The reinforced portcullis slammed down behind the five champions with a deafening metallic clang as the colossal stadium floodlights flared to life.
Above the artificial turf, twenty floating spectator orbs buzzed in high orbits, broadcasting every angle of the arena to off-world gambling networks.
In the exact center of the fifty-yard line stood a black marble obelisk, topped by a glowing artifact pulsing with ancient imperial runes.
"The Champion's Seal is right there on the obelisk crest," the frost specialist announced, raising her staff to survey the perimeter.
"The anti-flight suppression field is active, locking all spatial movement to ground level."
"Assume standard triangular defense around our shield," the First Player ordered, stepping forward with his acid spear poised.
"Do not break formation until the first wave is shattered."
