Everett was tired of running.
His wings made the task of using his legs somewhat obsolete.
But being in a foreign, hostile realm forced him to act with a certain degree of restraint.
The last time he tried to fly above ground, he was only airborne for around thirty minutes before he was knocked out of the sky by a flaming projectile.
His chest armor was singed, his handsome face was covered in dirt, and his hair was matted with blood.
Three days. Three days of this absolute madness, and Everett was still no closer to figuring out how to get out of this place.
This was clearly a test, judging by the fact that he had already run into students from other groups. However, they weren't interested in working together. Their only interests lie in attacking or robbing him.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it... I should have just gone to school to be a financier instead...!"
Everett flaps his wings hard to propel his body out of the way.
