Dud tried his best not to show any reaction. He couldn't afford to make it obvious to the Black Hounds that he recognized the kid, not yet, not until he knew exactly what they were planning to do with him.
Descending toward the fighting ring, Dud casually took a seat near the front. It was the same area reserved for certain guests who preferred to witness the bloodshed up close, those who wanted to see every bruise, every strike in vivid detail, as well as fighters waiting for their turn in the next match.
There was a separate locker area, of course, a space for warming up and training, but that was for the types who took these underground fights a little too seriously. Dud wasn't concerned about his own match in the slightest. Instead, his thoughts were tangled in the information he had just stumbled upon.
