The silence in the meeting room was deafening after the broadcast ended. Everyone stood frozen, minds racing, trying to process what they'd just witnessed. Seventy-four matches. Seventy-four deaths. Not a single victory against even one Centurion.
And they had three days before it was their turn.
"We can't just sit here," Aria finally said, breaking the paralysis. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the shock. "We need to do something. Anything."
"What do you suggest?" Nyla asked, though her tone wasn't dismissive—she genuinely wanted ideas.
Aria's jaw tightened, her hand moving instinctively to her blade. "We kill Jeren. Directly. If the Titan dies, the tournament dies with him, right? No more compulsion. No more arena. No more Centurions."
The room stirred. Several people sat up straighter, hope flickering in their eyes.
