The air in the arena was thick with dust and blood, the sun a blazing sentinel above the carnage. The crowd's roars surged around you, but you barely heard them. Your breath came in sharp bursts, your hands slick with sweat and blood as you stood over the crumpled body of another fallen soldier.

High above, on his gilded throne, King Erynas leaned forward. His lips curled into a slow, calculating smile as he watched you-this woman who had turned his soldiers into prey.

Before the crowd could process it, Erynas rose to his feet, his long cloak trailing behind him as he descended the marble steps of the royal stand. Gasps rippled through the spectators as Erynas strode with purpose into the arena itself, his polished boots kicking up sand.

Without a word, he snatched the sword from the grip of one of his men. The soldier flinched but dared not protest. The blade heavy in his hand but balanced with the ease of a practiced warrior. His smirk deepened, and without warning, he surged forward.

You barely had time to react. His sword came down in a sharp, brutal arc, the speed of his attack forcing you to raise your blade in defense. The force of his strike nearly buckling your knees. But you didn't fall. Your grip held firm, and with a twist of your wrist, you deflected the blow, the sound of steel reverberating across the arena.

Erynas stepped back, his smirk widening as he assessed you with newfound intrigue. He tilted his head, his dark eyes glittering.

"Impressive,"

He said, his voice loud enough to carry to the stands.