The arena floor had begun to crack. Not from one fight, but from hundreds. Blades had scored deep lines across the earth. Fire had blackened its edges. Blood, ash, and glass shimmered like scattered rain under the arena's flickering dome.
Jin sat quietly in his suspended glass prism, arms crossed, eyes unblinking.
Another match ended below. A girl with a glaive spun forward, catching her opponent just under the ribs. A clean, practiced motion. The crowd—the combatants watching from their own prisms—didn't cheer. They hadn't cheered for a while now.
The spectacle had worn thin. What was left was survival.
Jin didn't know how long he'd been sitting like this—half-lost in the string of duels flashing below. It felt like an hour. Maybe more. He hadn't kept track after the first few names stopped being familiar.
Yujin and Jisoo were on either side of him. They hadn't spoken much either.
