Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Zeus stood in the center of the arena, his eyes shifting between the elders, their offers still hanging in the air like fragile promises. The crowd had fallen into a tense silence, every pair of eyes watching, waiting for his response. But Zeus took his time, soaking in the moment.

Despite the elders' flowery words and grand gestures, Zeus saw through their thin veneer of politeness. There was something else lurking behind those smiles—an unease they were trying to hide.

"They're desperate to have me," Zeus mused, his smirk barely contained, "but something's off. They're not as thrilled as they're pretending to be."

[Of course they're not,] the system chimed in, its voice dripping with arrogant amusement. [They know how dangerous you are. They want you, sure, but not for your benefit—for theirs.]

[They need to keep you close, to control you. Otherwise, they know what you'll become—someone far more powerful than them.]

Zeus let out a quiet chuckle, barely audible over the tense silence of the arena. "I know," he thought, his eyes flickering toward Elder Roxana, who had yet to make her move. "But I want to see what the youngest and strongest elder has to offer. She's been silent this whole time."

As if sensing the perfect moment, a powerful surge of aura erupted from Roxana Volcaria, filling the entire arena.

The pressure was immediate and overwhelming, like standing in the heart of a volcano just before it erupted. Zeus felt it crash over him, raw and untamed, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

Even the other elders, who had been bickering over him just moments ago, fell silent. Their words died on their tongues as Roxana rose from her seat, her gaze locked firmly on Zeus.

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Her presence alone demanded attention, and the air around her seemed to shimmer with a fiery energy, crackling as if ready to ignite at any moment.

"Zeus!" Roxana's voice boomed across the arena, her tone as fierce as her presence. It wasn't a request; it was a command. Every word was heavy with power, exuding a confidence that dared anyone to challenge her. "Join me."

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Her voice reverberated through the stands, its authority unmistakable. There was no hesitation, no weakness. Roxana Volcaria was the kind of person who didn't ask for anything—she took what she wanted. Her aura flared brighter, radiating like molten lava, hot and volatile.

She glanced around briefly, acknowledging the other elders, before her intense gaze settled back on Zeus.

"I may not specialize in weapon crafting or potion making," she admitted, her tone unwavering. "I'm not an expert in thunder or wind elements, nor do I focus on physical strength training like some."

Her fiery eyes narrowed slightly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But let me tell you one thing—if you join me, I will personally train you."

The arena was still, hanging on her every word. Zeus could feel the weight of her gaze, the promise of her power. There was no boasting in her tone, no need for embellishment. Roxana didn't need to convince anyone; she was merely stating a fact.

"The other elders," she continued, her voice steady but sharp as she cast a pointed glance at her peers, "already have their hands full. They've taken on plenty of disciples, dividing their time and focus."

She paused, her expression hardening with a fierce determination. "But I have none. If you choose me, you will be my sole disciple. My only focus. I will make sure you reach your true potential."

Zeus could feel the tension mounting among the other elders, their faces tightening as Roxana made her bold declaration. The air was thick with unspoken challenges, but none of them moved.

Their instincts screamed at them to push back, to refute her claim, but the moment they saw Roxana's smile—a fierce, almost predatory grin—they hesitated.

Though all five elders were 8-star warriors, Roxana was different. Her aura had a certain weight to it, one that didn't just demand respect—it commanded it.

It was as if her very presence dared them to challenge her, to try and stake a claim on Zeus, knowing full well they wouldn't have the nerve to do so.

Elder Aric Valen opened his mouth, ready to speak, but as soon as Roxana's eyes locked onto his, he shut it just as quickly. His usual confidence faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Elder Sylph Margrave, who was never one to be outdone, simply exchanged a glance with Thorne Arcturus, both of them silently agreeing not to provoke Roxana further.

Elder Darius watched quietly, his fingers tapping against his armrest, but even he wasn't eager to stir the pot.

For a moment, the arena was silent, the tension palpable as the elders exchanged wary glances. No one wanted to cross Roxana. Her reputation as a fiery, untamable force of nature was well known, and it was clear they didn't want to test her. Not now. Not when she had already staked her claim.

Satisfied with the silence that followed her declaration, Roxana leaned back, her fierce smile never faltering. She kept her eyes on Zeus, her confidence unwavering. "Now," she said, her voice low but commanding, "which one will you choose, Zeus?"

The entire arena seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Zeus's response. Roxana's aura still lingered in the air, like the heat from a smoldering fire, but Zeus didn't flinch. He stood tall, his smirk growing wider as he met her gaze.

He had felt the raw, untamed power behind her words, the undeniable strength in her presence. But more than that, there was something wild in Roxana's spirit, something that called to him in a way the other elders couldn't match.

Roxana's smile deepened when she saw his reaction, her eyes glinting with a knowing look. She had felt something in Zeus too—something raw, something untamed that mirrored her own nature.

She didn't need to speak again; the message was clear in the way they locked eyes. Zeus was no ordinary disciple, and she wasn't offering him an ordinary path. She was offering him something far more dangerous and thrilling.