[POV: Oliver Atticus]
"Oh? I think it's my lucky day," Oliver muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he closed the distance between him and the group of six students.
They barely had time to react.
"P-Prince! My father is—"
SLASH.
The body hit the ground before the words finished.
"I don't care about your father. Show your worth here." Oliver said.
The rest barely put up a fight.
He moved like a shadow, cutting through them in seconds.
The last student standing didn't even try to resist—just dropped their weapon and ran.
Oliver let him.
He glanced at his blade, the blood dripping from its edge. "Forty-one."
Another step closer.
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<< Comments >>
— "As expected of the prince. Efficiency at its finest."
— "Glad I bet on him—worth every damn coin."
— "He's not fighting. He's farming aura."
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[POV: Vynesaa El'Leather]