The waiting room dimmed as the projection sharpened, the countdown ticking down to zero.

  The speaker disk activated, and the roar of the crowd hit my ears. Hundreds of thousands of voices braided together into a single, rolling wave of noise that made my chest vibrate.

  Balt snorted. “Sounds like they’re about to tear the place apart.”

  Jase leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on the screen. Silently staring.

  Chu was just breathing steady, sipping some tea he had taken from his Anchor.”

  The projection flared, the arena snapping into crisp focus. Then the image shifted to a raised dais. Guildmaster Aaron sat rigid and unreadable, wearing a headset.

  Beside him sat a sharply dressed, middle-aged man I had never seen before, but he was wearing a headset as well.

  I pointed at the guy. “Chu, who is that?”

  His name is Altus. He announces and commentates over the Anchor Tournament and other high-end competitions in the empire. He’s quite good in my opinion.”

  When he spoke, the magic?amplified voice rolled across the arena like thunder, carrying his words to every corner of the stands.

  “Citizens of the Empire! Welcome to the SEMIFINALS!”

  The roar somehow got louder. “Let’s get the semifinals started off with a bang!”

  As Altus said the word “bang.” Fireworks shot out and exploded over the arena. Altus moved his hands, and the leftover smoke flew in the air and formed Shane’s name in smoke.

  The man pointed toward a gate. “Introducing, representing the city of Kaelith! The reigning champion! You know him, you love him. The one who has never been defeated in this arena!”

  SHANE! The Crimson Gladiator!

  Slowly, a single gate began to open. When it was finally all the way open.

  Shane stepped confidently into the light.

  The crowd exploded, and I watched Shane wave up to Altus, and to the crowd.

  “Isn't he just the best Guildmaster Aaron?” asked Altus.

  “Oh yeah, he’s just great.” Replied the Guildmaster in a monotone voice.

  Altus didn’t seem to notice as he threw rose petals out of a basket that was at his side down into the arena. I was smiling as I caught Aaron rolling his eyes.

  But the crowd seemed to be on the same wavelength as Altus as many of them began to throw flowers that looked like roses onto the stone arena floor. People were on their feet, screaming his name, chanting it in a rhythm that felt practiced and reverent.

  “SHA-NE! SHA-NE! SHA-NE!”

  I leaned back slightly, arms crossed as I studied him.

  He was all smiles, like he was taking a Sunday stroll through the park. Not a hint of nerves at all.

  He just walked. Like a man who knew the arena belonged to him.

  Shane wore no helm, his dark hair pulled back, his face calm and unreadable. His armor was practical, layered leather dyed crimson, reinforced with dull steel plates, that displayed two silver lions fighting one another on his chest.

  The announcer let the cheers crest before raising a hand.

  “And now! His opponents!”

  The opposite gates slammed open.

  Four figures entered.

  And the crowd turned on them instantly.

  Boos rained down, sharp and vicious. Jeers cut through the air. Where Shane had been showered with flowers, the others were pelted with scraps of paper, rotten fruit, and curses.

  Balt grimaced. “That’s rough. I sure hope I receive a better welcome than what they just got.”

  “They knew what they were walking into,” Jase said flatly.

  I took them in one by one.

  The first was a hulking man clad head to toe in heavy, blackened plate armor, a tower shield strapped to one arm and a spiked mace resting on his shoulder. Thick neck, bull-like stance. A wall.

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  The second wore flowing crimson robes reinforced with hidden sigils, a staff of twisted bone gripped in pale fingers. His eyes glowed faintly blue, a caster, probably.

  The third was lean, wrapped in segmented green armor that looked more like insect chitin than steel. Twin daggers rested in his hands, and even standing still, he seemed… blurred. Like his outline, couldn’t quite settle.

  He looked fast to me.

  The fourth and last was a female warrior. She wore light silver armor etched with delicate runes, a spear held loosely in one hand, a buckler strapped to the other. Her posture was calm, alert. Eyes sharp. Calculating.

  “Interesting mix,” I muttered. “Wonder what Shane’s Gladiator class actually does.”

  Balt snorted. “Judging by the crowd? Something terrifying.”

  The announcer’s voice shifted, becoming formal.

  “Guildmaster Aaron and I, your humble servant Altus, will be the commentators for the remainder of the tournament. On behalf of myself and the Guildmaster, let me say, thank you for having us!” The man gave a flourish and bowed.

  I had to give it to the guy; he was a showman.

  “Now, Guildmaster if you would be so kind as to kick us off!”

  Aaron stood up from his chair, the crowd quieting in anticipation.

  “Semifinal Match One,” he declared. “BEGIN.”

  The arena flared.

  The four challengers vanished.

  Not teleported out but teleported around Shane.

  They reappeared in a loose circle around Shane, each at a different angle, weapons already moving. “Nice opening from the group, teleporting right in Shane’s face trying to catch him with his guard down.” Commented Altus.

  The insect-armored rogue moved first.

  He zipped.

  That was the only word for it.

  One instant, he was in front of Shane about 10 meters away. Next, he was a streak of green light flashing past Shane’s flank, daggers carving through the air where Shane’s neck had been a heartbeat before.

  Shane dodged the strike easily.

  A shimmer of light formed in his hand.

  A gladius.

  Short, broad-bladed, brutal. Its edge gleamed with restrained power.

  The rogue zipped again, circling, never stopping, never committing.

  “I can’t have you trying to zip around like that,” Shane said calmly, voice carrying even over the crowd. “I hate that type of fight. Why don’t you all just come at me, and we have a proper scrap.”

  Something shifted.

  White aura poured out of Shane. Not flaring. Not exploding. Pouring.

  Like a dam breaking in silence. The air thickened. Pressure slammed outward.

  Shane drove his sword into the stone. “GLADIATOR’S DOMAIN!”

  The arena screamed.

  Altus’ voice boomed out of the speakers. “There it is, his signature, Talent. Will the other combatants be able to resist the pull of the battle rage?! What do you think, Guildmaster?”

  Aaron’s voice came over monotone. “Probably not.”

  Altus coughed into his hands, then said with a hint of sarcasm. “I can see you are going to be very helpful with your observations.”

  A single word from Aaron came across the feed. “Yup.”

  The combatants had all frozen while crimson veins pulsed through the floor, spreading outward in a wide circle. The stone darkened, turning blood-red, ancient runes appearing and igniting with savage light.

  The crowd went wild.

  Three of the four challengers stiffened. Then they snapped.

  Rage twisted their faces. Eyes went bloodshot. Veins bulged. A guttural roar tore from the armored brute as he charged, shield raised, mace swinging wildly.

  The robed caster shrieked and unleashed a torrent of uncontrolled magic, bolts and waves blasting forward without aim or defense.

  The speedster screamed a sound of pure fury and abandoned all finesse, lunging straight for Shane’s throat, daggers out.

  Only the woman with the spear held her ground.

  Her eyes widened, unsure of what was going on around her.

  Shane yanked his sword free.

  And moved.

  He stepped inside the brute’s charge, blade flashing up and across. The mace was cut in two and dropped. Shane hit the man’s head with the pommel of his gladius, knocking him unconscious instantly.

  He pivoted, catching the rogue mid-lunge with a kick, knocking the guy across the arena with so much power that he skipped along the ground before crashing into a wall, unconscious.

  The caster barely had time to scream before Shane met his charge and punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of him.

  The man bent over, holding his stomach, losing his lunch on the arena floor. Shane finished the guy with a downward strike on the back of the head. The guy was out before his body hit the ground.

  Three heartbeats.

  Three combatants down.

  Silence.

  The sword reappeared in Shane’s hand.

  He turned to the last remaining combatant.

  “Huh,” he said, studying her. “You must have exceptionally high intellect and spirit to resist Gladiator’s Rage.”

  The woman swallowed, then lifted her spear.

  “I won’t surrender,” she said.

  “Good,” Shane replied. “Show me what you've got.”

  They clashed.

  Steel rang as the woman’s spear thrust and slashed. Shane pressed forward, probing her guard, while she met each advance with disciplined precision. Her angles were tight, her footwork crisp, using every inch of reach to keep him at bay.

  I was genuinely impressed with her. She would have been a tough opponent.

  Spectral spears shimmered into existence behind her and shot toward him in rapid succession. Shane batted them aside with casual ease, even flashing a smile as he played to the crowd.

  When the barrage finally ceased and her breath came hard and uneven, Shane moved. In a blink, he darted in and with a simple chop to the side of her neck.

  She crumpled.

  Shane caught her before she hit the ground and laid her down gently. Then he turned and waved to the crowd. The arena erupted.

  Altus let out a long, impressed breath. “Ladies and gentlemen… that is why Shane remains undefeated. Precision. Power. Absolute dominance. A masterclass from the Crimson Gladiator. Simply impressive!”

  There was a brief pause before Aaron’s voice cut in, flat as stone. “He’s a reigning champion who’s nearly fifty levels higher than his opponents, of course he dominated. Were you expecting something different to happen?”

  Altus coughed lightly into his hand. “W-well! Fair point, Guildmaster.” He snapped back into his announcer’s rhythm. “Still, dominance is dominance, and that concludes our first semifinal match!”

  The screen shifted as his voice swelled. “Don’t go anywhere, folks, our next match begins in fifteen minutes, and if this bout was any indication, we’re in for one hell of a show!”

  Balt exhaled slowly. “Well. That was terrifying. A talent that makes you charge blindly at an opponent?”

  I agreed with Balt, that was terrifying. It reminded me of the warrior’s taunt skill from World of WarCraft.

  I leaned back, mind racing. Shane was the real deal, and even with all my new power, I was not sure how I would beat him. The crazy thing was that I had not even really seen him try yet. The screen went blank, and fifteen minutes appeared on it.

  My turn was next.