Beneath the flawless, sun-drenched morning sky, the colossal arena vibrated with a deafening, thunderous roar.
Thousands of voices merged into a singular living wave of sound that bounced off the stone. The hype was a force that rattled beneath the foot of each and every person present.
Every section of the massive stands was a vibrant mix of national colors and loud tribalism.
In the northern stands, the citizens of Tricea waved pristine silver banners, shouting statistics about their magi-tech enhancements and the calculated efficiency of their contestants.
To the east, the Myrian's chanted with precise coordination, pumping glowsticks up high and waving flags of encouragement for their representatives.
Across the way, the merchant lords and sailors of Riverton cheered with boisterous laughter, throwing gold-trimmed confetti into the wind.
But the loudest of roars came from the southern seats – the heart of Eldoria.
