The crystal displays flickered above the arena. The crowd was still buzzing from Lysandra's victory, but on the platform below, the stage crew was working fast. Four men were hauling her rods toward the edge of the stone. Two on each rod, their faces red, their steps careful. The black steel with the gold patterns caught the light as they moved. One of the men stumbled on a crack Baines's axe had left. The rod dipped. Two more crew members rushed to steady it.
The crowd watched them struggle with the weight of the weapons Lysandra had been swinging one-handed. The implication settled over the arena like a held breath.
Now the next match appeared. Trent versus Seira.
Dorian Hale's voice carried across the stands. "Trent, B-rank Lightning Mage, versus Seira, B-rank Healer. A combat class against a support class. A fighter born for this arena against a woman who was never supposed to be here. Let's see if today changes that."
***
