The Iron Ring operated out of a converted warehouse in the Docklands.
James and Finn paid at the door and took two seats above the ring, high enough to see the whole floor without being swallowed by the crowd. The place was packed shoulder to shoulder, loud in the way only Challenger crowds got loud, with people arguing over brackets, guild scouts watching from tinted booths along the upper level, and fighters moving in and out of the tunnels below.
The ring sat in the center of it all, sunk slightly below the stands and sealed behind reinforced glass and layered barrier tech. Every time a heavy strike landed in the earlier bouts, the barrier shimmered upward like disturbed water before fading back into place. Blood-cleaning drones moved along the floor between matches, quick and silent, while medics waited near both exits with the bored focus of people who expected someone to leave on a stretcher.
Above the ring, the bracket board shifted.
QUARTER-FINAL — BRACKET TWO
