Divine Mask: I Have Numerous God Clones

Zeus listened intently to the murmurs of the disciples around him, piecing together the unsettling details of what had transpired. "The seniors took Lucy to one of those private rooms," he overheard one disciple whisper. "You know, where they settle their... 'business' without anyone interfering."

Zeus's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening as he absorbed the information. The Celestial Academy, for all its prestige, had its own shadowy corners, places where the so-called freedom of its students sometimes led to darker intentions.

As he continued to listen, another rumor reached his ears. "But if a girl puts up a fight on the way... well, they usually end up in the arena," a different voice added, low and ominous.

[Ha! Knowing Lucy's fiery temper, you can bet she didn't go quietly,] the system chimed in, its tone a mix of shameless pride and playful mockery. [You should know exactly where they're heading.]

Zeus's expression hardened further, a steely resolve settling over his features. "Of course," he muttered, his voice laced with determination. "Let's head to the arena."

[That's the spirit! Go rescue the damsel who doesn't need rescuing. I bet she's already given them a taste of her wrath,] the system added, its voice dripping with amusement.

Zeus allowed himself a brief smirk. "She's more than capable, but those fools don't know what they've provoked. Let's make sure they learn their lesson."

With that, he turned on his heel, striding purposefully toward the arena, the system's amused laughter echoing in his mind.

Meanwhile, as Lucy was escorted by the senior disciples, she could feel the tension thickening in the air.

They flanked her on all sides, their presence imposing, their intentions clear without needing to say a word. The way they glanced at her, leering and smirking, made their intentions all too obvious.

One of them finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with arrogance. "You know, you really should be more respectful to your seniors, especially when we're offering you such... special attention."

Lucy's eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. She wasn't about to let them think they had the upper hand. "Respect?" she shot back, her voice cold. "That's earned, not demanded."

The senior who had spoken laughed, a dark, mocking sound. "You've got some spirit. I like that. But it won't help you here."

The others chuckled in agreement, closing in just a little more, as if testing her resolve. They hadn't laid a hand on her yet, but the predatory looks in their eyes spoke volumes.

Lucy's mind raced, weighing her options. She wasn't one to wait around and be cornered. Her gaze flickered over each of them, calculating, and then, without warning, she made her move.

In a flash, her fist shot out, connecting with the jaw of the nearest senior. The force of her punch sent him stumbling backward, his expression shifting from smug to stunned in an instant.

"Get away from me!" she spat, not waiting for their response. In the same breath, she turned and bolted, her feet pounding against the ground as she raced toward the arena, the only place where she could turn the tables on them.

The remaining seniors stood frozen for a split second, shock etched on their faces. The leader of the group recovered first, his surprise quickly morphing into anger.

"After her!" he snarled, and they all took off in pursuit, their frustration boiling over. Their plans for a good time with the beautiful Lucy were unraveling fast, and the thought of her escaping only fueled their rage.

"You're gonna pay for that, girl!" one of them shouted, his voice thick with fury as they closed the distance between them and their fleeing target.

But Lucy didn't look back. Her mind was locked on a single goal: reaching the arena, where she would make them regret ever underestimating her. Her heart pounded with adrenaline, but her resolve was unshakable.

The moment she burst into the arena, she didn't hesitate. "I want to challenge them to a fight," she declared, her voice cutting through the air with a steely determination.

The arena officer, caught off guard by her sudden entrance and bold request, raised an eyebrow. He studied her for a moment, seeing the fire in her eyes, then handed her a form to fill out, detailing the terms of the match.

Just as Lucy was about to finish writing, the senior disciples stormed into the arena, their faces flushed with anger and disbelief. The leader of the group sneered, stepping forward with a mocking grin. "So, you ran here? Of all places, you thought this would save you?"

Lucy met his gaze with unwavering resolve, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I challenge the five of you to a match," she declared, her voice steady and unyielding.

The senior disciples exchanged glances before bursting into laughter, their arrogance dripping from every word. "You want to fight us?" one of them taunted, his voice laced with condescension. "We're among the top hundred disciples here! Do you have any idea who you're up against?"

Lucy didn't flinch. "I don't care who you are," she replied coldly. "You'll all lose to me."

She calmly finished filling out the form, her hand steady as she wrote down the match type. When she handed it back to the officer, he glanced at the paper and then back at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his tone one of genuine concern.

Lucy nodded, her confidence unshaken. "Just make the match between me and the five of them."

The officer sighed, sensing the tension thickening in the arena. "Okay, then," he agreed, knowing there was no point in arguing with someone so resolute.

The senior disciples, still smirking with self-assured arrogance, jeered at her. "We're going to enjoy this," one of them sneered. "You've made it too easy."

But Lucy's gaze remained icy cold, her expression a mask of calm fury. "We'll see who ends up playing with whom," she retorted, her voice low and filled with menace.

The tension in the arena crackled like electricity, both sides preparing for a battle that would leave no room for doubt about who was truly in control.