Elara wiped blood from her eyes, her gaze cold and steady.
The Announcer stepped toward her, his grin wide and wild. He held out the shard, its surface slick with Ravel's life, droplets falling to the frost below. "Your prize, Croft," he said, his voice dropping to a purr. "Wear it well."
She took it, her armored hand closing around the jagged crystal. Blood smeared her fingers, mixing with her own, but her expression didn't shift—just a slow, deliberate nod.
The Announcer spun back to the crowd, raising his mic high. "That's all for tonight, my lovely chaos-lovers!" he shouted, his tone dripping with theatrics. "Sleep tight—dream of blood and shards, 'cause we'll be back soon for more!"
He snapped his fingers, a sharp crack echoing through the pit.
The arena shimmered, the gravel blurring, the torches fading to black.
Elias blinked, the platform dissolving beneath his boots.
