"What the hell is he doing?" Renn whispered, leaning forward.
Michael's eyes narrowed.
The situation on the stage was odd to say the least.
The five wolves were starting to hesitate.
Despite their numbers and speed, they couldn't bring him down.
Worse, their instincts—finely honed from hunting weaker prey—were failing them. The boy didn't move like prey. He didn't even flinch.
Then came the strangest part.
He sat down.
Right there, in the middle of the arena, he sat cross-legged with his arms.
The arena was deathly quiet. The beasts growled, pacing around him, their ears flattened and fangs bared—but none lunged.
One stepped forward, snarled, and snapped its teeth—but the boy didn't move.
Like this everyone waited as more people were disqualified from the stage and more wolves were killed.
Now all the attention fully shifted to the bear like youth and the five wolves.
Without a sound, the middle aged man appeared in the stage.
