Down by the tunnel, Tess finally dropped Edric's arm with a grunt.
"Ugh, you're heavy for someone who talks so much," she muttered, brushing the dust from her uniform. "Next time, learn when to keep your mouth shut, frost boy."
She adjusted her robe, smirk still curling her lips as she glanced back toward the arena, where the obsidian crest above had already begun to shift, announcing the next names.
The crowd's chatter surged again, hungry for the next clash. The air around the arena seemed to hum, mana threads flickering across the boundaries like waiting sparks.
Eran watched it all—calm, arms folded. The roar around him was a living thing, he let it wash over him and studied the reactions instead. Faces. Weakness pinpointed. Pride measured. Tess had just shown how quickly the crowd could flip from contempt to worship; Miyu had done the same a week prior. Advantage built in spectacle.
