The moment Zaroth entered the arena, memories surged in his mind. He had fought in many similar places when he was still participating in the tournaments held by Draconis. He also recalled the times he'd wagered all his money on Nightshade, always betting she would win—and, as usual, she always did.
'Isn't it funny? When I was betting in the illegal beast fights, I was using the name Hollow, and now I am using it again,' Zaroth thought, as a pale smile appeared on his lips.
But it wasn't just the memories; the moment he stepped into the arena, he found the atmosphere far more relaxing.
There were no naked, abused, scarred people lying on the ground, scavenging for scraps or waiting for someone to buy them and use them however they pleased.
Instead, there were only two types of people: those who had come to witness a good fight and those who were about to fight. Sure, the fighters were most likely forced into the ring, but for the moment, Zaroth decided to ignore that.
