Chapter 244: Whispers in the VIP Box
The air in the Platinum Hall smelled of expensive wine, rare perfumes, and suppressed ambition.
After the grueling opening match in the heat of the Iron Grid, the "Welcome Reception" felt like a different world.
The organizers had spared no expense. The ceiling was a dome of enchanted glass showing a perfectly clear, simulated night sky, free of the Ironhold's eternal smog.
Waiters—automatons plated in gold—glided silently between guests, offering trays of delicacies that probably cost more than a commoner's house.
But underneath the civility, the tension was thick enough to cut with a dull knife.
"Smile," Arthur murmured, adjusting his cufflink. "We represent Arcadia. Look like winners, not survivors."
"Easy for you to say," Eric grumbled, rubbing a burn on his cheek that the healers hadn't fully erased. "You didn't have to stand in the steam."
