The battlefield was silent—so silent that the sound of ice cracking under Nox's boots echoed like thunder. He stood there amid the frozen carnage, his cold blue eyes scanning the remains of Windfall's so-called champions.
"Is he going to fight all of them?" a small voice asked from the spectator stand. There was no pandemonium—everywhere was eerily quiet, and all the spectators' gazes were locked on the blue-haired, blue-eyed boy who didn't seem older than nineteen.
"That's what he's about to do," another responded in a somewhat uncertain voice, as if struggling to believe what they were hearing and seeing.
"Is he mad? I know he's strong, but this... this is just pure arrogance!" someone from the Frostpire stand bellowed, rage visible on his face.
Even the other citizens wore annoyed expressions. Some gritted their teeth, thick red veins throbbing on their temples, while others fought the urge to rise to their feet and curse at Nox.
