Magnus slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the room. Dust floated lazily in the air, caught in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the high windows. The space was sparse, with a simple bench and a few scattered weapons lying about, clearly a place meant for contestants to prepare themselves for something—though what, Magnus wasn’t yet sure.
Outside his door, he could hear the clamor of people walking by, their voices carrying as they shouted into each room. "Prepare yourselves!" they called, the urgency clear. It was a chaotic scene, a flurry of activity that set Magnus on edge.
He pushed himself up, his muscles aching, when suddenly, the door to his room swung open. Standing in the doorway was a man he recognized immediately—Floyd. The sight of him sent a surge of anger through Magnus.
"Oh, hello, Magnus," Floyd greeted, his voice dripping with false cheer. Magnus didn't hesitate. He charged at Floyd, fury driving him forward. But as he lunged, something around his neck tightened suddenly, cutting off his air. He gasped, clutching at his throat as Floyd casually pressed a device in his hand, watching with a smirk.
"That's not nice," Floyd said, his tone calm and mocking. "It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. Maybe start with a hello next time?"
Magnus coughed, struggling to speak as the pressure around his neck increased. "You... I'm going to kill you..."
Floyd raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. "You can try," he replied, almost bored. "If you manage to make it to the final round." He took a step back, still holding the device that controlled the collar around Magnus’s neck. "Well, if you don’t mind, I have other business to attend to," Floyd added, his tone casual as he turned to leave.
Magnus left the room and found himself in a bright, open hallway that stretched out in both directions, lined with rooms similar to the one he had just exited. The stone walls and arched ceilings reminded him of ancient gladiatorial arenas, but the brightness and activity within the hallway were far from the oppressive atmosphere of a prison. Natural light streamed in from high windows, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. Dust swirled in the air, kicked up by the various species practicing with their weapons or engaging in tense conversations.
The hallway was a cacophony of noise, with creatures of all shapes and sizes moving about, each focused on preparing themselves for whatever challenge lay ahead. The sense of urgency and tension was palpable, making it clear that this was no ordinary gathering.
As Magnus walked through the bustling corridor, trying to make sense of his surroundings, someone suddenly bumped into him, nearly knocking him off balance. "Hey, move your stupid face!" snarled a Gorgak, a species of hulking, reptilian humanoids with scaly, mottled green skin and sharp, jagged teeth. The Gorgak glared at him with its four glowing yellow eyes, its powerful tail swishing behind it in irritation before it pushed past him.
Magnus glanced around, realizing that no one seemed particularly concerned about anything but their own preparation. He approached a nearby creature, a Torthan—a squat, insectoid being with a chitinous exoskeleton and multiple twitching antennae. "What is this all about?" Magnus asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The Torthan gave him a confused look, its mandibles clicking as it responded in a high-pitched voice, "To win, of course! Just how hard did you hit your head, pal?" It then turned away, clearly uninterested in further conversation.
Suddenly, the ground shook slightly, and dust fell from the ceiling as the deafening roar of a crowd outside echoed through the hallway. A moment later, a lizardman was dragged inside by some Feryx guards—tall, feline-like creatures with sleek fur, elongated limbs, and razor-sharp claws—and thrown onto the floor. The lizardman looked battered and injured, its chest heaving as it struggled to breathe.
"Next group, prepare yourself!" a voice bellowed, and a group of creatures lined up, weapons in hand, ready to march into the arena.
Magnus still couldn’t fully grasp the situation, but a sinking feeling in his stomach told him that whatever was happening, it wasn’t going to end well for him. He retreated back into his room, grabbed an axe from a rack, and tried to steady himself.
Before he could gather his thoughts, a Feryx guard stormed into the room. "Oi! Get in line!" the guard barked, smacking Magnus with a baton, forcing him to join the others in the hallway.
Magnus had no choice but to comply. As he took his place in the line, he couldn’t help but wonder what fate awaited him beyond the bright, open hallway and the roaring cheers of the unseen crowd outside.
As Magnus and his group were herded into the bright, sandy arena, the intense sunlight beamed down on them, making the already sweltering day feel even hotter. The arena was vast and imposing, its design meant to both awe and terrify those within it. The ground was a treacherous mix of loose sand and hard-packed earth, dotted with platforms and traps that could spell disaster for the unwary. A massive sand wall dominated the center, stretching high into the air, blocking Magnus's view of what lay on the other side. It effectively separated the arena into smaller, isolated battlegrounds, each one a deadly stage for the combatants.
Magnus squinted against the harsh sunlight, taking in the chaotic scene around him. The heat was oppressive, the kind that made the air shimmer and every breath feel like a struggle. The distant murmur of the crowd grew louder, a sea of indistinct voices that only added to the tension.
Suddenly, the booming voice of the announcer echoed throughout the arena, amplified by some unseen magic or technology. "Welcome to round two of the arena, Demons and Monsters!" the voice roared, causing the crowd to erupt in a deafening cheer. "Place your bets on whoever you think will be the last one standing!"
Magnus scanned the faces in the crowd—an overwhelming mix of species, each one eager to witness the violence about to unfold. The noise was a cacophony of shouts, jeers, and roars, all blending into one relentless wave of sound that seemed to press down on him from every direction.
The announcer continued, his voice dripping with enthusiasm and malice. "We’ve already got a few contestants from the last round ready for the finals! Let’s see which one of these brave souls will be joining them!"
The wall in front of Magnus remained steadfast, preventing him from seeing what was happening on the other side. But he could hear it—the distant clashing of weapons, the shouts of combatants, and the ever-present roar of the crowd.
"Hey hey! Looks like some of our contestants maybe slept a little too nicely," the announcer's voice was filled with mockery. "The human in arena 4 is still sleeping, everyone! Anyone want to place a bet on him?"
Magnus's heart skipped a beat. Another human? He couldn’t see who it was or what condition they were in, but the fact that there was another human in this arena gave him a strange mix of hope and dread. Whoever they were, they were in just as much danger as he was.
He tightened his grip on the axe in his hand, his knuckles turning white. The sun bore down on him, and the heat rising from the sand made the air waver like a mirage. The thought of another human somewhere in this arena—a potential ally or a reminder of his own peril—made him even more determined to survive.
The announcer's voice echoed across the arena, hyping up the crowd even further. "We are still using the same rule here, folks! Last one alive gets to move on! No restrictions other than no special powers, so if any contestants want to experiment with their weapons, feel free! Artifacts and modified weapons are allowed!"
Magnus could feel the weight of the crowd's expectations, their eyes glued to the sandy battleground as the next round began. "Well then, let’s get started, shall we? In three... two... one... START!"
Barely had the words left the announcer's mouth when a nearby creature, covered in bright pink fur and wielding a jagged blade, charged at Magnus. The creature was small and nimble, darting across the sand with surprising speed. Magnus raised his axe just in time to block the initial strike, feeling the weak impact through the handle. It was clear that the creature lacked the strength to be a real threat. With a grunt, Magnus pushed the pink-furred attacker back and, without missing a beat, swung his axe in a wide arc. The creature was sent flying across the arena, its fur stained with sand and blood.
"Ooh, that's gotta hurt for the pinky!" the announcer's voice rang out. "The big guy in arena 2 starts off with a strong attack!" The crowd erupted in cheers, but Magnus had no time to relish his small victory. The arena was alive with chaos—creatures of all shapes and sizes clashing, the sound of steel against steel echoing through the sandy expanse.
As Magnus scanned the arena for his next opponent, he noticed a hulking brute with dark, leathery skin charging toward him. The brute wielded a massive mace, its spiked head gleaming in the sunlight. The creature swung the weapon with terrifying force, aiming directly for Magnus's head. He barely had time to raise his shield, the magical barrier shimmering as it absorbed the blow. The impact was so strong that it sent a shockwave through his body, pushing him back several steps. Magnus gritted his teeth, feeling the strain on his arm, but he stood firm, refusing to be overpowered.
"Whoa! That was a heavy hit!" the announcer exclaimed. "But our big guy isn’t going down that easily!"
The brute snarled in frustration, swinging the mace again with even more fury. Magnus sidestepped the blow and countered with a powerful swing of his own, his axe biting deep into the brute’s shoulder. The creature roared in pain, blood gushing from the wound, but before Magnus could deliver the finishing blow, he was forced to dodge as another contestant joined the fray.
A serpentine figure with shimmering scales lunged at him, twin daggers flashing in its hands. The serpent was fast and precise, each strike aimed to exploit any opening in Magnus's defenses. He parried the first dagger with his axe, but the second found its mark, slicing into his side. Magnus grunted, feeling the warm blood trickling from the cut.
"Looks like the big guy's not invincible after all!" the announcer crowed. "That serpent’s got some bite!"
Ignoring the pain, Magnus blocked the serpent’s next attack with his shield, the enchanted barrier holding firm. With a roar, he brought his axe down on the serpent, the blade cleaving through its arm. The serpent hissed in agony, recoiling from Magnus’s relentless assault. But before he could press the attack, another shadow loomed over him.
A second serpent, nearly identical to the first, slithered out from behind the brute’s massive frame. This one wielded a long spear, its sharp point glinting menacingly. The two serpents moved in perfect unison, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. The first serpent, despite its injury, feinted to the left while the second struck from the right, the spear aimed at Magnus’s chest.
Magnus was caught between the two attackers, his mind racing as he tried to anticipate their next moves. He parried the spear with his axe, the force of the blow rattling his arm, and twisted just in time to avoid the dagger aimed at his back. But as he turned, the first serpent’s tail whipped around, striking him across the face. The impact sent him reeling, his vision momentarily blurred.
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"Uh-oh, looks like the big guy’s in trouble now!" the announcer’s voice boomed, feeding off the crowd’s excitement. "Two against one, let’s see if he can handle it!"
Magnus shook off the dizziness and steadied himself. The two serpents circled him, their eyes gleaming with malice. They moved with fluid grace, their bodies almost blending into the sand as they prepared to strike again. Magnus knew he couldn’t afford to let them corner him. He had to act fast.
As the first serpent lunged at him again, Magnus feigned a retreat, drawing it in closer. The second serpent, sensing an opportunity, thrust its spear forward, aiming for his exposed side. But Magnus was ready. He dropped to one knee, letting the spear pass over his head, and swung his axe in a low, sweeping arc. The blade caught the first serpent by surprise, cleaving through its midsection with a sickening crunch. The creature let out a strangled hiss before collapsing to the ground, its life extinguished.
The second serpent hesitated, momentarily shocked by the brutal display. Magnus took advantage of the pause, springing to his feet with a burst of adrenaline. He lunged at the remaining serpent, his axe raised high. The creature barely had time to raise its spear in defense, but Magnus’s strength was overwhelming. The axe crashed down on the spear, shattering it into splinters. Before the serpent could react, Magnus brought his weapon down again, the blade sinking into its skull with a resounding thud.
The serpent’s body went limp, crumpling to the ground at Magnus’s feet. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, their cheers and applause deafening. Magnus stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion, blood dripping from his wounds. His body ached, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he was still standing. The bodies of his fallen opponents lay around him, a testament to his strength and skill.
"The big man strikes down two contestants like a beast!" the announcer shouted, his voice booming through the arena. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, their cheers and applause deafening.
Magnus stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion, blood dripping from his wounds. His body ached, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but he was still standing. The bodies of his fallen opponents lay around him, a testament to his strength and skill.
The wall began to lower slowly, the mechanism groaning as it descended. Magnus tightened his grip on his axe, the handle slick with sweat and blood. Dust swirled around him, kicked up by the vibrations of the arena floor. His heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of what was on the other side making his muscles tense.
Suddenly, a deafening thud echoed from the section beside his, so close that the ground beneath his feet shook violently. The force of the impact sent a cloud of dust billowing into the air, momentarily obscuring his vision. Magnus instinctively braced himself, his muscles tensing as he fought to maintain his balance. The sheer power behind the sound rattled his bones, and he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of monstrous force had just hit the arena floor.
He could hear the announcer’s voice, but it was almost drowned out by the reverberations of the crash and the roar of the crowd. All he caught was a single word: "...THE SLAYER"
Magnus’ instincts flared. Whatever had caused that impact was massive, and it was right next to his section. He squinted through the swirling dust, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay on the other side of the wall, but all he could see were shadowy shapes. The wall continued to lower, revealing more and more of the figure on the other side.
The crowd’s roar intensified, their excitement palpable. Magnus took a deep breath, his knuckles whitening around the axe. Whatever awaited him beyond that wall, he was ready to face it head-on.
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Liora slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the dim light filtering through the dusty room. She tried to move but quickly realized she was inside a small cage, the cold metal bars pressing against her back. The room was old and filled with forgotten things, with dusty tools and strange objects strewn haphazardly on a table just outside her cage. Beside her, in another cage, she saw Miss Elysia lying still.
Fear gripped Liora’s heart, and she pulled her knees to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. The unfamiliar surroundings made her feel tiny and helpless, and the tight space of the cage only made her feel more trapped. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, that might help them escape.
Suddenly, Miss Elysia stirred, and when she saw Liora was awake, she spoke softly, trying to calm her. "Liora, don't be afraid. I'll get us out of here."
Liora looked at Miss Elysia with wide, frightened eyes but nodded slowly. She tried to be brave, like Miss Elysia, but everything felt so scary. She looked around again, noticing the colorful lines floating in the air. They had always been there, ever since she could remember, but now they seemed different—brighter, more vivid, almost as if they were alive. Unlike the dark, menacing lines she had seen back in the manor, these lines seemed... friendly, almost comforting.
"Miss Elysia, where are we?" Liora asked in a small voice, still not sure if she wanted to know the answer.
Miss Elysia forced a reassuring smile, though Liora could see the worry in her eyes. "I don’t know exactly, Liora, but don’t be scared. Everything will be fine," she said softly. "The guards here called us 'rewards,' so I don't think they'll hurt us. Can you see anything else from your cage?"
But Liora wasn’t paying much attention to the room anymore. Her focus was on the colorful lines, which seemed clearer than ever before. They glowed softly, weaving through the air in intricate patterns, almost like a rainbow made of thread. She reached out a small hand, her fingers brushing against one of the closest lines. To her amazement, it felt solid, like she could really touch it. When she gently pulled on the line, a tool on the table outside their cages shifted slightly.
Miss Elysia's eyes widened in surprise. "Liora, was that you?" she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and hope. "Can you try to move some tools into my cage?"
Liora hesitated for a moment, her heart beating fast. She had always seen the lines, but they had never done anything before. But now, as she looked at Miss Elysia’s hopeful face, she nodded determinedly. She reached out again, this time focusing on a line that was connected to a small tool on the table. Concentrating hard, she gently tugged on the line, trying to will the tool to move toward Miss Elysia's cage.
The tool wobbled for a moment, then slowly slid across the table, inching closer to Miss Elysia’s cage. Liora’s eyes lit up with excitement, and a small smile spread across her face. This was something she could do—something that could help them.
Miss Elysia’s eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and relief. "Good job, Liora. Keep going, you’re doing great."
Liora continued to pull on the colorful lines, focusing all her energy on moving the tools one by one toward Miss Elysia’s cage. She didn’t fully understand how she was doing it, but she didn’t need to. All that mattered was that she was helping, and that meant Miss Elysia would be proud of her.
After a few minutes, Liora finally managed to pull the last tool close enough for Miss Elysia to reach. Miss Elysia's hand glowed softly as she wrapped her fingers around the tool, a look of determination on her face. She carefully positioned it against the lock on her cage, and with a quick, precise strike, the lock broke apart.
Miss Elysia pushed the cage door open and quickly stepped out, her movements fluid and purposeful. Without wasting a moment, she turned to Liora's cage, using the tool to break the lock. The door swung open, and Miss Elysia reached in, pulling Liora into a warm, protective embrace.
"Let’s get out of here," Miss Elysia whispered, her voice steady but urgent.
They moved cautiously down the dimly lit hallway, the faint glow of Miss Elysia’s magic providing just enough light to see by. The walls were rough and cold, made of stone that had been worn down by time. The air was damp, and the smell of earth and old, forgotten things filled their noses. There were no windows, no signs of the outside world—just an endless tunnel stretching in both directions.
The corridor felt like it was deep underground, far beneath the surface where the sun couldn't reach. Their footsteps echoed softly in the stillness, the only sound breaking the oppressive silence.
Liora clung to Miss Elysia's hand, her small fingers gripping tightly as they moved through the narrow passage. The walls seemed to close in around them, and the further they went, the more Liora’s heart pounded in her chest. She kept glancing back, half-expecting someone—or something—to come after them. But so far, they were alone.
The tunnel twisted and turned, each corner revealing another stretch of darkness. Liora tried to focus on the colorful lines still faintly visible in the air, using them to calm herself. She could feel the fear gnawing at her, but as long as Miss Elysia was with her, she knew she had to be brave.
As Miss Elysia and Liora moved cautiously down the dimly lit hallway, the air around them seemed to grow heavier, the silence pressing in on all sides. The rough, cold stone walls, worn down by time, only added to the sense of unease that filled the underground tunnel.
The faint glow of Miss Elysia’s magic provided just enough light to see by, casting flickering shadows that danced eerily against the walls. Liora clung tightly to Miss Elysia's hand, her small fingers gripping with a mix of fear and determination. Every so often, Liora would glance back, half-expecting something—or someone—to be lurking in the shadows behind them.
Then, suddenly, the ground beneath their feet trembled slightly. Liora froze, her eyes widening as she felt the vibrations running through the stone floor. The ceiling above them shook, sending small bits of dust and dirt cascading down like a light rain.
Miss Elysia paused, her eyes darting upward as the shaking intensified for a moment before subsiding. The sound of the ceiling groaning under the weight of the earth above echoed through the tunnel, a low, ominous rumble that made Liora’s heart race.
"What was that?" Liora whispered, her voice trembling.
Miss Elysia’s grip tightened around Liora’s hand as she carefully scanned the tunnel ahead. "I’m not sure, but we need to keep moving," she replied, her voice steady but filled with urgency.
They continued forward, but now with an added sense of dread hanging over them. The ceiling shook intermittently, each tremor sending more dust and loose stones falling to the ground. The oppressive darkness of the tunnel seemed to grow thicker with each step, the air feeling heavier and harder to breathe.
Liora could feel her heart pounding in her chest, each tremor making her jump slightly. The colorful lines she had seen earlier seemed to blur and fade as the vibrations disturbed the air around them. She clung even tighter to Miss Elysia, trying to focus on the warmth of her hand rather than the fear gnawing at her insides.
Miss Elysia moved with increased urgency, her eyes flicking from the walls to the ceiling, her senses heightened as she tried to navigate the twisting tunnel. The shaking grew more frequent, and Liora could see the tension in Miss Elysia’s posture, a silent signal that they needed to get out of this underground maze before it was too late.
The ceiling above them groaned again, louder this time, as if threatening to cave in at any moment. Liora could feel the vibrations in her bones, each tremor seeming stronger than the last. But she knew she had to be brave, had to keep moving forward with Miss Elysia.
Miss Elysia led Liora up a narrow, creaking staircase that spiraled upward through the dimly lit tunnel. The air grew slightly less oppressive as they ascended, though the sense of urgency remained. When they emerged at the top, they found themselves in a long, open hallway, illuminated by bright light filtering in from torches mounted on the walls. The hallway stretched in both directions, lined with rows of doors that led to small, dusty rooms.
The floor was uneven, covered in a thin layer of grime, and the walls bore signs of age and neglect, with cracks running through the stone and dust drifting down from the ceiling. Some of the rooms they passed had their doors slightly ajar, revealing creatures inside. Some lay on crude bedding, groaning in pain, while others appeared too exhausted to move, their bodies curled up in discomfort. Liora’s heart ached at the sight, and she tugged gently on Miss Elysia’s hand.
“Can we help them?” Liora asked, her voice soft with concern.
Miss Elysia shook her head, her expression grim. “Not now, Liora. We need to keep moving.” Her tone was firm but gentle, clearly understanding Liora’s compassion but knowing they couldn’t afford to stop.
As they moved further down the hallway, the faint sounds of cheering grew louder, a cacophony of voices that seemed to shake the very walls around them. The noise was overwhelming, and Liora’s small hand tightened around Miss Elysia’s as they continued toward the source of the commotion.
They found another staircase at the end of the hallway, and Miss Elysia carefully led Liora up. The stairs were steep, each step bringing them closer to the deafening roar above. When they reached the top, they found themselves in the stands of a massive arena.
Liora’s eyes widened as she looked around, taking in the sight of various creatures sitting around them, all cheering and yelling excitedly at whatever was happening below. The energy was electric, the air buzzing with anticipation and excitement. The crowd’s enthusiasm was almost tangible, a living force that seemed to pulse through the entire structure.
“What are they doing down there?” Liora asked, her small voice almost lost in the noise. She pointed toward the arena below, her curiosity piqued by the spectacle unfolding beneath them.
Miss Elysia looked down at the arena, her expression quickly shifting to one of shock. Her eyes widened in surprise, her gaze hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. The dust had begun to settle, revealing the figures in the arena more clearly. Liora glanced back after the dust had mostly died down and gasped as she recognized the people below.
“Mister Cedric, Mister Tristan, and Mister Magnus!” Liora exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of surprise and worry.
She stared at the three familiar figures in the arena, her heart pounding. Something about this felt wrong, like a bad dream. They had to do something, and fast. This wasn’t just a game; it was something really scary.
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“Cedric?” A familiar voice called out from the side, cutting through the chaos.
Cedric’s head snapped toward the sound, and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Tristan? Magnus?” He could hardly believe what he was seeing. His friends were here, alive, and finally reunited. Relief washed over him, and he felt a surge of emotions, the weight of his loneliness and exhaustion beginning to lift.
“I thought you were dead,” Tristan said, his voice thick with disbelief as he looked at Cedric, his eyes wide with shock.
“Wh-Where the hell have you been, Cedric? And… is that a dragon?” Magnus added, his gaze shifting to the massive, lifeless body of the white dragon nearby. The surprise was evident in his voice, the sheer improbability of the situation momentarily overwhelming him.
Before Cedric could answer, both Magnus and Tristan suddenly dropped to their knees, their hands clawing at the devices on their necks. They gasped for breath as the collars tightened around their throats, choking off their air. Cedric’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched in horror.
“Less talking and more fighting, please!” the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, the crowd’s cheers rising in response. But then, something strange began to happen to the dragon’s body. It started to shake violently, a bright light emanating from within its massive form.
The dragon’s body twisted and contorted, its essence seemingly drawn toward Tristan. The light flowed like a river of energy, spiraling through the air before being absorbed into the ring on Tristan’s finger. Tristan groaned in pain, his body convulsing as if he were being burned from the inside out. Then, just as suddenly, he collapsed, unconscious.
“Tristan!” Cedric shouted, rushing to his side despite his own injuries. He used his non-broken arm to shake Tristan, trying to rouse him. “Tristan, wake up!” he pleaded, desperation lacing his voice.
Tristan’s eyes suddenly snapped open, and an intense wave of fire exploded from his body, radiating outward in all directions. The flames licked across the ground, erupting with such force that the other contestants who had been charging toward Cedric were instantly knocked out, their bodies crumpling to the ground.
Tristan slowly stood up, his body glowing with an inner fire. He looked stronger, healthier than he had just moments before. With a casual flick of his finger, the devices around his and Magnus’s necks melted away, falling to the ground in molten puddles.
“Hey! No powers!” the announcer’s voice rang out in protest, but Tristan didn’t seem to care. His focus was on his friends and the situation they were in.
“Well then,” the announcer’s voice took on a more amused tone, “since we’ve got a bit of a situation here, Demons and Monsters, I’m going to have to change the rules a bit!”
The crowd roared in approval, their excitement palpable.
“Since these three contestants don’t seem interested in fighting each other, we’ll change the next round to a team fight! They’ll face our almighty champion and his team!”
The crowd’s cheers grew louder, their bloodlust evident as they anticipated the next battle. The announcer, feeding off their energy, added with a grin, “But since the blondie’s using his powers, should we raise the number for our champion?”
The arena erupted in agreement, the spectators eager for more carnage. Cedric, Tristan, and Magnus exchanged glances, the gravity of their situation settling in. This was far from over, and they would need to rely on each other to survive whatever came next.