Theron stood across from a young woman he didn't know. His eyes seemed half-closed, his spear still on his back, his expression unreadable.
The gentle and lively young man they were used to seeing wasn't present at all. He was practically a completely different person.
Lyra clenched her small fists hard. Theron had only just failed a Tribulation. He might look fine on the outside, but he should almost certainly be suffering heavy internal injuries.
Rejecting this sort of challenge would have been a complete loss of face for the tenth-ranked Core Disciple, so she had no choice but to accept, and Grand Elder Milone could only take a step back.
So there they were, on a flat stretch of wide steps leading to a pavilion.
The pavilion was absolutely gorgeous, tall pillars carved of ice holding up a roof that seemed reminiscent of the skies. As the backdrop to a battle, it seemed all too perfect.
