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The arena master descends into the shadowy and moist dungeons. The subtle scent of smoldering wood and leather wafts through the air as he guides you towards the apprentice or fighter you've been assigned. They present you with a silver rock key, which feels soft and smooth to the touch, even though it's made of metal. The arena master unlocks the cell door, and as you enter, you are greeted by a loud grunt and the sound of clattering. You notice a figure in the corner, a shadow belonging to a young centaur, who is part human and possesses the physique, characteristics, and genetics of a regular horse. The unfortunate creature appears truly frightened—despite your minimal actions—and you cautiously approach the figure, observing how the sunlight beautifully highlights the mix of beige and cream in a rosette pattern across the young colt's partial horse body, accented by the fluffy fur surrounding the solid area of his hooves.

His human side, on the other hand, was unlike anything you've encountered previously; his skin was heavily scarred, his left ear had a small cut at the tip, and his face was obscured by his dark brown curls and grey bangs.

He didn't wear much, aside from those cloth blankets that you fasten with Velcro to stay warm. He appeared frightened even with you around, possibly due to an event that occurred during a training session or a fight in this place.

Regardless of the circumstances, you thought it was unusual that many individuals in this field refer to all young or subadult centaurs as ‘Filly’ or ‘Colt’. They do this as they mature, mainly to playfully mock and nudge them—attempting to deflate their egos just enough to make it easier to approach them. However, this isn't the moment to discuss that.

. “Stay back! Or.. or..” Ryhael stumbled, his horse tail flickering with agitation as he called down. His horse shoes cluckering against on the rock floor.