The battlefield in the dense forest was turning into chaos. Everywhere, the sound of metal clashing against stone echoed as students threw themselves against the endless wave of golems.
Arthur casually sliced down another golem, his Abyssal Fang cleaving through its chest like paper. He barely even shifted his posture, moving leisurely forward while whistling softly. To the instructors watching, his movements might look calm and calculated—an air of dominance radiating without him even trying.
Alex, on the other hand, was cutting down golems like a storm. His blade technique was sharp, his movements crisp, and every strike carried intent. Sweat trickled down his forehead, his expression filled with determination and frustration all at once.
"Damn it, Arthur!" Alex muttered under his breath, glaring at the black-haired youth ahead who didn't even break a sweat. "Why does he always look like he's strolling through a garden?"
