Kieran's expression, though as much as he tried to hide it, began showing signs of weakness. With the amount of energy he exhausted going against Wendell, plus the additional burden he accepted by battling Daedric, his energy reserves were essentially empty.
Taking a step back, Kieran tugged on his suit jacket, tidying up his somewhat disheveled appearance, including some strands of hair that had fallen below his brow, almost obstructing essential parts of his vision.
He grimaced, looking toward Dr. Riley and the others while opening and closing his hand. By this time, it had gone numb. Even with his lack of expertise, Kieran was sure this hand had suffered extensive damage to the muscle, bone, and tendons.
Daedric's body had proved to be incomparably sturdy.
If not for Kieran's repeated attacks on the same area, breaching his opponent's defense would have taken considerably longer. Perhaps he would have been exhausted by that point.
Off to the side, Jezabelle's smile deepened, her mirthful jubilance continuing to increase. The director revealed a pleased smile in spite of the admitted liability charges the studio could face.
Daedric was a valuable prospect.
Would Apocalypse stoop to that level and target the broadcasting station, a property of an Extreme Magnate Family, for the talented player?
Like Jezabelle mentioned before, Apocalypse was a genuine Behemoth, a league of incredibly talented, fierce, and connected organizations. But even they couldn't contend against the influence of people like the Welsh Family.
"My man! My man! My man!"
The outburst came from Bastion, who, thanks to a mixture of pride in Kieran and disgust toward Daedric, approached with a comical dance. It would have been more impactful and taunting if Daedric were conscious, but it was still hilarious.
Nemean laughed not too far away.
"You of all people should know that the boss comes through on all claims. I'd hate to be on the receiving end of his threats."
While Altair and the others handled the trivial questions Jezabelle began flinging at them, Dr. Riley combed her stunning hair behind her ear, cradling Kieran's arm with careful affection.
Dr. Riley sighed, half disappointed and half concerned. "I should have expected something ridiculous would occur. Look at you. You've really done a number on yourself."
"Oh, you know how this goes. We're new, so we must use every chance available to increase our presence. This was just a message. Some might take it as a declaration of conflict and hold us in contempt, which may lead to us being targeted; others might gain inspiration."
From her expression, it was clear that a myriad of questions flowed through Dr. Riley's mind but she only asked one.
"Is that something you're ready to take on?"
Kieran nodded solemnly with stark confidence.
"Conflict and pressure forge the untempered. We need it. If we're to brave adversity and survive, then minor and consistent conflict is required. So, yes Lillian, this is something I'm prepared for. Those who follow beside me and walk behind must welcome this path."
Dr. Riley placed her hand on Kieran's bruised forearm, deep emotions settling in her eyes.
"That's all I needed to hear. But don't forget you need to be treated when we return. You may heal fast, but you're only standing thanks to that abnormal grit you possess."
A few moments later, Jezabelle approached Kieran, stepping through the crowd of his small entourage. Her interviews with each member were concise, but the viewers learned the names and gained insight into every person he had brought on this short trip.
In particular, Altair garnered the second-greatest response, only slightly inferior to Kieran.
He was the deuteragonist of the player massacre, an amalgam of dreadful precision, soundless terror, and unavoidable death!
Kieran may have earned the title of being godlike in terms of presence, attainments, and demeanor, but Altair was an object of affection. Not because they loved him unconditionally but because they wanted the opportunity to claim that spot.
He was viewed as a friendly nemesis.
And so conflicted emotions—namely adoration and envy—birthed in the hearts of viewers with actual potential. But it was human to harbor those emotions.
No matter how unsightly, faulting them for innate feelings wasn't entirely fair.
Jezabelle's eyes shimmered with intrigue, analyzing Kieran while clutching a clipboard.
"You are a truly fierce fighter. But beneath that ferocity is grace, subtle enough to complement your actions but seem simultaneously absent. I wonder how much fighting you've gone through to attain that level of technique. Are you a battle addict, or… no. Wait, Mr. Silver, I think you should tell us more about yourself."
Kieran looked over Jezabelle, searching for ulterior motives. But unlike before, she didn't reveal deceitful wit and subdued cunning.
She was simply curious.
What experiences had forged this fighter?
Needless to say, Kieran couldn't mention the fact he held roughly ten years of experience under his belt. Before he could answer, he had a question of his own.
"In what regard?"
Jezabelle smiled, momentarily glancing at the beautiful Dr. Riley wrapped around Kieran's arm.
"Well, you know, the makings of a great entertainer, leader, or an influential figure in any capacity is connection. You should definitely speak to your supporters and reveal more about yourself."
Kieran considered it.
"You make a good point, however, revealing too much information is risky. I'd be inviting tragedy if I blatantly or even mistakenly voiced a weakness. That said, I should tell you all more about me."
He gathered his thoughts, his personal experiences—the good, bad, and the ugly—that would resonate the deepest.
"I've grappled with an inexplicable anger for many years of my life. Even as a child, this anger I bear has weaseled its way into my life, meandering past my rationality, leading me to do things I vaguely remember."
Kieran moved his head, looking into the camera with vengeance brewing beneath his mantle of composure.
"Like everyone else, I am human, a victim of uncontrollable emotions. But if you know how to use that which is viewed as a weakness and turn it into a strength, you gain control. I seek that control. I'm sure you all can tell from my celebrated moments that I lack that control."
Going silent for a moment, Kieran lifted his hand and moved his hand to his teammates.
"In this world, I was alone before I met these guys. You could say they're my family. And as I told you guys before, I'm a victim of emotion. If my family is endangered, I'll happily set the ends of the earth ablaze to protect them. That's the kind of person I am. What you see from me isn't my arrogance but rather the overflowing of my primal instinct to protect—protect that which I have toiled to construct."
Genuine and raw emotion rose in Kieran's teammates, especially Bastion, who bit his trembling lip. Not for the reason one would think, though.
ραΠdαsΝοvel.cοm The fool was just too dramatic!
"Oh my god! He's such a saint! Boss, come give me a hug!"
Without awaiting Kieran's response, Bastion dashed up to his and bear-hugged the bruised and unfortunate man, eliciting a low groan.
"I think it's safe to say that even the hardest, coldest, or seemingly aloof individual possesses a soft spot. Take notes, people. Some would say Aatrox has singlehandedly revealed his weakness through a short, touching story. But I think otherwise. I think he has shown why he is and who is not to be… trifled with."
As Jezabelle spoke directly to the camera, Dr. Riley moved, positioning her lips beside Kieran's ear. She whispered:
"Am I also your family?"
"Is that even a question?"
Kieran's expression grew complex, suspecting the direction of this conversation.
"What kind of family then? What if that isn't enough? If I… want something more? Would I still be your family then?"
"I'm…"
Kieran understood what she was asking. Since that fateful night of intoxication, there was a line between them being corroded by emotion.
Still, Kieran was unsure of the answer.
Was a relationship advised? What if it failed? Could he withstand the consequences of a failed relationship?
It held the potential to shatter their bonds apart.
"You don't have to answer that question now. I just… wanted to pose it. That's all. Just give it some thought, yeah? I don't know; maybe you don't have to."
Dr. Riley's voice dropped to a murmur as her hand pressed against Kieran's chest and collarbone.
Kieran shook his head. "I don't think this is the place for this. Let's… talk in private when we get the chance."
The viewers received every message Kieran intended to give in this interview.
As it stood, there was nothing else for him to discuss. And so, Altair and the others took the reins, handling the remainder while Kieran offered minimal input and succinct answers.
Allan, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief, narrowly avoiding fainting from holding his breath too long.
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter