The chamber's silence felt heavier than the fight itself.
Rondan stood still, his blade trembling in his hand. The black door had vanished, leaving only bare stone behind. But the mark on his arm pulsed like a living ember.
Leina stepped forward, her cloak brushing against the dust. "You weren't supposed to survive that," she murmured. "The Second Gate has claimed every fighter before you."
Rondan's voice was low. "Then why am I still breathing?"
Her gaze lingered on the mark. "Because the mark chose you… and that's dangerous."
Before he could speak, a sudden tremor shook the ground. The walls around them shivered, and a deep rumble echoed through the tunnels. Faint dust rained from the ceiling.
Leina's face paled. "They've felt it. The ones outside."
Rondan frowned. "Outside? You mean beyond the arena?"
She hesitated, then gestured for him to follow. They slipped through a narrow side tunnel, the light from the arena fading behind them. The air grew colder, tinged with the faint scent of metal and ash.
At the end of the passage, Leina pushed open a rusted grate, revealing an opening high above a vast underground canyon.
Rondan's breath caught.
Below, in the depths, sprawled a hidden city—built into the very rock, its streets lit by dim red lanterns. Towering statues of armored figures lined the canyon walls, each holding a sword pointed downward. But what drew his eyes were the black obelisks scattered among the city's plazas. They pulsed faintly, in perfect rhythm with the mark on his arm.
Leina spoke softly, as if afraid the city might hear. "This is what the tournament feeds. Every battle, every death, fuels those obelisks. They're not monuments—they're keys. The Third Gate is down there, in the heart of that city."
Rondan tore his gaze away from the sight. "And what's behind the Third Gate?"
Her silver eyes locked onto his. "Not what. Who."
Before he could press her, a deep, resonant horn echoed from the city below. The sound rolled up the canyon walls like a tide, rattling the stone under their feet.
Leina grabbed his arm. "They know you're coming. And if you walk through that gate, you won't be fighting for victory anymore—you'll be fighting for the world above."
The mark on his arm burned again, harder this time, as if answering the call from below.