"Your brother is really going to come?" Maya's companion asked, looking at the empty spot in their instructors' seats.
"He will come." As she responded, Maya manipulated her vitalized twigs to entwine around her arms—though not as tender as those from the World Tree, these twigs could still protect their owner.
The first day was between the lower-grade apprentices from different churches, who would fight from the opening battle in the morning all the way until evening—if there were teams whose victory was indeed hard to distinguish, there might even be tie-breakers.
Compared to the middle-grade's clumsy performances, those of the lower-grade's had even less spectacle, but what can you do when the lower-grades' average age doesn't exceed ten years old?
At twelve years old, Maya was already over-aged here.
