Laughter Beneath the Arena Sky
"Pfft…"
The sound cut through the arena like something fragile finally breaking.
When the referee's voice rolled over the field, Shera rocked sideways - then coughed up thick red fluid. A pause followed, heavy with dust and silence.
Time hung, just then. Stillness took hold.
"Master!"
Breath quickened among the followers as they lunged ahead, fabric whipping in sudden motion. He was slipping, knees buckling, yet bodies reached - grabbing, bracing - just in time. Fingers shook, unable to stay still. A face drained of color nearby. Someone tripped mid-step, almost letting go, fear tightening every move.
A shiver ran down Shera's spine, his skin turning cold and gray. From his temples, thick veins pushed outward, straining beneath the surface. His teeth locked together, pressure building until something felt ready to snap. Shame hung heavy in the air, pressing closer than breath itself.
And then—
It spread.
