The waiting room was small, cold, and reeked of sweat and dried blood.
Lucen sat alone on a splintered bench, elbows resting on his knees, coat folded beside him. Somewhere outside, the crowd roared. Another fight had begun, or ended. There was no other person in the waiting room except him.
He closed his eyes for a moment. It was quiet here. Just a single mana lamp on the wall, the distant chants of gamblers, and his own breathing.
He flexed his fingers slowly. He started thinking about which character he could remember who was good at unarmed combat. It must be a character that he knew well enough that he would be able to perform his techniques.
'Still, I need to be careful, the last time I was too into it that I was almost consumed by the character's personality.'
