— ZORYN —
The rest of the open bracket passes in a blur of sweat, sand, and screaming.
By the time the final gong rings, I've lost count of how many fighters have been dragged out of the arena limping, bleeding, or grinning like idiots despite the state they're in. The crowd is hoarse. The air is thick with heat and adrenaline. Somewhere near the lower stands, two boars are already arguing about a call that didn't go their way.
The announcer's voice booms overhead, crackling with barely restrained excitement.
"OPEN BRACKET CONCLUDES! FOUR HOURS UNTIL THE CHAMPION'S BRACKET COMMENCES!"
The arena erupts.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders as the tension finally shifts. It isn't gone, but it's… redirected.
Roan lets out a low whistle. "Welp. That's it."
"For them," I say.
He grins, sharp and proud. "For them."
