"What is happening?" Ian's eyes squinted.
In the sky above the Arena, the once radiant tournament platform had become shrouded in crimson mist and the wails of broken space. The rules, the elders, and the so-called "sacred order" of the tournament had all crumbled in a single instant.
No one understood what had just occurred, until the truth, buried beneath millions of years of silence, began to rise like a corpse refusing to rot.
"So it has finally begun…" Suelo, with the gaze of a sleeping dragon, stepped forward. His robes fluttered, though no wind blew. His hands, calm and empty, hid a million years of preparation. At his side, the Grand Devil, the beautiful deviless whose charm could bring emperors to their knees and whose cruelty had sealed the fate of worlds, laughed softly.
"Ian… I didn't tell you but... This tournament was never meant to determine the strongest. It was only meant to gather… sacrifices."
Ian clenched his fist. 'Damn bastard!'
The space trembled.
