The participants' lounge was a rectangular chamber carved into the lower level of the arena, with walls the same grainy sandstone as the exterior.
The room was dimly lit by a series of mana-crystals embedded along the ceiling, casting a pale bluish hue over everything.
Benches lined the walls, some cracked and worn from years of restless fighters waiting their turn. A few others were already seated—each one sizing up the newcomers like we were fresh meat tossed into a den of wolves.
I didn't mind.
In fact, I welcomed it.
I could feel their eyes on me, measuring, weighing. A few whispered to each other, but I didn't bother eavesdropping. If they thought I looked weak, they'd find out soon enough just how wrong they were.
Evelyn gave me a small pat on the shoulder before stepping away. "I'll head to the stands. Try not to get yourself killed before dinner."
"Can't promise anything," I muttered with a grin.
