Arena Three was massive. It sat at the eastern edge of the training grounds, carved into a small hill like an amphitheatre cut from stone.
Ryan climbed the steps leading up to the entrance, his legs protesting with every stride. The archway ahead was wide, flanked by carved pillars that mimicked the jagged peaks of mountains. Beyond it, the arena opened into a broad semi-circular space, the floor packed dirt worn smooth by years of use.
Tiered seating rose along the curved walls, empty now but built to hold hundreds. The stone benches were rough, deliberately unpolished, echoing the natural rock of the mountains. Torches lined the upper tiers, unlit in the daylight but ready for evening sessions.
The floor itself was divided into sections. Painted lines marked out smaller sparring circles, each one large enough for two fighters to move freely without interfering with the pairs beside them. There were maybe forty circles in total, spread across the arena floor.
