"It looks like we'll have a winner decided not long from now."
Aoife's face twisted as she heard her brother's words.
Her lips parted, ready to protest, to refute him outright.
But…
"....."
No sound came. She found herself unable to say a single word.
She looked at the projection in front of her.
Towards Julien, whose face was pale, and whose entire body was riddled with injuries.
He held a sword in his hand while trying his best to deflect the attacks.
His movements were good. So much so that Aoife found herself questioning the situation, 'How is he so good at the sword? Why does it look like he's getting better?'
But in spite of all the questions, there was still no denying the inevitable.
'He's going to lose.'
It was obvious. His mana was low, and he was surrounded on all sides.
Each second that passed, and he'd receive a new injury.
Aoife wasn't the only one who thought this way.
The audience thought the same.
