The Grand Arcane Arena pulsed with energy, its mana-charged air crackling as the scoreboard flickered to life.
Glowing arcane glyphs danced across its surface, announcing in bold, shimmering letters:
Round One – Precision Target: Ten Meters.
The words hung like a challenge, daring the competitors below to rise or fall.
A sharp whistle sliced through the coliseum, final as a guillotine.
Then the announcer's voice boomed, carried by enchanted winds. "Next group—Class D!"
Laughter erupted from Class C's crowded rows, sharp and cruel, like they'd been waiting to unleash it.
Joren's slicked-back hair gleamed as he leaned forward, smirking. "Here come the clowns!"
Lila's ponytail whipped as she cackled, her sharp eyes glinting with malice.
The jeers echoed, amplified by the arena's magic, stinging like a swarm of wasps.
Class D's rickety corner groaned as they rose, the splintered benches creaking under their weight, as if the wood itself doubted their worth.
