Zaroth gripped his spear tightly as he smiled darkly, and his eyes shined with dangerous intensity.
'How lucky… Midnight needed help on the day of my third fight of the tournament. Meaning that I am already geared up and ready for combat,' he thought as he glanced around the room.
Midnight was against the wall with numerous wounds on her body, surrounded by about a dozen people wearing white robes.
"I think they are the Purifiers," he muttered under his breath as he flicked his fingers and summoned the four wolves he had tamed in the forest before.
It was finally time to use them in combat.
"Who the hell are you, and what are you doing at these holy grounds?!"
Hearing a male voice, Zaroth shifted his gaze until his eyes landed on a man holding a great shield and a sword.
'Is that supposed to be their leader?' he wondered.