Rise of the Masked King

Chapter 8: The Masked Arrival

Anthony was still staring at his phone when it buzzed again. It was the doctor.

“Sir,” the doctor said quickly, his voice trembling, “your stepfather and mother are still waiting. The time limit on the medication is almost over. If I delay any further, he will not make it.”

Anthony said nothing. He listened to the doctor’s words fade into silence, then calmly ended the call.

He stood there for a while, motionless. His reflection on the mirror beside the wall looked cold and distant. Outside, the city lights flickered like scattered diamonds, but his thoughts were elsewhere—between vengeance and mercy.

Minutes later, a sharp knock broke the silence. The door opened, and Liora stepped in, radiant as ever. Her gown shimmered under the light, perfectly fitted, every thread designed to command attention. Behind her, Vionna followed, her presence magnetic, her beauty effortless. The moment they entered, the air in the room shifted.

Liora gave a little twirl, flashing her new car key in Anthony’s face before wrapping him in a tight hug. “Look what I got!” she said with a bright grin.

Anthony smiled faintly. “Congratulations.”

Fenrick, now stepping out of his room, whistled. “Wow, someone’s clearly enjoying success.”

Liora laughed. “You’re just jealous.”

After Fenrick finished dressing, he asked, “So, are you coming with us, Anthony?”

Anthony nodded slowly. “Yes, but I need to get something first. You all go ahead. I’ll meet you there.”

Vionna studied his face but said nothing. They left together, laughter trailing behind them as they disappeared into the cool night.

Anthony returned to the mirror, adjusting his cufflinks. His phone buzzed again. It was the doctor. This time, he picked up.

“Give him the medication,” Anthony said quietly.

The doctor immediately obeyed. When he entered the hospital room, Oscar was already on the edge of death. His skin had grown pale, veins darkened, and his breathing was slow and heavy. His wife sat beside him, tears streaking her cheeks.

The doctor injected the medication swiftly, watching as the machines began to stabilize. Oscar’s eyes flickered open.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he turned to his wife. “Someone wants me dead,” he murmured. His voice was dry, weak, but steady. “I will find out who.”

Back at the university, the night had transformed into something dazzling. The King and Queen of ASU event was in full swing. The entire campus glowed beneath rows of golden lights, cameras flashing, music vibrating through every corner of the hall.

By the time Vionna, Liora, and Fenrick arrived, the place was packed. Laughter, music, and luxury filled the air. Every student seemed to shine, each one desperate to outdo the next.

Prominent dignitaries filled the front rows. The president himself was there, along with the vice president—Vionna’s father—who had donated heavily to the school. Reporters moved among the crowd, capturing every angle of glamour.

One by one, the competitors began to arrive, each entrance more spectacular than the last. Darren, Henry, and Noah were already scheming behind the scenes. They had quietly hired a mafia group to keep an eye on Anthony when he showed up.

The event’s program director took the stage, his voice booming through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “welcome to the grandest night in All Stars University’s history! Tonight, we celebrate beauty, power, and excellence. But before we begin—expect someone greater. A guest unlike any other.”

The students whispered among themselves, wondering who he meant.

He continued by introducing the contestants. After several names were called, it was Darren’s turn.

The moment Darren stepped into the spotlight, the entire hall erupted. His suit, crafted with diamond-styled fabric, shimmered under the stage lights. Olivia, his new girlfriend, wore a matching gown—silver, sparkling, breathtaking. They waved, and the audience cheered as if royalty had arrived.

After them, Noah appeared. His attire was bold and commanding, the air around him filled with quiet arrogance. Students exchanged glances, murmuring about how difficult it would be to decide between Darren and Noah.

Then came Henry and Joanna. Joanna’s gown glistened like liquid gold, while Henry’s perfectly tailored suit was accented with a platinum pin bearing his company’s insignia. The crowd gasped as flashes from the cameras painted their faces in white light.

When it was Vionna’s turn, the entire mood changed.

The moment she appeared, the hall fell silent, followed by an echo of admiration that spread like a wave. Her dress, a cascade of silk and light, seemed to breathe with her every step. Her beauty was effortless—classic, poised, and impossible to ignore. Even the older guests found themselves drawn to her.

Fenrick leaned over to Liora. “I think we have a winner already.”

Liora smiled. “You might be right.”

After Vionna, Jimmy and Jackson took the stage together, but few paid attention. Their confidence looked pale compared to what had come before.

Meanwhile, Darren’s hired men watched the entrances closely. Anthony had not arrived, and that made them uneasy.

Once the coordinator finished calling the names, the DJ took over. The lights dimmed, the bass dropped, and the crowd moved as one. Heads nodded, bodies swayed, and laughter returned. It was time for the main event.

The coordinator returned to the stage. “Gentlemen,” he said with a grin, “it’s time to choose your queens!”

The male contestants walked forward one by one, each choosing their partner. Cheers followed every selection. Darren immediately picked Olivia. Noah, not to be outdone, chose a model from the Fashion Club. Henry extended his hand to Joanna with a smug smile.

In the end, only Vionna was left. Every guy had already chosen, though most had argued among themselves about who would dare approach her.

Seeing her alone, the coordinator laughed nervously. “Well, it seems our beautiful Miss Vionna will be performing solo tonight!”

The crowd cheered.

The first set of contestants performed, dazzling the judges with energy and grace. The second set followed, equally impressive. Then came the name everyone had been waiting for—Darren and Olivia.

Their entrance was dramatic. A spotlight followed them as they walked down the stage like movie stars. The DJ matched the rhythm perfectly, playing their signature song. The students screamed their names, chanting and waving banners. Their performance was flawless—synchronized, glamorous, confident. By the time they finished, it was clear everyone thought they had already won.

Next came Henry and Joanna. Their act was elegant and captivating, their chemistry visible even from the back of the hall. When their turn ended, many whispered that they might have just surpassed Darren and Olivia.

Backstage, Vionna stood ready for her turn, unaware of what was happening behind her. Joanna had quietly slipped into her dressing room, pretending to fix her makeup. In reality, she bent over Vionna’s bag, her fingers moving fast.

She snapped the heel of one shoe and tore a corner of her gown, hiding the damage perfectly. Then she left, smiling to herself.

Moments later, Vionna was called. Her fans screamed her name as she stepped onto the stage, her confidence shining.

Then, tragedy struck.

Halfway to the front, one of her heels broke. She stumbled, gasps echoing across the hall. Cameras flashed, students shouted. Her gown ripped slightly at the side, and she was about to fall when a hand caught her from behind.

The crowd went silent.

A man stood behind her, dressed in black, his face covered by a silver mask. His presence alone demanded attention.

He held her steady, his grip firm, his aura calm.

The music stopped. Every light in the hall seemed to find him.

No one knew who he was.

But Vionna did not need to ask.

Somehow, in that moment, she knew exactly who had come.