The students on the field shifted their gazes toward Adlet almost in unison, their necks tilting, their eyes narrowing.
He was the obvious example—the only one who had paced himself from the very start, jogging with that infuriating calm while the rest of them had burned their lungs and legs like fools.
Yet now, hearing Griselda's words, they couldn't tell whether to envy him or mock him.
Because if she hadn't praised his approach outright, that meant even his tactic wasn't beyond reproach—it placed him barely a step above them in her judgment.
Still, there was one thing no one could ignore.
Adlet hadn't bowed his head.
While Varnok—the very same barbarian who had been howling like a beast at the start—hung his head low, shoulders drooping as if to hide from the sting of her words, Adlet stood there with his hands buried in his pockets, chin lifted.
Instead, he stared right at Griselda.
