A sense of laziness settled in Zeion's body, even though he didn't actually experience anything. While he had previously been hit by Julius's attack, his body was still fine. It was far lighter than the aftermath of training with Hander.
Normally, his body would ache every night from Hander's excessive attacks, but Julius's strikes didn't feel as strong.
Reluctantly, he had to accompany the soldiers to the treatment room. Entering a different area, he noticed a room where someone lay, a familiar face, one of the participants in the competition.
The injuries looked severe, and this time, someone even died.
It was better for Zeion to turn away his gaze to the floor; he felt empathy could be too dangerous for him.
Knock! Knock!
They stopped in front of the room's door, and the soldier's hand promptly knocked on it.
"Come in!"
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