Soren's question lingered in the cold air.
"Are there others!?"
The ponytail girl hesitated.
Then she nodded.
Not dramatically.
Just once.
That was enough.
Soren turned slightly toward Bloodshine.
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, letting her Blackfield expand outward like a thin veil across the snow-covered grounds.
A second later, she shook her head.
There was no one nearby.
The ponytail girl noticed the exchange.
"Just because they decide not to come after you," she said quietly, blood still at the corner of her lips, "doesn't mean they won't. Those bastards are just waiting for you to shed your clown status."
That made sense in Soren's head.
From what he remembered, clowns could not be challenged for gauntlet matches by their superiors.
And first year cadets already feared him.
But the moment he earned his black tunic, it would be different.
But the really concerning part would be the hunting grounds.
A place were battles were free for all.
