The thirty-minute break had brought an unusual calm to the blood-soaked arena. Survivors ate mechanically while newcomers tried to process their sudden displacement. The servant maids moved between platforms with practiced efficiency, offering food and water to fighters who'd either just survived hell or were about to enter it.
On one of the platforms near the arena's center, Seth sat cross-legged, methodically eating bread and dried meat. His blue-glowing eyes never stopped moving, constantly scanning, analyzing, cataloging every detail of his surroundings even while his body refueled.
Ryan stood beside him, arms crossed, barely touching the food despite having regenerated extensive injuries. His calm demeanor suggested he was either completely at peace with their situation or had simply stopped caring about the danger.
"Excuse me?"
