The roar of the crowd had barely died down when Thomas staggered to his feet. Blood trickled from his lips, and his chest heaved with each ragged breath. He lifted his head, eyes blazing with defiance.
"Wait," he called out, voice echoing across the silent arena. "I'm not done yet."
Arthur, still standing where he had struck, turned slowly. His long white-and-gold hair swayed in the wind. A faint smile curved his lips as he regarded Thomas.
"You really want more?" Arthur asked, voice soft yet full of power.
Thomas nodded, though his legs shook. "Yes. I… I have one more secret."
A murmur rose from the audience. Even the elders leaned forward, curious. Thomas reached behind his back and tore open his outer robe. Beneath it gleamed an ancient armor of deep crimson. Strange patterns, like winding rivers of fire, ran across every plate.
