Maxwell stared at Vera while the noise of hundreds of thousands of cheering spectators continued to fill the Arena.
The sound was almost overwhelming.
Voices came from every direction, with some people shouting Vera's name while others continued supporting Maxwell. Banners moved above the stands, and the large holographic screens displayed both finalists from different angles.
Yet Maxwell barely noticed any of it now.
His golden eyes were now fixed and focused on the girl standing several meters away from him.
I have finally made it into the finals.
The thought came naturally.
After everything he had gone through, after facing so many opponents and passing through his earlier matches with a noticeable ease at least for the most earlier part, he had finally reached the final match of the Grand First-Year Combat Festival.
But another thought followed immediately.
Maxwell remembered the tenth round.
He remembered Ezra.
