CHAPTER 315: CHAPTER 315 SECRET

"You must be Felix Osprey—the man they say can crush stones with his bare hands," Riley remarked, his tone carrying equal parts curiosity and challenge.

His gaze traveled over the man before him, taking in the broad shoulders, the thick arms, the sheer size that made him stand out in any crowd.

"Judging by your build, I can see those rumors may not be so far-fetched. But since you seem to doubt the things I’ve done, I’ll grant you the chance to test them yourself. What do you say? Do you dare accept a friendly match?"

A hush fell over those nearby, all eyes shifting toward Felix.

His lips curled into a grin that revealed more malice than amusement.

"That’s what I’ve been waiting for all along," he growled, his voice carrying a rough edge that promised violence.

"I’ll smash that handsome face of yours until the only thing my cousin Aurora remembers when she looks at you is how utterly I defeated you today."

With deliberate force, Felix stood.

His sheer size cast a shadow over Riley, his height and bulk making him appear more beast than man.

Yet Riley remained unmoved, his expression calm, almost amused, as if the threat meant little to him.

The tension in the air grew thick, and soon the crowd around them began to shift, men and women alike stepping back to form a wide circle.

Anticipation ran wild through the gathering—every spectator eager to see who would prevail.

Whispers rose: Who’s stronger? Who will fall?

The atmosphere buzzed with the kind of excitement that only came when pride, strength, and honor were about to collide.

"No weapons, Riley," Alexander’s voice cut through the noise, steady and commanding.

He sat upright, his expression stern, leaving no doubt that he would tolerate no unnecessary bloodshed—not here, not now.

This was a celebration, not a battlefield.

Riley glanced toward his father, his lips curving into a confident smile.

"Of course, Father. We wouldn’t want to disgrace ourselves by embarrassing our guests too badly." His words dripped with pride, his tone mocking just enough to make the crowd stir with laughter and murmurs.

Felix clenched his fists, the crack of his knuckles echoing like the prelude to a storm.

Riley merely rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles as though this were nothing more than a warm-up.

Both men now stood within the circle, eyes locked, each refusing to look away.

The crowd held its breath, the weight of expectation pressing down on every heart.

Two men. One challenge. No weapons. Only strength, pride, and the will to stand victorious.

"Ready to sleep, boy?" Felix sneered, his teeth flashing in a wolfish grin.

Without waiting for a reply, he lunged forward like a mad beast unleashed from its cage.

His massive frame thundered across the ground, every stomp rattling the air with raw intent.

His goal was clear to all who watched: drive Riley to the ground and pummel his handsome face until it was nothing but ruin.

But to defeat Riley Rice was a task beyond reach, no less absurd than plucking the stars from the heavens or turning stone into gold.

Whoosh!

Riley’s body blurred.

In the span of a heartbeat, he shifted aside, his movement so quick and precise that many in the crowd gasped aloud, unsure if their eyes had deceived them.

Felix, heavy and committed to his charge, cut through empty space like a raging bull striking only the wind.

Riley’s hand moved before the spectators could even process his dodge.

With the fluid grace of a practiced executioner, he brought his palm down in a swift, brutal arc—striking the thick column of Felix’s neck.

Bang!

The sound of the blow echoed like a thunderclap, and the giant’s body froze mid-motion before collapsing with the weight of a felled oak.

Dust and dirt puffed up from the ground as Felix hit, limbs splayed, his mighty frame rendered powerless in an instant.

The circle erupted in chaos.

Gasps, shouts, and murmurs collided in the air as people craned their necks to see if the rumor-born titan truly lay unconscious after a single strike.

Some clutched their mouths in disbelief.

Others whispered Riley’s name in awe, as if watching a legend carve itself into reality.

"Felix!" The desperate cry of a woman tore through the din, sharp and breaking.

All eyes shifted as she shoved past the crowd, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror.

Judging by the anguish in her voice, she was blood to him—perhaps a sister, perhaps more.

"Help him!" she screamed again, her voice cracking, demanding rather than pleading.

An elderly man, dignified but swift despite his age, moved from the crowd and knelt beside Felix’s sprawling frame.

He pressed two fingers to the thick cord of Felix’s neck, the silence that followed heavier than any shout.

For several breaths, the world seemed to hold still, every onlooker waiting, praying—or dreading—the result.

Finally, the old man exhaled and gave a firm nod. "He lives."

A collective sigh rippled through the crowd.

Relief washed over some, disappointment over others, but all agreed on one thing: Felix Osprey had been thoroughly humbled.

Meanwhile, Riley stood calm in the center of the circle, his expression unruffled, his breathing steady as if he had merely swatted a fly.

Confidence radiated from him, unshaken and unbent, and the way his eyes swept across the gathering made it clear: the outcome had never been in doubt.

"You have a fine son, Clan Head Alexander. He will lead your clan well in the future," remarked the elderly man sitting at Alexander’s side.

His voice carried the weight of experience, calm yet edged with sincerity.

This was the envoy of the Osprey Clan—the elder who had personally escorted Aurora and the rest of her clansmen to this occasion.

The true clan head of the Ospreys, however, was conspicuously absent.

He was far from a careless man.

Such gatherings, while important, were also dangerous in their way; the mingling of clans always carried hidden risks, whether in the form of rivalries, accidents, or sudden disputes.

Sending himself would have been a show of pride, yes, but also one of recklessness.

Instead, he had sent this elder, a shrewd man with a steady hand, to represent him and ensure the marriage alliance was sealed without incident.

For the Ospreys, this was both a gesture of respect and a measure of caution—two traits that had kept their clan standing strong for centuries.

Alexander inclined his head in acknowledgment, though the faintest of smiles crossed his face.

"I thank you for your kind words. My son is indeed strong and talented, but..." He trailed off deliberately, his voice lowering so that only those closest could hear.

"He has a tendency to grow distracted—too often drawn into his other pursuits. Still, he never fails to surprise me in the end."

The Osprey elder chuckled softly, his expression betraying nothing.

He had seen many such sons—young men of strength and arrogance, prideful because they had the talent to match.

Whether Riley would grow into a wise leader or remain a reckless youth was yet to be seen.

Still, his victory over Felix was undeniable, and that strength alone was a statement no words could make.

Around them, murmurs filled the venue.

Guests whispered to one another, their voices rippling like waves: some in awe of Riley’s effortless victory, others in disbelief at how quickly the Osprey prodigy had fallen.

Felix’s name carried weight in his clan; his strength had been well-known, his temper infamous.

To see him felled in less than ten breaths was a humiliation that would not be forgotten soon.

Two men carried Felix away, his great bulk slumped like a fallen oak.

His head lolled limply to the side, his mouth slightly open, and his once-proud figure now looked pitiful in its helplessness.

Some sneered at the sight, others shook their heads in pity, but all agreed on one thing: when Felix awoke, it would be with a splitting headache and a shame he could never wash away.

The woman who had cried out for him earlier stood silently now, her hands clenched white as she watched her kin being carried off.

She did not speak again, but the look in her eyes promised resentment that might linger long after this night.

Through it all, Riley stood in the center of the circle as if nothing extraordinary had occurred.

His breathing was steady, his posture relaxed, and though his lips carried only the faintest trace of a smirk, it was enough to show the crowd what he already knew—his dominance had been unquestionable.

His eyes flicked briefly toward Aurora, and though he said nothing, Aurora knew that he was once again checking out her sexy body.

The Osprey elder noticed this but remained outwardly composed.

Instead, he stroked his beard and said,

"Strength is a fine thing for a leader, but wisdom must come with it. A clan cannot be guided by fists alone."

Alexander gave no answer to that, though the weight in his gaze suggested he agreed.

Still, pride swelled within him; his son had not only proven himself before their guests but had done so decisively.