The sprawling colosseum roared with the deafening, entirely bloodthirsty screams of thousands of adrenaline-fueled spectators.
Up in the elevated secured stone viewing galleries specifically assigned to the competing factions, Lyra stepped forward.
She stood incredibly close to the carved marble railing, leaning her weight against the cold stone and looking directly down into the massive sunken dirt pit below.
Her newly polished chainmail clinked softly against the stone.
Down there, thirty feet below the safety of the VIP balcony, lay the meat grinder.
The air in the subterranean venue was hot... It was practically baking under the oppressive heat of the dozens of glowing magical illumination orbs suspended near the rock ceiling as each sphere was glowing over-compressed fire mana.
Down in the main dirt arena, a preliminary qualification match was currently underway.
Two highly skilled scarred veteran combatants were locked in a duel.
