The roar of the colosseum was deafening.
A thunder of feet stomped the blacksteel stands. Nephirid of every caste filled the air with war cries, their voices rising like fire-fed wind.
"TZAREK!"
"TZAREK!"
"TZAREK!"
The name echoed through the obsidian arena like a drumbeat of war.
Down below, under the burning sigils of the combat dome, two figures stood locked in a deadly standoff.
One, a towering Nephirid warrior with coal-gray skin, veins pulsing with molten orange. His spear gleamed with runic carvings, flickering as if alive.
Every breath he took sent dust rippling across the stone floor. He was a captain of the Ash Legion.
Across from him stood Tzarek.
His upper body bare, revealing layers of battle-hardened muscle twisted with burn scars and sigil brands. He held no weapon, only two crimson fang daggers. His eyes were narrowed. Calm. Focused.
A gong boomed above.
"BEGIN!"
The challenger dashed forward, spear stabbing straight at Tzarek's throat.
