Shadow Husband:I Have a Hidden SSS-Class System-Chapter 69: CHAMPION TRIALS BEGIN

The press conference at 10 AM was a calculated display of power.

Eternal Bond’s main hall, transformed into a media venue. Fifty journalists, cameras, livestream equipment. Three hundred guild members standing as unified presence behind the leadership table.

Sekar sat center stage, full Guild Master regalia, projecting absolute authority. Rama beside her, Champion aura subtly active, looking every bit the Level 50 powerhouse. Hendra (Vice GM) on her other side, Sri and Johan flanking.

United front. Unbreakable guild. Clear message.

Sekar began without preamble.

"Thank you for coming. I’m addressing recent rumors and making several announcements regarding Eternal Bond’s strategic direction." Her voice carried authority, no hesitation. "First—Champion Rama Kusuma. My husband. Our strategic coordinator. The man who led our raid team to a perfect clear, zero deaths, record time."

She paused, letting cameras focus.

"There have been questions about his abilities. Suggestions that he’s using classified guides instead of legitimate System perception. Claims that he refuses outside verification." Her expression hardened. "These rumors originate from rival guilds who attempted recruitment and were rejected. When they couldn’t acquire our Champion through legitimate means, they resorted to discrediting him."

Murmurs from the journalists. Cameras clicking.

"Let me be absolutely clear. Rama Kusuma is a legitimate Level 50 System Champion with prophetic perception abilities granted by the System. His coordination of our perfect clear was witnessed by thirty hunters, documented by guild systems, verified by independent dungeon completion records. The achievement is real. The abilities are real. The claims are real."

A journalist raised her hand. "Guild Master, Dragon’s Gate offered neutral verification. Why was it refused?"

"Because my husband’s abilities aren’t a circus performance for rival guilds. He coordinates for Eternal Bond. He prepares our teams for the void threat. He’s not available for verification tests designed as recruitment opportunities." Sekar leaned forward. "And let me be even clearer—Rama Kusuma is not available for recruitment. Period. He’s Eternal Bond’s strategic asset. My husband. Committed to our guild and our mission. No amount of salary, no amount of pressure, no amount of rumor campaigns will change that."

The possessiveness was obvious. Public. Intentional.

"Second announcement," Sekar continued. "Champion trials begin in one week. We have forty candidates selected from eighty-seven volunteers. These trials carry fifteen to twenty percent mortality risk. Participants understand this. Families have been informed. Legal waivers are signed."

Another journalist spoke up. "Fifteen to twenty percent mortality? That’s—"

"That’s the cost of becoming Champions," Rama interjected, his first words. "The System grants extraordinary power, but the trials to unlock it are dangerous. Some candidates will die. We’ve been transparent about this from the beginning. But those who survive become Champions—individuals capable of coordinating teams to perfect execution, perceiving threats before they manifest, saving hundreds of lives through superior abilities."

"And the void threat?" a third journalist asked. "The Level 73 entity you claim arrives in thirty-three days?"

"It’s not a claim. It’s a prophecy verified by the System." Rama activated his interface, projecting the countdown for cameras. "Thirty-three days until the Herald arrives. A void entity capable of destroying cities. Without Champions, without preparation, millions die. With Champions, with coordinated defense—we win."

"Can you prove this prophecy?"

"In thirty-three days, when the Herald materializes exactly as predicted, the proof will be self-evident. Until then, we prepare. Those who believe join our trials. Those who don’t—" He shrugged. "—they’ll understand when it’s too late."

Sekar took over again. "Third announcement. Eternal Bond is implementing strict policies regarding our Champion. No outside contracts. No consultations with rival guilds. No guest appearances. No collaborations. Rama coordinates exclusively for Eternal Bond. This policy is non-negotiable."

"Isn’t that restrictive? What if other guilds need his abilities for void preparation?"

"Other guilds can create their own Champions through trials. The process is replicable. The knowledge is shareable. We’re not hoarding capabilities—we’re building them. Any guild that wants Champions can run trials. We’ll even share screening protocols and safety procedures." Sekar’s expression sharpened. "What we won’t share is my husband. He stays with Eternal Bond. Permanently."

The yandere energy was palpable. But also strategically sound—making recruitment attempts politically costly.

A journalist from a known Dragon’s Gate-friendly outlet spoke up. "Guild Master Aditya, some suggest your relationship with Rama compromises professional judgment. That you’re supporting him out of personal loyalty rather than objective assessment of abilities."

"My relationship with Rama began when he was E-rank and everyone dismissed him as useless. I married him based on character, not rank. Now that he’s Champion, that loyalty hasn’t changed—it’s been vindicated." She smiled coldly. "I trust my judgment. The perfect clear vindicates it. The forty volunteers for trials vindicate it. The void preparation we’re implementing while rivals spread rumors—that vindicates it."

"But Dragon’s Gate claims—"

"Dragon’s Gate tried to recruit my husband with a fifty-million-monthly offer. He refused. They’re upset. Understandable. But spreading fraud rumors because recruitment failed?" Sekar’s voice went ice cold. "That’s not competition. That’s petty corporate warfare. And Eternal Bond doesn’t respond to petty attacks by cowering. We respond by succeeding louder."

The room went silent. The challenge was explicit. Public. Recorded.

"Any other questions?" Sekar asked.

One final journalist raised her hand. "When the trials begin—will media be allowed to observe? To document the process?"

Rama answered. "No. Trials are private, sacred processes between candidates and the System. We’ll release results—how many succeeded, how many failed, how many died. But the trials themselves remain confidential. Participants deserve privacy during their most vulnerable moments."

"Even if transparency would prove your abilities are real?"

"We’re not proving anything to skeptics. We’re creating Champions to save humanity. Media spectacle is irrelevant to that mission." Rama stood. "The void war doesn’t care about public opinion. The Herald arrives in thirty-three days regardless of who believes or doubts. We’re preparing for reality, not perception."

Sekar stood as well. "Final statement. To rival guilds attempting recruitment, spreading rumors, or planning pressure campaigns—" She looked directly at the camera. "—Rama Kusuma is taken. Married. Committed to Eternal Bond. Attempts to recruit him will fail. Attempts to discredit him will backfire. Attempts to leverage me against him will be met with consequences."

The threat was clear. The territorial claim was absolute.

"This press conference is concluded. Thank you."

They left the stage together, Sekar’s hand possessively on Rama’s arm, guild leadership flanking them in unified formation.

Behind them, journalists exploded into questions and speculation.

But the message had been delivered.

Public. Recorded. Unmistakable.

Later that afternoon, the social media response was explosive.

#EternalBondVsDragonGate trended nationally.

#ProtectiveGuildMaster trended alongside it.

#YandereSekar emerged as affectionate fan term.

The public was split—some found Sekar’s possessiveness concerning, others found it romantic, most found it entertaining drama.

But the key result: Dragon’s Gate’s rumor campaign had been countered. The fraud claims looked petty now instead of legitimate concerns.

Rama sat in Sekar’s office, reviewing responses while she handled post-conference calls.

"Public opinion shifted," he said. "The press conference worked."

"For now. Dragon’s Gate will respond. They won’t accept being called petty on national media." Sekar finished a call, sat beside him. "Hendra Wijaya doesn’t back down easily."

"Neither do you, apparently. That was quite a performance."

"That wasn’t performance. That was truth." She took his hand. "You are taken. You are mine. And I meant every word about consequences."

"I know. That’s what made it effective."

"Are you bothered? By the public possessiveness? The yandere reputation?"

"Honestly? No. I find it reassuring. You claimed me publicly. Made it politically costly for rivals to continue recruitment attempts. That’s strategic and protective. I’m not complaining."

"Good. Because I’m not dialing it back. If anything, I’m going to be more protective as trials approach." She squeezed his hand. "Forty candidates. Fifteen to twenty percent mortality means we lose six to eight people. You’re going to carry that weight. I’m going to help you carry it."

"Thank you."

"That’s what partners do." She pulled up the trial schedule. "One week until we begin. Forty candidates. Medical evaluations complete. Psychological assessments complete. Combat readiness verified. Legal waivers signed."

"And families informed about mortality risk?"

"Informed and counseled. Some are supportive. Some are terrified but respect their family member’s choice. Some are angry—we’ve had three families threaten legal action if their children die."

"Can they sue?"

"Not with waivers signed. But they can try. We’re prepared for that." Sekar’s expression was troubled. "This is the hardest part. Knowing some of those forty won’t come back. Knowing we’re sending them into trials fully aware of the mortality rate."

"It’s necessary. Without Champions, millions die to void entities. Losing six to eight now saves thousands later."

"I know the math. Doesn’t make it easier." She leaned against him. "How do you carry this? The weight of knowing people will die because of your decisions?"

"By remembering the alternative. In Timeline—" He stopped himself. "In the visions I’ve seen. Without Champions, without preparation, the void war kills millions. Cities destroyed. Civilizations collapsed. Humanity barely surviving. Six to eight deaths in trials versus millions in unprepared war—the choice is clear."

"But still painful."

"Always painful. But necessary." He wrapped an arm around her. "And I’m not carrying it alone. You’re helping. Sharing the burden. Making it bearable."

"We carry it together. Always."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of what was coming settling over them.

Then Rama’s phone buzzed. Message from Yanto.

Yanto: Dragon’s Gate responded. Not publicly. But their asset acquisition specialist just arrived at Eternal Bond perimeter. He’s watching headquarters. Setting up surveillance. Whatever they’re planning, it’s moving to active phase.

Rama showed Sekar. Her expression hardened.

"Arif Santoso. The specialist you mentioned."

"He’s escalating. Moving from rumors to direct action."

"Then we increase security. Guild headquarters lockdown protocol. No one enters without verification. Security details for all leadership. And for you—" She looked at him seriously. "—personal protection. Armed guards. Everywhere you go."

"I’m Level 50 Champion. I can handle myself."

"Humor me. Please. They’re targeting you to get to me. I need you protected."

The vulnerability in her voice made the decision easy. "Okay. Personal security. But low profile. I don’t want to look like I’m hiding behind guards."

"Agreed. Professional. Discreet. But armed and competent." She made calls, arranging details.

By evening, Rama had a two-person security detail—both B-rank hunters, both combat specialists, both instructed to be subtle but alert.

It felt excessive. But also... prudent.

Dragon’s Gate had asset acquisition specialists watching them. Surveillance teams at their apartment. Rumor campaigns online. Pressure building systematically.

Something was coming. Some move Hendra Wijaya was planning.

And they needed to be ready.

Three days before trials, the families arrived.

Forty candidates. Forty families saying potential goodbyes.

The guild’s assembly hall filled with tears, pride, fear, anger—every emotion parents felt sending children into fifteen percent mortality trials.

Rama stood at the front with Sekar, facing them all.

An older woman approached, tears streaming. "My daughter Sari is volunteering. She’s twenty-four. Smart. Strong. She says becoming Champion is worth the risk." Her voice broke. "But if she dies—if your trials kill my daughter—how do I live with that?"

Rama met her eyes. "You live with it by knowing she chose this. Knowing she understood the risks. Knowing that if she succeeds, she becomes a Champion who saves hundreds of lives. And knowing that if she doesn’t succeed—her sacrifice still contributed to humanity’s survival by proving others could."

"That’s not enough. That doesn’t replace my daughter."

"No. It doesn’t. Nothing does. If Sari dies, you’ll grieve. You’ll be angry. You’ll question everything. That’s human." He took her hands gently. "But your daughter is brave. She’s choosing to risk everything because she believes in something bigger than herself. Honor that choice. Support it. And if the worst happens—know that she died a hero."

The woman sobbed but nodded. "Keep her safe. Please. If you can—keep her safe."

"I’ll do everything possible. I promise."

She returned to her family. Others approached. Some angry. Some supportive. Some just terrified.

Rama spoke to each one. Sekar beside him, offering support, sharing the burden.

By the end, all forty families understood the stakes. The risks. The necessity.

Most accepted it. Some didn’t. But all respected their family member’s choice.

As the hall emptied, one candidate approached—Dewi, the young volunteer who’d asked for private training.

"Champion Rama. Guild Master. I wanted to say—I’m ready. For trials. For the risk. For whatever comes." She smiled nervously. "And I wanted to apologize. For asking for private sessions. For the way I looked at you. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to your relationship."

Sekar’s expression softened. "You weren’t disrespectful. You were enthusiastic. That’s good. We need enthusiastic Champions."

"Still. I realized after the press conference—you two are really committed. It’s admirable. Goals, honestly." Dewi looked at Rama. "Thank you for preparing us. For being honest about mortality rates. For giving us this chance."

"Thank you for volunteering. For being brave enough to try."

She left. Sekar watched her go.

"She apologized. For looking at you the wrong way."

"You terrified her at the press conference."

"Good. Territorial boundaries established." But Sekar smiled. "She seems nice though. I hope she survives."

"Me too."

They prepared to leave when Rama’s phone buzzed. Unknown number. Against his better judgment, he answered.

"Rama Kusuma." The voice was unfamiliar. Calm. Professional. Dangerous.

"Who is this?"

"Arif Santoso. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m the specialist your Network contact warned you about."

Rama’s blood went cold. He put it on speaker so Sekar could hear.

"What do you want?"

"To deliver a message. Your press conference was impressive. Public claim. Territorial display. Very protective Guild Master defending her Champion." Arif’s tone was amused. "But you misunderstand the game. This isn’t about recruitment anymore. It’s about leverage. About creating situations where you need what Dragon’s Gate offers."

"Get to the point."

"The point is—trials start in three days. Forty candidates. Fifteen percent mortality means six deaths. What if that number increased? What if circumstances made trials more dangerous than expected? What if casualties reached ten, fifteen, twenty?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"I’m suggesting accidents happen. Equipment failures. Medical complications. Unexpected System interactions. Things that could make trials much deadlier." Arif paused. "Unless, of course, Dragon’s Gate’s resources were available. Our medical specialists. Our System researchers. Our safety protocols. Then maybe casualties stay at expected levels instead of doubling or tripling."

It was a threat. Thinly veiled. Explicitly dangerous.

"You’re threatening to sabotage our trials. Kill candidates. Unless we work with Dragon’s Gate."

"I’m suggesting that partnership has benefits. And isolation has risks. How you interpret that is up to you." Another pause. "You have seventy-two hours before trials begin. Think carefully about whether you want to proceed alone. Or whether Dragon’s Gate’s support might be... valuable."

The call disconnected.

Rama and Sekar stared at each other, the implications sinking in.

"They’re going to sabotage the trials," Sekar said, voice shaking with fury. "Kill candidates. Force us to accept their help."

"That’s the threat."

"We can’t let them. We can’t—" She cut herself off, thinking rapidly. "We increase security. Medical screening. Equipment verification. Background checks on all support staff. Lock down everything."

"If they’re planning sabotage, they’ve already planted it. Personnel, equipment, something. We have seventy-two hours to find it before trials begin."

"Then we have seventy-two hours to work." Sekar grabbed her phone. "I’m calling emergency guild meeting. All leadership. We’re going to war footing. If Dragon’s Gate wants to play this game, we’ll show them what Eternal Bond looks like when protecting its own."

She stormed out, already making calls, mobilizing resources.

Rama stood alone in the assembly hall, looking at the empty chairs where forty families had sat.

Forty candidates. Six to eight expected deaths.

But if Arif succeeded in sabotage? Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

Half the candidates dead because Dragon’s Gate wanted leverage.

No.

Not in this timeline.

In Timeline 1, I let threats go unanswered. Let enemies operate freely. People died who didn’t need to.

Timeline 2? Different rules.

Dragon’s Gate just threatened my candidates. My trials. My mission.

That means war.

He pulled out his phone, calling Yanto.

"I need everything you have on Arif Santoso. Methods. Patterns. Weaknesses. Everything."

"What are you planning?"

"Counter-operation. If Dragon’s Gate wants to play sabotage games, we’ll show them what happens when you threaten a Regressor’s second chance."

"Rama—"

"They threatened my candidates, Yanto. Forty people volunteering to become Champions. If trials get sabotaged and twenty die instead of six—that’s fourteen unnecessary deaths. Fourteen people who could’ve been Champions. Fourteen futures erased because Hendra Wijaya wants leverage."

"I understand. But be careful. Arif is dangerous. Professional. He doesn’t make mistakes."

"Neither do I. Not anymore. Not in this timeline." Rama’s voice went cold. "Send me everything. We have seventy-two hours. Let’s use them."

The call ended.

Rama looked around the empty hall one more time.

Forty candidates preparing for trials.

Forty families hoping their children survived.

Forty potential Champions who could save thousands.

Dragon’s Gate wanted to turn that into leverage through sabotage and death.

Big mistake.

Huge mistake.

Because they just threatened the one thing Rama wouldn’t tolerate in Timeline 2.

They threatened his people.

His candidates.

His second chance to save everyone.

And that meant war.

The trials would proceed in three days.

But before that, Rama had seventy-two hours to find and neutralize whatever sabotage Arif had planted.

Seventy-two hours to protect forty lives.

Seventy-two hours to prove that threatening a Regressor’s mission was a fatal error.

Dragon’s Gate wanted leverage through death?

They were about to learn what happened when you threatened someone who’d already died and come back with perfect knowledge of how to prevent it.

The game had escalated.

And Rama was done playing defense.

Time to go on offense.