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“Well, I can’t judge. I’ve done far worse for far less. Still, I can’t imagine Lupin would approve, nor will Cyrilo or any other beastman in the country. Slavery is already a foundation of Uther, and add the vitriol Galvin has been spewing, and it’ll put an even bigger target on their backs, and they won’t like it. I imagine that’s what concerns you, when things inevitably go south and blood spills. And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of my earlier warning.”“No, you don’t. I made your objections clear.”

He attacked Ingram, and the two went at it again, exchanging kicks and punches while the audience cheered them on. The winged fighters were throwing everything they had at each other, with adrenaline flooding their veins and the blood steaming as it flowed from their wounds. Every lesson they had ever learned, every technique they had acquired, every spark of experience they had, they directed into their moves, punching and kicking as hard as they could, with mana roaring around their limbs.

His opponent was a water mage, Phune, garbed in fitting robes and carrying a grimoire. He had a vague understanding of Phune’s magic, having heard the screams and seen the injuries his previous enemies had received when carried out of the ring. The ref started the match, and Phune was quick to open his grimoire while Seraph set off in a run.“Scalding Splash!” Phune cast.