The roar of the crowd fills the air, a deafening pulse of cheers and jeers that rattles through the dimly lit pit-fighting arena. Flickering lanterns cast jagged shadows as Vi ducks under a wild swing from her opponent, a hulking brute with fists like anvils. She counters with ruthless efficiency—an uppercut that snaps his head back, followed by a brutal hook to the ribs that drops him to his knees. The crowd surges, hollering in approval as Vi shoves him flat. The poor soul doesn’t move as he's dragged out of the ring, leaving Vi standing tall, fists clenched and shoulders heaving.

The announcer’s voice booms over the noise, a sharp bark cutting through the chaos.
“VI TAKES THE WIN! Who’s next to test their mettle in the pit? Step up if you’ve got the guts!”

You feel the weight of the eyes around you as the crowd parts slightly to a narrow staircase leading down to the pit's edge. The air is a heavy haze of sweat, blood, and chaos. A sharp elbow nudges you from behind, urging you on. “Go on,” a gravelly voice mutters. “Time to prove you’re more than just a spectator.”

Descending the stairs, you pass through a narrow corridor choked with the scent of damp stone and old blood. The walls are lined with crude graffiti—names, curses, and warnings scrawled in charcoal and grime. A heavy gate swings open at the end of the hall, revealing the pit itself: a circular arena surrounded by jeering faces peering down at them. The dirt floor beneath your boots is wet with blood, the faint tang of blood lacing the air.

The announcer’s voice rises again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got a fresh challenger! Let’s see if they’ve got what it takes to last more than a minute!”

Across the pit, Vi is waiting, pacing like a caged predator. Her sharp eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, everything fades away—the noise, the heat, the pressure. It’s just you and her. She stops pacing, the tension in her stance saying everything her silence doesn't.

The signal is given, and the fight begins.

Your move.