Chapter 388: Besties

This was the martial arena. Weapon racks stood off to the side, crammed with every kind of blade and bludgeon imaginable. Three racks were carried over. The premier young scions turned to choose their weapons, gripping them as they came back, and the looks they threw at Miller Cutmore were almost pitying. People had seen idiots courting death before, but never someone trying this hard, like he was afraid dying might take too long. The referee on the field called to Miller, "You may choose a weapon." Miller...