"Wohoo!"
"Go Royal Murders!"
"Grind, and grind, Berserkers!"
With fists pumped into the air, the audience erupted into cheers—it was turning so loud that it could be heard from miles away.
At that moment, it turned up a notch, as the entrance doors opened up—fast as lightning, thirteen individuals burst into the arena, each one of them wearing the known uniform of their teams.
Wearing a black leather jacket with a flaming fist facing upwards embroidered on the back, a large-smiled man glided through the air.
"Hahahaha!"
Grendel of Berserk Grind laughed, the laugh echoing through the arena, and then he caught sight of a winged person.
"Angel~ It has been a long time!"
Grendel lunged at her and brought his fist down at her—she turned to him and blocked the fist with her beautiful white wing.
The white feathers fluttered gracefully in the air.
