*Thwack—THOOM!*
After a brutal kick from the soldier in the center of the roofed colosseum, a mid-sized figure rocketed across the air before slamming into the stone wall beneath the stands, right below stands crowded by Class E, cruelly laughing at their unlucky classmate.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Pathetic.” SS-Class ’Sinful Blade’ Verdan Anhogi didn’t bother to hide his disgust for the student now lying on the ground. “I’ve never witnessed such clumsiness in my entire life. How exactly do you plan to survive on a real battlefield?” With a second powerful kick, the professor propelled the nearby ball forward. “Do you think breaking a Korinthian Phalanx is going to be as easy as shattering your crooked nose?” New bursts of laughter erupted as the ball struck the student squarely in the face, cracking her aquiline nose with a sickening sound—a crimson stream added a needed touch of color to her pale skin.
What’s even the point?
Wiping the blend of blood and tears blurring her vision, the girl pondered the futility of rising—of keep fighting—onky to be rewarded with another wave of vicious jeers.
I just want to be in my bed…sleeping…and never wake u—
”EUDOXIA!!!” A thunderous shout tore through the storm of laughter. “Are you seriously giving up against that fossil with dementia?!” Llywelyn shouted, veins bulging, one leg thrown over the railing, and his fist raised high. “A dragon doesn’t turn around when a sheep bleats. I know you can do this—you’ve already shown me!”
“Don’t be scared, little ‘Cat.’” Spurdo’s tone was gentler, but no less mighty. “Fear is just a limit we build to protect ourselves from the unknown. Embrace it. Let it burn you into ash, and, like a phoenix, you will be reborn.” The ’Refrigerator’ recited an old saying from his people.
“You stupid girl! TAKE THE BALL!” The nasal voice of EE-Class ’Technocrat’ Roir Lothar cracked like a whip. “The test’s goal isn’t to fight a Class S—it’s to win the damn game!” His foot thumped against the ground like a piston, each bounce of his leg barely suppressing a new surge of wrath.
Despite everything…I’m not alone…
Using her last strength left, EEE-Class ‘Cat’ Eudoxia Zhelanya rose, grabbed the ball, and began dribbling.
I’ve to keep fighting, for th—
Sadly, the ball’s rebound was far stronger than expected, slipping upward from her grasp and smacking her chin. The ’Cat’ staggered back, fighting to keep her balance, only for the ball to bounce again, strike the back of her head, and send her crashing face-first into the ground—useless to write about the audience reaction.
”Eudoxia…c’mon!” Llywelyn slumped back in frustration on his seat, Spurdo covered his face in shame, and Roir slammed his fist against the railing, breaking both.
”Get out of my sight—NOW!” Mr. Anhogi bellowed, lamenting the good old days when he could’ve punished the girl by throwing her into a 300-meter-deep pit filled with monsters.
Tears streamed down Eudoxia’s cheeks as she sprinted back to her seat beside her teammates. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face, her thick and curly hair tumbling forward to form a tangled curtain—a wall between her and the cruel world.
”I’ve told you to focus on the ball.” Roir’s nose grated after each syllable. ”Now, thanks to you, we’ll definitely rank dead la—MMHHFFFF” A thin wire suddenly wrapped around his mouth, cutting the ’Technocrat’ off mid-sentence.
”Don’t worry, Doxi-Doxi. You will get used to it.” Llywelyn gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, while Roir twitched furiously beneath his feet, waving for someone to help him.
”Mistakes are the first step to learning,” Spurdo added, nodding sagely.
“…It’s the thirty-sixth time I’ve failed Mr. Anhogi’s tests since last week…it’s over for me…” Eudoxia mumbled as more tears fell from the shattered mirrors of her soul. Worse, her [PointyEars] amplified the nasty gossip from the other Class E girls.
”She’s so weird. Just look at those oily curls—I’d sooner slit my own throat than be seen in public in that state.” EE-Class ‘Almond’ Josephine Elodié De La Victoire-Rêver chuckled, proudly running her fingers through her silky hair.
…It’s the saltiness in the air that’s ruining my hair…
”You’re so cruel. It’s not her fault if the genes she inherited came from such a poor breed. My main issue is that hideous dress. Where did she get it? From her grandmother’s attic?” EE-Class ‘Judge’ Xandressa Nepomucena De La Noche Atormentada y Aragón crossed her legs with a seductive motion, showing off her Firefox ankle boots she had bought in one of the most exclusive boutiques in Azhura.
…My father’s wage can’t even afford your fireproof socks…
”You’re both right. Yet, what really irritates me is her personality—she is such a pushover. Just a few days ago, I threw her favorite book into the park’s lake, and she didn’t even get mad at me—ahah, so pathetic. My father is right, some people are born to be slaves.” EE-Class ’Telescope’ Freydís Von Sverkyst’s lips curled into a devilish sneer as she dexterously moved her slender fingers, replying to hundreds of [Emails] across the dozens of [Windows] floating around her.
…I was mad…but what could I do…?
”Stop wasting your mental energy on Eudoxia—she’s nobody.” At their colonel’s words, the three cadets immediately stood at attention. EEE-Class ‘Bitterness’ Erzsébet Hellbora Hunyadi De Székesfehérvár, Királesse of Kaszkádia, wore only the lightest makeup—neither pompous nor exotic—yet there was no gem more admired than her. Her clothes were modest—neither lavish nor extravagant—yet on her, even the masterpieces of the most celebrated stylists paled in comparison. Her expression was unreadable—neither cheerful nor bitter—yet something about her bewitched attention, drawing others in like crows in a spider’s web.
Hellbora was idolized by students and professors alike, including Eudoxia, which made her comment the hardest to endure.
”Are you seriously giving a shit about the opinions of those whores?” Roir declared after freeing his mouth from Llywelyn’s [Wire] and noticing the perfidious glances directed at his teammate. ”How they dress, how they look, how they think—it’s all exactly the same. Trust me, it’s better to die alone than kill your own personality just to conform to their cancerous cult!”
”I’m sorry, Roir, but I disagree.” Spurdo chimed in. ”My homeland was ruined by too many of my people withdrawing from society out of pride—a polar island for everyone isn’t a solution. So, no matter how many times people break my heart—I’ll always reject loneliness.’ His unwavering conviction prompted Roir to snort.
”I think both of you are right. Those three girls? No one cares—they can all die in the most painful way imaginable, for all I care. But Hellbora…that’s another story—ihihih.” Llywelyn rubbed his hands, his nose wrinkling, and his giggle was a little too high-pitched. Overall, the ’Fisherman’ now resembled a leprechaun lust-eyeing his pot of gold. ”Once I beat the shit out of Mr. Anhogi and prove my strength to her…well, let's just say that I’ll be the luckiest man in the Academy—ihihih.”
”Don’t make me laugh, you delusional idiot. To girls like her, we aren’t even real men.” Roir pointed toward a student sitting alone at the far edge of the seats. ”Besides, she’s already taken.” His pitch-black expression oddly juxtaposed with his angelic features—as if he were trying to keep shut the Gate of Chaos inside his heart all by himself.
EE-Class ’Blade’ Jean-Baptiste De Saint-Fayette, the prince of Brouillard-Vallée…maybe…
Eudoxia, staring at his lifeless expression, wondered if perhaps he could, somehow, understand her. However, the moment the thought crossed her mind, the Great-Duchess of Cascadia left her minions to sit next to her Auxerine prince, sweetly resting her head on his shoulder.
I’m truly a fool…no one is as pathetic as me…
”Jean-retard De Dog-Shit.” The ’Technocrat’ spat. ”Your girl’s already fallen for that edgy boy, just like the other bitches of this school. Rich, noble, and handsome. He won at life before he was even born—lucky piece of shit.”
”I’m way better than him, and she’ll realize it soon enough.” And after that, Mr. Anhogi blew a whistle, signaling it was Llywelyn’s turn. ”Wish me luck!” He winked before vaulting over the railing, confident in his imminent triumph.
”Full of yourself? Haha, maybe I’m getting rusty.” The ’Sinful Blade’ sneered while cracking his knuckles.
”Fear won’t help a sheep fight a dragon. Stop worrying over nothing and face your problems—if you win, good. If you die, at least you’ve defended your honor. But first—[Wire].” He retrieved a flower from his [Inventory] and threw it high into the air. Then, his [Wire] wriggled around his left hand, transforming it into a reel from which he could control its length, while his right hand, which gripped firmly part of it, directed its path.
With flawless coordination of both hands, the ’Fisherman’ manipulated the [Wire] to catch the flower mid-air before extending and curving it to deliver the flower to a very special person seated in the upper rows. ”Hellbora, from my heart, a priceless gift for you.” Petals as green as the fertile hills of the Draigesque State and a pistil as red as the breath of a dragon—the Drychlas, also known as the Draig's Narcissus. ”The most beautiful flower in the world, for its most beautiful creature—my victory will be dedicated to you!”
After her prism eyes sank into her sockets, Hellbora crushed the flower in his hand. ”Don't you dare do that again”
She’s not ignoring me anymore! Three more weeks, and we’ll be a couple.
Llywelyn couldn’t have been more enthusiastic, viewing her rejection as the first step in climbing a tall mountain.
Meanwhile, a stray petal from the destroyed flower drifted across the room and landed at Eudoxia’s feet, and, wearing a bittersweet expression, she gently picked it up.
I wonder what it feels like to be desired enough to receive such a beautiful present.
As the ’Cat’ was lost in melancholy, [FelineReflex] activated, her hand instinctively intercepting an object directed at her—a narcissus. ”Doxi-Doxi, can you do me a favor in exchange for that?—Smile.” She gladly accepted the deal, and despite the violent rain that had ravaged the land, the sun now beamed as brightly as ever before.
At that moment, the ‘Fisherman’ confirmed a theory of his—when Eudoxia smiled, no other girl in the world was more beautiful.
*SLAP!*
Mr. Anhogi rewarded the act of kindness with a blow to the back of Llywelyn’s neck. ”One? Sure. But two? You disgusting degenerate pig. If I ever catch you flirting with another girl, I’ll ask Mr. Durere to use your skin for one of his mannequins—one that I’m personally going to collect,” the professor threatened before gesturing for another student to join them—Jean-Baptiste.
He reluctantly obeyed, positioning himself next to Llywelyn. ”Professor,” the ’Blade’ said, pointing a finger at his Draigesque classmate. ”Why?”
”A quick glance at today’s performances makes clear that the overall quality of new cadets has collapsed year after year, reaching a breaking point I never thought imaginable. A solution might be three weeks of starvation. However, one more complaint from His Holiness’s Most Compassionate Committee and I’m out.” He sighed, swearing under his breath at everything wrong with the modern world. ”So…let’s see if you two can do anything right with…oh, ’Imperfect Eclipser,’ forgive me for what I’m about to say…c-cooperation.”
”I don’t need any help, especially not from this plebeian,” the Auxerine prince flatly declared, completely ignoring the fact that dynamite could explode at the slightest vibration.
”What the hell did you just call me?!” Llywelyn roared, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket.
”You’re dead.” Jean-Baptiste lunged for his throat, initiating a chokehold, but due to their evident difference in height, the ’Fisherman’ was able to counter with a sharp knee straight to his balls. ”Bastard!” Both collapsed to the ground, where they were wrestling like wild animals. Scratches, bites, headbutts, the Class E above were witnessing a fight between two feral animals—a honey badger and a lone wolf—while an exasperated Mr. Anhogi wondered what sin he had committed to deserve this.
Oh yeah…that.
Then, the professor calmed both stray dogs with a square kick to the face. ”You’ve already wasted enough of my time. Any further childish behavior will be rewarded with an FFF as your final grade. Understood?” Both students grumbled and glared at each other with hatred, but, ultimately, complied. Mr. Anhogi tossed them the ball, officially starting the test.
”[Blade],” Jean-Baptiste shouted, and a smooth metal stick materialized in his hand. ”Don’t dare to move a muscle.”
”Have fun!” Llywelyn stepped aside as his classmate strode toward his enemy. The ’Sinful Blade’ responded by materializing a serpent-shaped knife—oak grip, titanium blade, glowing-violet edge—and launched it at the ’Blade,’ who, holding the ball firmly in his armpit, readied himself to deflect the attack. ”What?!” Unexpectedly, the knife twisted mid-air, swirling around his metal stick and successfully slicing into his arm. Then it came again, from above, from below, or zigzagging wildly. It was as if an expert warrior was maneuvering the weapon, but no hand was guiding it.
”[Blade(Lance)],” Jean-Baptiste said, transforming the metal stick into a full-length spear that he used to fend off the dancing blade while keeping as much distance as possible between them. The two weapons clashed again and again, but one side was slowed by the lag of a mortal brain—requiring a couple of microseconds to calculate each new move. Hence, the Auxerine prince was forced into steady retreat, halting only when his back kissed the wall. Then, with just three thunderous steps, Mr. Anhogi dashed across the entire battlefield and impaled Jean-Baptiste against the wall with a direct kick to the stomach.
”Umm…if fleeing is all you can do—you’ve already lost!” In a desperate attempt, Jean-Baptiste reshaped his lance into a massive shield, managing to block the follow-up kick. Nevertheless, the impact unbalanced him and the ball slipped from his grasp. ”It’s mine now.” Mr. Anhogi flashed his sharp canines.
“You wish, old man!” Suddenly, a thin, transparent wire snapped around the ball, yanking it away just as the professor was about to grab it. The ‘Sinful Blade’ raised his sight, only to see the green ball dangling from Llywelyn’s right arm. ”Time for retirement, Grandpa!”
Mr. Anhogi’s sneer widened as thirty-five new knives materialized—each of different shapes and materials, but all sharing the same violet edge—gravitating around him like planets around a sun. And then, together with the first blade, they were launched toward Llywelyn. ”Parry this, you filthy casual!” Casual was a pejorative term for military cadets, but over time, it evolved into slang for arrogant fools who acted like they knew everything but actually knew nothing.
”I advise your wrinkled ass to buy a pair of glasses.” Despite thirty-six knives flying straight at him, Llywelyn didn’t flinch, grinning at the ’Grim Reaper’ coming to take his soul. ”’Cause your garbage aim won’t cut it.” Just as the blades were about to pierce his face, all of them abruptly veered to the right.
”Damn—you’re a smart kid.” Mr. Anhogi clapped as Llywelyn’s [Wire] moved the ball away from him, and all his knives followed suit.
”If that surprised you, watch this!” The ’Fisherman’ yanked the [Wire] to his right, delivering the ball into the hands of his clueless professor.
*SHLUNK!* *SHLUNK!* *SHLUNK!*
Caught off guard, Mr. Anhogi failed to respond in time, and all thirty-six blades impaled his body. One blade embedded in his eye, another in his heart, a third deep in his gut, etc., becoming a living voodoo doll—blood now spilled from his military uniform like many waterfalls. ”Strike!” Llywelyn roared in triumph.
The test’s rules required Mr. Anhogi to deactivate all [Stats.Skills], rendering his body vulnerable, and that’s why his student’s trick had worked. ”Don’t get too cocky. I’ve survived worse even before enlisting in His Holiness’s Army,” he growled, blood dribbling from his mouth as he began pulling the first knife from his body.
*SHLUNK!*
”Ugh?” Despite his repeated efforts, each time the ’Sinful Blade’ removed a knife, it immediately struck itself back into another part of his body. No matter how fast he moved, an unseen force made all his efforts worthless.
”Grandpa, are you okay? Want me to call a nurse?” Llywelyn taunted.
”It seems curing the symptoms is a waste of time. So, let’s fix the problem at the source.” With his murderous glare locked on his student, Mr. Anhogi, bleeding and frenzied, gripped the [Wire] and began pulling it.
”Hey, stop! You can’t do that! It’s unfair!” Llywelyn shouted, struggling as he was steadily dragged toward his execution.
”Unfair?” The ’Sinful Blade’ bared his teeth. ”Ever been hit with Korinthian Sarin while defending a trench? No? Let me tell you about [Malus.CholinergicCris—”
*CRAAAACK!*
Mr. Anhogi collapsed mid-sentence, slamming into the ground as the knives embedded in his back sank even deeper.
”Haven’t you forgotten about someone, dementia man?” Jean-Baptiste roared after having shattered his professor’s bones with a club. ”[Blade (Sword)].” The primitive weapon morphed into a Dark-Century one that effortlessly sliced through the [Wire], freeing Llywelyn.
“A little more and I would’ve been slaughtered. Thanks…I guess.” The ‘Fisherman’ gave the ‘Blade’ a friendly smile, which was met with cold indifference.
”I told you not to move. I can handle him alone.”
”Five minutes ago? Debatable. Now? Not a chance.” Llywelyn nodded toward Mr. Anhogi, who was already dragging himself up—his expression leaving no doubt about what grim fate awaited the two young men. ”Together?” The ’Fisherman’ extended his hand.
Jean-Baptiste silently stared for a moment, then sighed and took it. ”Together.” The chaotic opening of a brutal, yet spectacular fight.
”He’s good…really good,” Eudoxia whispered, her emerald eyes mesmerized by his spectacular performance. She clutched the green narcissus tightly on her chest, squeezing it each time Mr. Anhogi came close to crushing Llywelyn’s skull.
”He’s a little frivolous, wasting too much time and too many chances just to put on a show,” Roir observed, adjusting his square glasses. ”If I were him, I would’ve already secured victory by focusing on winning the game. That being said, no one can deny his talent. Evolving to Class A is beyond question, and perhaps—if he starts following my advice religiously—Class S might even be within reach.”
Maybe I’ve found my rival.
”Nah, I disagree,” a calm and analytical voice commented. ”The ’Blade’ guy? He’s got your typical high-class Essentia. But the ’Fisherman?’ Well, his hollow soul is quite different from the standard—such a peculiar shape, something I’ve never seen before. Thus, even I can’t predict his evolution.” Both Eudoxia and Roir turned toward Spurdo, assuming he had spoken, but the ’Refrigerator’ claimed innocence. So, confused, the trio turned around, finding a stranger standing behind them.
”What are you three looking at?” The blend of disgust and fear in their eyes said everything about their first impression of the man.
”Who the hell are you? Only authorized personnel can enter the Miraval Academy!” Roir hastily shielded Eudoxia with his arm. ”Fuck off to the filthy streets of Port Island before I call the guards!” The man looked far older than any of the students. His greasy hair clung to his face, a scraggly beard covered his jaw, and his torn clothes looked like they hadn’t seen a washing machine in years—a homeless man with no apparent regard for hygiene.
“Is that the tone a freshman uses with his senior?” The man sighed dramatically. “Ahhh…seems like King Cornelius never misses.”
”You’re…WHAT?!” Roir recoiled, dumbfounded.
“I’m a third-year student—EEE-Class ‘Masseur’ Renault L’Arioste,” he proudly revealed, pointing at himself with his thumb. However, his introduction was met by the Roir’s cruel laughter.
”What? Did he say something funny?” Spurdo asked, genuinely confused. Thus, the ‘Technocrat’ started a tirade about how the Class E who failed to evolve were nothing but human trash, listing every stereotype one by one. Yet Renault didn’t flinch, as if he were completely above such critiques.
“Such brave words for someone who hasn’t even evolved yet,” Renault chuckled, pity-eyeing his junior. “And with just one glance at your Essentia, I can already tell—sweet justice won’t take long to deal with you. You know, one of my [Passive.Skills] lets me glimpse inside human bodies to peek at their hollow souls, and after two years in Class E, I’ve developed a few theories that correlate an Essentia’s shape with its evolution.” He tapped Roir’s shoulder. “Yours? Almost identical to mine. So, if I were you, I’d train way harder than your classmates down there.”
”You’re lying!” The ’Technocrat’ bellowed. ”My family is one of the few left that can trace its lineage back to Adam’s Ascension!”
“Are you sure? Didn’t that MacMalley guy end up in Class F? Guess there’s a first time for everything.” Roir’s expression withered, closing himself in an awkward silence.
”Can you evaluate my Essentia?” Spurdo asked with curiosity.
The ‘Masseur’ gave him a quick glance, then nodded. “Class S. Your Essentia is big—as massive as your body. Nine months at worst for your evolution, even if you do nothing the whole time.” The ‘Refrigerator’ rejoiced at the news. Then Renault’s eyes locked onto Eudoxia. “It’s your turn, Miss ‘Cat,’” he said, sitting down beside her.
Eudoxia couldn’t figure out what to think of her senior. She had already met the second-years of Class E, and though both Safiye and Morjazz wore bright smiles, it was easy to see that, deep down, they all shared the same quiet despair about their situation. Instead, despite his efforts to conceal it, a different emotion radiated from Renault. Neither bitterness nor acceptance—just absolute and unfiltered hatred.
Just like me.
“Want an evaluation too?” The ’Masseur’ took her hesitation as consent. However, as soon as he activated his [Skill], his expression harshened. He began examining her body, sometimes even touching her inappropriately, but Eudoxia didn’t feel offended or uncomfortable because his manner reminded her more of a doctor. ”Please answer honestly, this is of vital importance,” he declared, placing both hands firmly on her shoulders. ”Have you ever had trouble breathing during physical activity? Issues with posture or coordination? Difficulty expressing your thoughts to others?”
Eudoxia’s eyes widened in shock. René had pinpointed every struggle she’d faced her entire life. ”How…”
”It’ll be difficult to process what I’m about to say, but I have to try.” He took a deep breath. ”Miss Zhelanya, your Essentia is…twisted.” Judging by the shocked expressions of Eudoxia, Roir, and Spurdo, the ’Masseur’ realized a more visual explanation was needed. From his [Inventory], he pulled out a balloon, inflating and contorting it into the shape of a small cat. ”Your Essentia is like this balloon animal. It is divided into distinct sections by narrow points where your hollow soul has twisted on itself millions, perhaps billions of times, obstructing the natural flow of your Mana and limiting your overall vitality.”
”So you’re telling me that all my problems can be solved just by untwisting these things?” She asked, on the verge of tears.
”Yes, and the best part is—I can do it right now. If you give me your consent, of course.” Eudoxia eagerly nodded. ”[Irrationality].” Eudoxia’s tear-filled eyes widened as Renault’s right hand began to glow with an argentine light. Then, he joined his index and middle fingers, striking her stomach. ”This is only the first step. It’ll take some time, and you may feel a little pain.”
What followed was a barrage of rapid strikes, each blow landing on different parts of her body with inhuman precision. Every impact unleashed a flash of heat—like a squadron of Griffin Riders carpet-bombing beneath her skin. What overwhelmed her was a feeling she could only describe as the breaking of a slave’s chains—something within her that had always been restrained was now free. The symphony of percussion culminated in a final strike straight to her heart. A tremendous eruption that spread throughout her entire body, prompting Eudoxia to moan out the pain of her fourteen years of slavery, all backgrounded by the sound of a siren echoing the victory of the two students in the colosseum.
”Done. How are you feeling?” Renault asked, and in response, Eudoxia took a deep breath—never in her life had her lungs felt so full.
”I feel so light.” Her body felt as weightless as a feather. She stood up, feeling taller, her once-awkward posture now as slender as a Ballerina. ”Thank you…I feel reborn.”
“It’s my duty as an Essentia. Just do me one favor—remember me if you ever get rich and famous, okay?” Eudoxia hugged him tightly, and with a quick glance at the weird expression now on Renault’s face, he greatly enjoyed it.
At the same time, on the training field, Llywelyn helped Jean-Baptiste to his feet. ”Good job, bro. For a spoiled noble, you’re not that bad.”
The ’Blade’ sighed before taking his hand. ”Yeah…you’re not that bad for a filthy pleb.” Both chuckled, but the moment was interrupted by an unexpected declaration.
”Mr. Anhogi! I beg you—let me try again!” Eudoxia stood on the railing, one hand over her heart as she implored him.
”I’ve lost too much blood to care about your childish request. So fuck off,” In response, the ’Cat’ performed a triple somersault and landed gracefully in front of him, leaving everyone speechless, herself included—although it all felt natural to her body.
”Please, Professor, if I fail again—I’ll accept any consequences.” The impact of her acrobatics was still vivid in Mr. Anhogi’s mind, who, reluctantly, gave a silent nod.
Her new test began with Eudoxia flawlessly dribbling the ball before being met by his thirty-six knives. Yet, she dodged them all, and after a rapid succession of flawless jumps, she reached the ‘Sinful Blade’ and both engaged in a fistfight. The war veteran did his best, but no matter how many punches or kicks he threw, he missed every time—the ‘Cat’ was simply too fast. The fight ended when Eudoxia vanished from Mr. Anhogi’s sight, only to reappear behind him, greeting the professor with a sharp scratch across his face. Then, she sprinted to the other end of the training grounds and pushed the ball into the basket, ending the game and securing her name in the Miraval Academy’s records with an unbeatable time.
The reactions from her classmates were mixed. Her teammates erupted with joy, screaming her name in awe, while the girls from Hellbora’s team were astonished, seething behind their masks. However, the most peculiar reaction came from Jean-Baptiste, who couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Beautiful.
It was the only word he could find to describe her.
A sweaty Eudoxia turned toward the stands. However…“Where is he?” She had wanted to thank the ‘Masseur,’ but he was already gone.
