arrogant, disdainful smile on his lips made the usually silent audience in the stands erupt in screams.
"Celebrate!"
"The birth of a king!"
"The great Son of Titan, the Lord of Chitauri Prime, His Highness Beckett!"
"At this very moment, he has conquered the unknown Sakaar!"
"Any petty tricks are no match for His Highness Beckett's absolute power!"
"Now! Let us cheer for the king of the Sakaar Arena!!!"
The referee at the commentary booth was knocked down by The Other, who wielded a scepter, and then kicked off the stage.
The announcer's voice, more passionate than any referee, stirred every audience member who had snapped out of their shock. The golden-haired figure, standing tall in the void, spread his arms, a smile on his lips, accepting the deafening cheers as if it were his due.
"This guy... he really doesn't miss any opportunity to suck up."
Hela, sitting in a private box with her legs crossed, stood up and stretched lazily.
Despite her dismissive tone, Jennifer and Zola saw a genuine smile on her face.
Not a professional fake smile, but a true one.
"Um, Miss Hela, may I ask, was The Other like this before?"
Even after experiencing the harshness of society, Zola couldn't suppress her innate curiosity. It seemed to be her inherent nature.
Especially after Hela spoke with a tone that sounded like nostalgia.
Hela glanced at the timid Zola as she turned, saying, "That guy was Beckett's loyal lackey back then. He'd celebrate for any reason.
"His celebratory speeches were always remarkably similar, and they got longer and longer, as if he wanted to narrate everything Beckett did."
Recalling what happened in Svartalfheim, Hela's tone immediately turned unfriendly.
Zola, unsure of what she had said wrong, hunched her neck. She didn't dare to speak, nor did she dare to ask.
But, petty tricks?
Hela stepped on the shattered glass fragments on the floor, looking up at the golden-haired figure in the air. She crossed her arms over her chest and curled her lips in disdain:
This guy is the biggest manipulator of all.
Who knew that Thanos and Odin, light-years away, hadn't even thrown their punches yet, and The Grandmaster had already caved this quickly.
The Collector and The Grandmaster, a pair of unfortunate brothers, truly shattered Hela's perception of long-lived beings.
Shouldn't beings who had existed since the dawn of the universe have their dignity and reputation above all else?
They would only admit fault and back down if they absolutely couldn't hold on, like Ego, who had been twitching and numb from Thanos's repeated sword strikes.
Instead, these two brothers were quicker to cower than each other.
"Congratulations, champion of the first Championship Tournament of Sakaar."
The Grandmaster, clad in a golden-bordered robe, slowly appeared before Beckett, his face full of smiles, but to Hela, it looked exceptionally subservient.
"Your strength amazes me, Beckett."
The pre-prepared award stage slowly emerged. After giving his speech, The Grandmaster raised his hands and presented Beckett with the divine ribs he had decided to use as a prize, for him to take home and make soup.
Beckett, seeing The Grandmaster in person for the first time, squinted his eyes. After finishing his congratulatory speech, The Other, standing behind him, understood and stepped forward, taking the tray holding the divine ribs from The Grandmaster's hand.
"Would you like to see your own heroic image?"
Thinking of Thanos's blade, The Grandmaster's smile widened. Disregarding Beckett's impoliteness, he pointed to the stone wall directly in front of the arena stage with his right hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the champion of the first Sakaar Arena Championship Tournament—Beckett!!!!"
The announcer, pouring all his lifelong passion into his voice, had veins bulging on his forehead and saliva spraying. The stone wall, which had been covered by a curtain, finally revealed its mysterious veil!
Beckett's signature hairstyle, with its sharp lines, outlined the faint disdain and pride on the champion's smiling lips.
Like a spirited king, he overlooked the entire arena from the very top of the stone wall!
"How is it?" The Grandmaster expected to see surprise or some other emotion. After all, when it came to entertainment arrangements in this universe, he considered himself the best, with no one daring to claim second place.
But he was disappointed. Beckett showed no reaction to the statue.
None at all.
There was no surprise, no astonishment, nothing The Grandmaster wanted to see. Beckett maintained his usual impassive expression.
This man, how is he different from what Hela said?
Beckett had long been prepared for The Grandmaster to go back on his word. After all, based on what Hela had said and the information Woz could find, he wasn't a man who kept his promises...
Beckett couldn't figure it out, so he gave up thinking and started making soup with the ribs.
And then...
"This is your method?"
Beckett, deciding to inspect the goods on Sakaar at Hela's "kind" reminder, watched Jennifer, who had finally succeeded after considerable effort, with a grim expression.
The bone soup, made from a god's rib and seasoned with simple, common ingredients, smelled incredibly fragrant.
But was there any technical skill involved in this method?
"Of course not, this is just the first step."
Covered in dust, Jennifer pouted, wanting to say something but ultimately holding back. After all, Beckett had won the ribs in the first place.
She bit her fingertip, and azure blood seeped out.
Four gorgeous pendants, condensed from her blood, slowly emitted energy rays that intertwined to form a large net, gradually enveloping the pot of soup.
"Although I don't know why the Grandmaster replaced the finger bone from the prophecy with this rib, the divinity within this thing is much richer than a finger bone."
"So, I decided to change my method."
Flipping the golden hair that dangled over her forehead, Jennifer smiled. Her hands, inscribed with profound magic circles, suddenly clasped together. The god's rib slowly dissolved in the blue flames...
"As we agreed, half for each of us."
The two bone marrows, their divinity locked by the blue flames, regenerated into two large bones, which fell into the pot.
"Alright, drink a bowl of soup first to let your body adapt to the divinity, and then absorb the bone marrow."
The fragrant bone broth filled a large bowl, and drinking it brought immense satisfaction.
Damn it...
Jennifer gritted her teeth, forcing herself to open her eyes.
Even though she had prepared herself, she had clearly underestimated the body's rejection of divinity.
"Beckett, you—"
Jennifer, about to explain that this was a normal reaction, stared in disbelief at Beckett, who had already drunk almost all the soup.
????
"Burp~"
Beckett let out a rare burp.
He was full after drinking just six bowls of soup?
Beckett, encountering this for the first time, raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Snap...
Hela, as surprised as Jennifer, fumbled and dropped the miniature recording device hidden between her fingers onto the floor.
"You're okay???"
Hela's outburst made Beckett realize instantly that she knew about the adaptation period side effects after drinking the soup.
This meant...
Beckett stomped on the miniature recording device, glancing at Jennifer, who had started rolling on the ground.
She! Wanted! To! Record! Him!
"Are you sure your body is normal?" Hela, having been discovered, remained unfazed, her hands clasped behind her back as she subtly took a few steps back.
"Get lost!" Beckett's face darkened.
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