Blood filled Soren's mouth, metallic and warm. His sword slipped from nerveless fingers, clattering to the sand as his knees finally buckled. The roar of the crowd crashed over him like a physical wave, distorted through the haze of pain and exhaustion.
"Victory, Ser Daven Trescan!" the herald declared, voice booming across the arena.
The noble galleries erupted in thunderous applause. Soren caught fragments of their jubilation through the ringing in his ears.
"Order restored!"
"The proper hierarchy maintained!"
"As it should be!"
But from the barriers where the common folk pressed against weathered wood, a different chant rose, defiant and proud.
"The wolf made him bleed! The wolf made him bleed!"
"Aura! He forced Aura!"
Soren struggled to focus his vision, the world tilting sideways as blood continued to pour from his shoulder. Through the blur, he saw Trescan standing over him, the scarlet light around his blade slowly fading.
