The afternoon sun streamed down through the stained-glass windows at the top of the arena, painting the floor with hues of gold and scarlet. The runes delimiting the fighting circles pulsed intensely, heating the air like embers. The audience stirred, voices mingled in murmurs and shouts, and even the scribes seemed uneasy.
The tournament had reached the point where only the most feared names remained standing. The previous rounds had separated the ambitious from the true warriors. Now, each bout was a spectacle and a risk—and, above all, a statement.
The scribe stepped onto the central platform and raised his staff, his voice amplified by sonorous runes.
"Next fight! Victor... against Alaric Venn, the Swordsman of the Winds!"
