Rolin coughed as he put down the doll in his hand, it was pitch black, with flame-like wings extended, covering its delicate body.
The doll girl was nearly perfect, the structure comprising her body showed no defect at all; her face of silver casting appeared smooth and flat; and the crystal at her core bore no impurity.
Its craftsmanship could be said to stand at the peak of this era, in the same level under the same craftsmanship conditions, no one could surpass it.
However, Rolin soon clenched his hand into a fist beside his lips, breaking out into a fit of violent coughing, nearly bending over, an unusual flush appearing on his pale face. He released his hand, palm stained crimson, but his eyes were almost hollow, indifferent and calm, as he casually put down his hand.
He stood up straight, quietly waiting for admiration.
Yet there was no expectation in his expression, rather a certain nonchalance.
But the competition field remained somewhat quiet.
