The arena was fire and silence.
Smoke coiled from the seven great braziers, their flames painting the sky in molten gold. Obsidian sand shimmered underfoot, and for a single breathless moment, no one moved.
The eight survivors stood at angles around the intruder, muscles coiled, weapons drawn, eyes flicking like wolves sizing up an unknown predator. The Stranger stood alone at the center, sword lowered casually, black armor absorbing all light, like a void carved into the heart of the fire.
From the Noble's Box, panic spilled in every direction.
"Who IS that man?!"
"Someone find his name—now!"
"I'm doubling my bet! No—triple it!"
Runners were already sprinting down the corridors beneath the stands, dispatched into the city to scrape up anything about a warrior in black steel.
In the Royal Pavilion, the tension was palpable.
