Veric is still wiping blood from his face when he steps out of the circle.
Freya gathers the ice scythe without a word. The weapon breaks into white fragments before vanishing into her inventory, leaving a cold trace in the air. She still hasn't used Permafrost, and even so, she drew blood from Veric through both Undertow and Azure Dividends.
That's exactly why this club needs to exist.
Pretty wins teach little. Draws and ugly losses teach you where death sits waiting out there.
I look at the remaining names.
Rhayne Vesper.
Mira.
The next fight carries a different weight. Veric is proud enough to survive on stubbornness. Oliver is tough enough to take a beating until the lesson sinks into his bones. But Rhayne is different. Not weaker. Different. She carries too much fear in places a blade can't reach, and that makes me weigh her risks with too heavy a hand.
I pull another piece of leather from my inventory.
"One percent," I say.
Rhayne doesn't answer.
