The following demonstrations were just as swift and decisive as Akron's.
From his seat, Nioh observed carefully. It was easy to separate those who had received formal training from those who had none—the difference in refinement was obvious.
Yet, he still hadn't found what he was looking for.
He wasn't searching for strength alone.
He wanted someone sharp, unpredictable—a true individual. Someone who wasn't molded by a faction but had the raw potential to be polished into something greater.
As the number of candidates dwindled, so did his hopes.
"Sigh, they're all so weak," Akron muttered.
"It's not that they're weak." Nioh's voice was barely above a whisper. "They have no personality."
That's when she walked into the arena.
She was about the same height as Akron, with pitch-black curls that bounced with each step. Her orange and blue outfit stood out boldly against the dull surroundings.
Her presence was impossible to ignore—unshaken, effortless, completely her own.
