My Milf System-Chapter 190. Shall we begin?

The school arena was packed to the brim—louder, rowdier, and more chaotic than ever before. No surprise, really. It was the finals, and the energy was explosive. Fans of Lorraine Alvado were clashing with Asher Reynolds’ supporters—mostly loud, hyped-up guys who treated the whole thing like a music concert rather than a duel.

But even in the middle of all that excitement, a different buzz rippled through the stands. Whispers. Gossip. Everyone was still talking about the bizarre incident during Asher’s previous match with Adrian—the way women had suddenly rushed the stage to cheer Asher on, only to look dazed minutes later, confused about why they were there in the first place.

Questions hung heavy in the air. But did anyone have the guts to actually ask Asher about it? Not a chance.

If Liloth hadn’t been tamed, Asher knew damn well she’d have stormed down and roughed him up in front of everyone, demanding answers like a wild beast. But today, Liloth looked... different. She was seated beside the Duke again, but this time her usual lifeless expression was gone. Her eyes sparkled with vitality. She kept stealing glances at Asher and flashing small, knowing smiles.

Now that he was up against her daughter, Asher couldn’t help but wonder—who was she rooting for?

Next to them, Priestess Seraphina sat elegantly in her seat, eyes locked on him with a look of detached boredom. He figured she was salty that he hadn’t "checked her up" as promised yesterday. What could he say? The guy had been busy.

Adrian had brought Asher’s "waifus" from his realm again, all of them excited and claiming they wouldn’t miss a final like this of their master.

Then the busty commentator stepped forward and kicked things off with her trademark flair.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! THE FIRST-YEAR FINAL TOURNAMENT MATCH BEGINS!!! IN THIS CORNER, WE HAVE OUR GIRL—LORRAINE ALVADO! AND IN THE OTHER... THE FIRST MAN TO EVER MAKE IT THIS FAR... ASHER REYNOLDS! BUT THE QUESTION IS—CAN HE REALLY WIN?!"

"HELL YEAH!!" roared Asher’s fans.

"BOOOOOO!!" Lorraine’s fans countered, flashing thumbs down like angry villagers.

Flyers and banners shot into the air. Betting boards popped up even among the teachers and senior hunters. He spotted Sharon wagering everything she had and then flashing him a thumbs-up. He smirked and winked right back.

Asher was the first called to the stage. With hands tucked in his pockets and swagger in his step, he strolled into the arena like he owned the damn place. Because in his head? He did.

He waited with an amused grin as Lorraine was called in. Her fans practically worshipped the ground she walked on.

"Hit him with your summon!!"

"Use the Verdant Dread on this brat!"

"I bet my week’s pay on you!"

Asher chuckled under his breath, watching the hysteria unfold.

Verdant Dread, huh? He thought. Wonder if I can copy that skill. Doesn’t it need some contract or whatever with the summon? Eh—who cares. I already know its weakness is fire. Saw that when she fought Anna. Won’t be much of a challenge.

Lorraine stood across from him, dead serious. Her eyes screamed murder.

The referee stepped up, reminding them of the one and only rule—stop if your opponent surrenders.

As if I’d ever do that, Asher thought, rolling his eyes.

The whistle blew.

Without missing a beat, Lorraine launched orbs of water bombs at him.

Asher didn’t even flinch. Hands still in his pockets, a casual wind barrier flickered in front of him.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed. "Is that the best you’ve got? Don’t waste your fragile mana on kindergarten tricks. Go ahead, sweetheart—summon your trump card already."

Lorraine’s expression twisted with rage. "I hate you!!"

"I know," Asher replied, flashing a grin that could make saints swear. "I hate you too. But I know exactly how long your next spell takes to cast, so don’t worry. I’ll even let you finish it. Free of charge."

"You bastard! You’re underestimating me!" she snarled.

Instead of answering, Asher yawned and laid flat on the arena floor, hands behind his head, letting the morning sun warm his skin. He waved lazily in her direction.

"Hurry up before I fall asleep. Seriously."

The crowd erupted—some in laughter, others in shocked gasps. A few even muttered that he was pushing his luck and would definitely regret it.

The commentator’s voice nearly cracked with disbelief.

"YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE THIS! ASHER REYNOLDS IS ACTUALLY TAKING A NAP DURING A FINAL MATCH! DOES HE HAVE AN ACE UP HIS SLEEVE?! THE CURIOSITY IS KILLING ME!"

But Asher had no ace up his sleeve.

He didn’t need one.

All he had was unshakable faith—in himself. And honestly? If this were a death match, one move would be all it took. A single scalpel, charged with his PP, would be enough to punch a hole straight through Lorraine’s stomach like butter.

Lorraine, meanwhile, kept shooting him confused glances. What was going through his head? He just lay there, unfazed, like this wasn’t the finals of the biggest first-year tournament in school history. But seeing an opening, she wasted no time. She began the incantation for her trump card: the Verdant Dread.

Even though the crowd had seen this summon before, the moment it emerged again—towering and monstrous—everyone felt that pulse of dread crawling down their spines.

The crowd reacted instantly:

"This kid’s toast!" "Should’ve just forfeited and saved us all the drama!" "Easy money! I’m raking in a fortune today for betting for Lorraine. "

The Verdant Dread released a guttural growl. Its bark-like skin begining to leak its black sap that sizzled into the ground like acid, smoke rising where it landed. The whole arena reeked of rot and impending doom.

Asher, still lounging on the ground like he was sunbathing at the beach, smirked.

"Come on. Bring it on already."

He wasn’t stalling—he was testing. Curious how much punishment his barrier could take before cracking. That was the only reason he hadn’t moved a muscle. Last time, the elves shattered it with their arrows. Though he had tried strengthening it, he needed to know how far had it improved when up against strong forces.

Lorraine, furious with his blatant disrespect, snapped as she ordered the Verdant Dread’s twisted branches to lash out all at once. They struck Asher dead-on—an explosive collision that sent dust and debris roaring into the air. The ground trembled. The sound of impact echoed like thunder across the packed arena.

Anna, watching from the stands, clutched her necklace, eyes wide with panic. Her heart raced—what if something had actually happened to him? Around her, the crowd erupted in gasps and nervous murmurs.

"That’s it. He’s done!" "No way he survived that." "If he walks out of there in one piece, I’ll eat my boots."

But inside the dust cloud, within the still-active barrier, Asher calmly counted the seconds.

One twenty-five... one twenty-eight... Crack!

Tiny fractures began to shimmer across the surface of his barrier like spiderwebs.

He clicked his tongue. "Tch. 128 seconds?. Still not enough. Gotta work on that."

With a lazy sigh, Asher stood up. He pressed both palms against the Verdant Dread’s writhing branches—then surged a pulse of concentrated fire straight into them. The creature screeched in agony as flames surged through its limbs, blackened branches flailing backward as if scorched by divine punishment.

Asher stepped out through the smoke like a devil rising from hell. He deactivated his barrier, rolled his shoulders with a crack, and slammed his knuckles together with a grin.

"Well then..."

He tilted his head toward Lorraine, smugness dripping from every syllable.

"Shall we actually begin now?"

TBC