[Location: The Arena Floor]
The silence following Elena's victory hung heavy in the air. The crowd was unsettled. First the Needle, then the Saint. They were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"AND NOW..." The Announcer cleared his throat, his enthusiasm dampened.
"FOR THE FINAL MATCH OF THE FIRST ROUND."
"FROM CLASS B... THE GALE BLADE! JETT!"
WHOOSH.
A blur of green motion shot out of the East Gate.
Jett flowed. He was lean, wiry, and aerodynamic. He wore a suit of light leather armor enchanted with [Weight Reduction] runes.
In his hands, he held twin scimitars that curved like hawk talons.
Summersaulting into the center of the arena, wind mana swirling around his ankles. He posed, blades crossed, grinning at the camera.
"Make some noise!" Jett shouted.
The crowd erupted. This was what they wanted. Speed. Flash. Style.
"AND FROM CLASS F... THE IRON TOWER... ALARIC!"
The West Gate opened.
Nothing happened for three seconds.
Then... a sound.
SCREEECH.
