The holding room of the combat stadium was entirely built of granite.
The heavy iron door was bolted shut from the outside, leaving Marcus Valen completely isolated in the dim, flickering light of a single mana crystal embedded in the ceiling.
Marcus was sitting on a hard wooden bench, his foot rapidly and nervously tapping against the stone floor. The rhythmic thud, thud, thud echoed loudly in the confined space, but it did nothing to drown out the panicked spiraling of his own thoughts.
What just happened? he thought, his chest tight with a suffocating, icy dread. What the hell was that?
He buried his face in his hands, his mind racing to make sense of the last ten minutes.
Yes, he had bought that artifact from the black market contact in the capital.
He wasn't stupid; he knew it was technically against tournament regulations.
But it was supposed to be a simple, high-grade mana reservoir, just a minor, undetectable boost to ensure he crushed his opponent.
