Iseni stood at the back of the crowd, greedily breathing in the air that was gradually becoming more violent. This was the scent the Fishmen loved; in this increasingly peaceful campus, it had become more and more rare.
"Ugh, it stinks! Iseni, keep your tribe away!" Andrew pinched his nose and suddenly moved closer to the side of the young Fishman, loudly complaining.
The surrounding voices were very noisy; if he didn't speak up, he worried that the Fishman's small ears wouldn't catch his voice.
Iseni glared with his pallid eyeballs, his expression displeased: "Hiss... Stink, I also smell the stink... Hiss... It's not from us!"
Despite his words, under the oppressive stares of the surrounding young wizards, he still obediently moved to the edge of the lake, intending to tell the crowd of his kinfolk to stay further away.
Then, his brows knotted deeply.