Slash.
Azhriel's sword, wrapped in cold mist, cut through the air. A red glow flashed nearby as another cadet disappeared in a pillar of light.
+10.
He let out a quiet breath. He had gathered a good number of points by now—probably enough to reach the top fifty. But that wasn't enough. Not for him.
Solas had given him a clear order: finish in the top ten. Azhriel had no plans of falling short.
He slowly turned his head in one direction, his voice calm and cold.
"How long are you all going to keep hiding?"
The hidden figures froze.
They had been well concealed with an assassination technique, not making a single sound, their presence hidden with care. Yet somehow, he had still noticed them.
One by one, they stepped out from behind the trees.
Among them, the one at the front caught Azhriel's attention immediately. He knew that face well—too well.
'David,' Azhriel thought quietly.
David's smug expression twisted slightly.
