Chapter 241: The Parade of Nations
The world didn't just watch the Grand Continental Tournament; it vibrated with it.
We stood in the tunnel, the darkness pressing against our backs like a physical weight. Ahead, the arched exit was a mouth of blinding white light, swallowing the teams one by one. But it wasn't the light that made my skin crawl. It was the sound.
Imagine a thunderstorm trapped inside a tin can. Then multiply that by three hundred thousand screaming Dwarves, Humans, Elves, and Beast-kin. The noise wasn't just auditory; it was seismic. Dust sifted down from the reinforced stone ceiling of the waiting tunnel, coating our black and gold uniforms in a fine grey film.
"Check your gear," Arthur Pendragon commanded. His voice didn't rise to a shout, but it cut through the din with the precision of a blade. He stood at the front of the Arcadia formation, his posture rigid, his cape hanging perfectly still despite the tremors shaking the floor.
