The hundred newcomers had fared worse. Perhaps thirty remained, their platforms painted red with the blood of those who'd died in their first taste of Jeren's tournament.
The arena fell into an exhausted silence broken only by heavy breathing, groans of pain, and the occasional sob from someone realizing they'd actually survived.
Then Jeren's voice rang out, cheerful and energetic as ever:
"Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!"
He appeared on his elevated platform, applauding with genuine enthusiasm. "What battles! What determination! What spectacular displays of skill and will! The gods are absolutely delighted!"
He looked down at the survivors—the broken, bleeding, exhausted fighters who'd given everything just to live—and his smile was visible even behind his mask.
