Ainsworth stood proudly in the middle of the commoners, regarding each and every one of them with a sharp gaze that was filled with disdain. It was as if they were filth, and merely being in their presence made him disgusted. Ainsworth's lips tightened as though simply breathing the same air as them was an unbearable offense to his pride.
"Tsk, lowly scum." He sneered under his breath, his gaze locked on the least of the commoners—the one with the spear. A gold gleam flashed briefly in his visor. "Let's start by taking care of this one."
Sensing the heavy gaze of the prince, the young man who had spoken earlier raised his spear, pointing it at Ainsworth with trembling hands. "We won't go down without a fight!"
"Oh... are you threatening me?" Prince Ainsworth's cold voice rang out, cutting through the silence. Because of the tense silence all over the arena, everyone present heard the prince's threatening words.
