Then the emissary's voice boomed across the arena:
"Now, the two warriors have entered the preparation zone. The moment you've all been waiting for has come. Both opponents, prepare yourselves!"
The coliseum fell silent — tens of thousands of eyes locked on the massive iron gates. The air tasted like metal and expectation.
"Nolan! Step into the arena!"
The gate before him slid open with a deep, grinding groan. A flood of sunlight and thunderous noise burst in as Nolan stepped through the tunnel. His boots struck the stone floor with calm, deliberate rhythm — each step a percussion that matched the crowd's heartbeat.
When he emerged, the arena erupted —
"Nolan! Nolan! Nolan!"
The sound hit him like a physical wave. He stopped at the center, cloak swaying in the wind, his expression unreadable — eyes steady, waiting. For a moment the world seemed to frame him: sunlight, sand, and a ring of roaring faces. A thin smile ghosted across his mouth, like a calm before a storm.
