Azgor's words barely register. Your gaze has already locked onto the king. Look at him… The one who sanctioned Vadis and Idius to mold you into this. The one who gave his blessing to your creation—your suffering.
If only you could one day make him pay.
"Hmm… now that's a thought I can get behind," Azgor muses, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Not now, child, but one day. Believe me—I'm all in."
"I know," you murmur. "One day, we'll make it happen."
You tear your eyes away, shifting your focus back to the arena.
Your eyes sweep the arena as you step further into the center, boots crunching on sand mixed with shards of broken armor and dried blood. Above, the sky is starkly blue, the sun's glare making the shadowed archways and entrances seem even darker, like the maw of some great beast. Every detail of this arena screams of violence, a place where the strong devour the weak and the crowd roars for more.
For a brief moment, the noise from the stands falters, replaced by a strange, collective hush. All eyes are on you now. You feel the weight of their gaze—tens of thousands of souls watching your every move. The crowd's cheers echoed through the arena, but beneath their applause, you sensed their fear. Those near the edge of the stands leaned back, avoiding your gaze, their unease almost tangible.
Azgor chuckles softly, breaking the silence in your mind. "Do you feel it, child? Their eyes, their terror. They can't decide whether to worship us or flee from us."