The wind across the field died, leaving a silence so profound it seemed to press on Leon's eardrum. His side throbbed with an insistent pain, a steady leak of warm liquid soaking through his black shirt.
Before him, the five figures stood as a curated execution squad.
Tiger cracked his knuckles with a series of pops that echoed like gunshots. Jade stood motionless beside him, his expression one of detached superiority.
Vera danced on her toes a few paces away, a cruel smile playing on her lips as dark, void-like energy whispered around her fingertips.
And on Zoe, Leon's breath hitched. Her silver-grey eyes met his for a fraction of a second, then flickered away, giving her the look of a stranger.
The fifth figure, the B-ranked female proctor, didn't bother with a stance. She simply watched, her arms crossed, her gaze cold, almost as if Leon were a specimen about to be dissected.
