In the stands, the hushed whispers grew more and more animated as the cloaked ones discussed what they had just seen.
"Hey, that Gilles—or Gil, was it? He must be... right?" Someone asked in a hushed, excited tone, peeking toward the highest layer of the stands.
"One of those guys? Yeah, I thought so too," another one acquiesced, sounding equal parts in awe and envious.
"I don't see any other way to explain what we saw, otherwise," another, older spectator chimed in more composedly.
"So he really is like those people above?!" the first one said, becoming increasingly excited.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. It looked to me like he didn't even know what he was doing himself. So, comparing him to those above is a bit—" another one said, aiming for objectivity but unable to hide the hint of sourness in his voice before he was cut off by his peers.
"Ha! You're just jealous, and no one is born strong. At least, even if we don't count how he killed that beast, his performance wasn't bad overall,"
the veteran from earlier exposed him mercilessly, offering his own evaluation.
The one who had been cut off, clearly upset, finally snapped back without holding anything in.
"He was just lucky, that's all! And don't go thinking he has any good days ahead of him. Let's not forget he killed one of Sir Lucius's pets. Even though Sir Hector shields him now, who knows how long that will last?"
He spat out everything on his mind in a single breath and walked away without waiting for an answer.
The remaining onlookers exchanged glances before one of them muttered,
"I don't like that bitter fellow much, but he isn't wrong. Attracting the Sirs' attention isn't always a good thing. And setting the Sirs aside, those directly above us are bound to get restless too, and then..."
He pointed discreetly toward the higher layers and shook his head, falling silent.
Understanding his meaning, the others quickly changed the topic, turning their attention back to reviewing the rest of the test and the other captives who had caught their eye.
In the higher layers, just below the lounge of the Sirs...
Those gathered there were also talking about Gil.
"So, what do you guys think of him?" a young man looking to be in his late twenties asked, casually addressing the crowd.
After a brief pause, responses echoed around the group.
"He doesn't look like he was formally trained in anything. His footwork is clumsy, and his offensives are even worse if we don't count what he did at the end. He is a complete rookie," the first to speak criticized Gil.
Another added, "I agree. It was a total mess, and he almost fell on his face trying to help someone else."
"Hihihihi! Indeed! And remember when he fainted before that? It was so funny,"
a woman mocked, laughing loudly and prompting several others to chuckle along with her.
"Now, now, let's not be too harsh on him, folks, shall we? Personally, I found him rather decent. Listen to me first," a fourth person spoke up, raising his hand to placate the first critic, who looked ready to spark an argument.
Once he was sure everyone was listening, he continued, raising a finger.
"First, I don't know why he fainted, but I don't think it was out of fear. On the contrary, unlike most, he wasn't fazed much by Sir Lucius's pets upon seeing them, nor did he break down when they transformed. You've got to give him credit for that."
He paused for effect. "I don't know what his life was like on the outside for him to turn out that way, but I don't think many among us could have fared any better during their first encounter with those things..."
Pausing again, he looked around and received nods from his peers.
Even the ones who had spoken poorly of Gil earlier nodded reluctantly.
Satisfied, he pursued his point, raising a second finger.
"Second, even though he indeed fights like a rookie without a single proper technique to his name—that's fine. He can learn."
Taking a quick breath, he continued, "But what can't be taught, he already has inside him. He possesses remarkably sharp combat instincts and genuine guts. I don't know if you noticed, but he reacted instantly when the beast first dashed at his friend. Later, though I have no proof, I'm pretty sure he willingly sacrificed his own arms just to pin the beast down."
He paused once more, a look of personal bewilderment crossing his face as he reflected on his own observations.
"Speaking of which, where did Sir Hector even find that guy? Has the outside world become so brutal already that it's normal for a kid to make such a ruthless choice without hesitation?"
The others looked at one another, equally confused.
But if the speaker's analysis held weight, Gil was truly someone who shouldn't be taken lightly.
Seeing that no one had an answer, the speaker raised a third finger, his tone suddenly turning dead serious.
"Finally, don't forget that it was he who led the others to target the eyes and flanks of Sir Lucius's pets."
At those words, the rest of the group snapped to attention.
That was right.
The final move had been so attention-grabbing that they had almost forgotten about that detail.
Where had a rookie learned to coordinate like that? Even though it had ultimately done more harm than good by triggering the beast's violent transformation, it definitely wasn't strategic knowledge a complete amateur should have possessed.
Was it a total fluke? After all, the areas he had designated were common weak points for most living creatures, so it could have been a stroke of pure luck.
It was entirely possible he had just tried his luck and struck gold.
But then there was that final, enigmatic move—the one that had silently and tracelessly snuffed out the beast's life.
Looking at the completely intact corpse and remembering how suddenly it had dropped dead, a collective shiver ran down their spines.
Someone couldn't help but whisper,
"Did anyone actually see how he did... that?"
The others exchanged uneasy glances until someone answered hesitantly,
"I saw a faint flash, or maybe a spark... I'm not entirely sure."
He sounded so uncertain of his own eyes that, since no one else seemed to have noticed it, he simply chalked it up to an optical illusion.
Silence fell over the gathering as a lingering unease scratched at the back of their minds.
Even among them, not many could boast achieving the exact same result.
The man who had asked for their initial impressions suddenly broke the silence again.
"We can just observe him more later. I don't believe it will stump us for long."
Looking around at the crowd, he asked,
"What I am really asking is, how do we handle him? There is a high chance he will become one of us. You know the rules. If he comes up here, then..."
Those words instantly shifted the atmosphere.
Some looked unbothered, while others appeared deeply worried, their expressions turning grim as if they were suddenly staring down a major threat.
Seeing the shifts in their expressions, a faint smile played on the speaker's lips. As if he wasn't entirely satisfied yet, he opened his mouth to press further, but a different voice cut through the air before he could say another word.
"Anyway, he just arrived here. There is still a long way to go before that ever happens, so nobody get any funny ideas."
Those words effectively dispelled the budding restlessness of those present, causing them to sigh in relief, though they grew noticeably warier of the people trying to stir the conversation.
The first man looked toward the speaker with deep displeasure.
The voice had come from a bit farther away from the group, where a lone man sat by himself, watching the youths down on the arena floor.
He was one of the few looking at them without indifference, ill intent, or amusement at their predicament.
In his gaze, there was only empathy, weariness, and a quiet sense of helplessness.
The leader of the gathering frowned slightly. He didn't openly lash out at the man, but he wasn't ready to back down either.
Instead, he challenged, "But do you think he can actually make it up here or not?"
Without turning his head, the lone man replied smoothly, "I don't know yet. But that's fine. I have all the time in the world to get to know him better, as the one in charge of training the rookies."
His tone was light, but it carried a definitive weight that made his stance on the matter perfectly clear.
The first man's expression twisted.
He stared intently at the trainer for a long moment, then stood up and turned to leave, tossing a bitter parting remark over his shoulder.
"How long do you intend to continue this foolish endeavor? It won't bring those people back."
After a long while, the trainer was the only one left sitting in the stands.
As if talking to the empty air, he murmured, "I know. I know it all too well..."
He stared into the void, his expression looking temporarily lost, but he quickly composed himself.
His gaze turned fiercely determined and unyielding as he stood up, finishing the thought in his mind.
But at least I am doing what I can. No matter how small or useless it may seem, that is enough.