The arena fell into complete silence as two figures emerged from opposite tunnels. The crowd held its collective breath, two hundred students leaning forward in anticipation.
Petra Blackthorne stepped into the arena with fluid grace, her long black hair flowing like liquid shadow behind her. Despite her petite frame, there was something predatory in the way she moved, each step calculated and purposeful. Her uniform was immaculate, not a thread out of place, and her pale skin seemed to glow under the arena's magical lighting.
What drew every eye, however, was the weapon at her side.
The katana's scabbard was carved from what looked like bone, though no ordinary creature could have provided material that size. Intricate patterns spiraled along its length, pulsing with a faint inner light that seemed to shift between silver and deep crimson. The weapon itself radiated an otherworldly presence that made the air around it shimmer with barely contained energy.
