The Dawnstar Colosseum thundered with life.
A roaring tide of voices surged beneath the open sky as tens of thousands of citizens filled the grand arena, their cheers crashing against the stone walls like rolling waves. This was not merely entertainment—it was ritual. A weekly indulgence woven into the city's identity.
The seating rose in vast, concentric tiers. At the lowest levels, commoners packed shoulder to shoulder, their faces flushed with excitement. Above them sat merchants, minor clan leaders, and low-ranking officials, draped in silk and jewelry. Higher still were the noble balconies, guarded and discreet. And overlooking everything, elevated like a throne above the battlefield itself, stood the VIP stage—lavish, enchanted, and unmistakably dominant.
At its center, a stout dwarf lifted a shimmering artifact etched with amplification runes. His voice boomed across the colosseum, impossibly loud yet perfectly clear.
