The word hadn't even finished echoing before the carnage started.
The injured participants—those who'd received no healing, who'd been hoping desperately for some miracle—faced their abyssal opponents with weapons that felt like toys.
The first to die was the man closest to where someone had stepped outside their platform. His beast was a wolf-like creature with too many eyes. It moved with blinding speed, and the man's injured leg couldn't support the dodge he attempted.
Claws tore through his chest. Blood sprayed. He fell.
Another fighter—a woman with a broken arm poorly bound—tried to defend herself one-handed against a serpent with venomous fangs. She lasted maybe fifteen seconds before the poison took her, body convulsing as the toxin shut down her nervous system.
A third man, wounded but still fighting, managed to land several good hits on his creature before exhaustion caught up with him. His guard dropped for just a moment. His opponent didn't need longer than that.
