It wasn't that Michael wanted people to gather around him, but he couldn't help but wonder.
"Do I really look that weak?"
His gaze dropped to himself.
Long hair.
Fair skin—so pale he could be mistaken for a noble's daughter.
A slender frame.
No sight of a weapon on his body.
…Yeah, he did look fragile.
Michael's lips twitched at the thought, but in the end, he didn't really care.
He shifted his focus back to his surroundings.
Unlike previous times when there were ten groups, this time there were eleven—with him being one all by himself.
It made him stand out, sure, but Michael couldn't be bothered with the stares.
Just as he continued observing and wondering how he should handle the trial, the gates embedded in the arena's wall creaked open—
—followed by the chilling howl of wolves.
The wolves emerged from the gates one by one, their paws silent on the blood-stained stone.
