What had been a scattered queue of fighters eyeing random matchups suddenly funneled into a single, hungry line aimed straight at me.
Demons of every shade—horned, scaled, furred—shoved and snarled for position, eyes locked on the petite Plant Demon in black dress and working boots who had just declared herself the next Iron Savage Challenger.
Heh, the air thickened with the sharp, metallic reek of anticipation-sweat mixed with the lingering tang of old blood baked into the regenerating stone floor, even without their color being as prominent as the white of the surface.
The first to step forward was a one-eyed giant who made the arena edge look like a child's sandbox.
Greasy black hair hung in thick, rope-like mats to his shoulders, slick with arena grime.
