The ring was small. Octagonal. Threadsteel corners. Scorch marks old and new across the floor. The stands weren't really stands, just raised platforms, crates, benches. No tiered seating, no announcements. Just observation.
Gen was already there.
Leaning against a wall just inside the viewing arch, sipping something iced out of a metal canister that looked way too fancy for the setting.
"Glad you made it," he said without turning.
Lucen stopped beside him.
"You weren't kidding. This place smells like bad decisions."
Gen smiled. "That's the charm."
Lucen scanned the ring. One fighter pacing in the far corner. Short, lean, low stance. Physical type. Bladed gauntlets. No armor.
No audience cheering.
Just eyes watching.
"How clean is this?" Lucen asked.
Gen sipped again. "No guild. No uploads. No kills, technically. Just pain."
Lucen nodded. "My favorite kind."
"You'll get one match. That's how it works here. No rematches. No spell recording."
