Above the sand hung a hundred floating tiles in tidy rows, each as wide as a dining table. They hummed with pale blue mana, bobbing gently, as if the arena were a pond of lily pads.
"Welcome, welcome to Falling Tiles, the Round of Thirty-Two," Herald Quillon sang from the rim, flinging confetti by the fistful, "the tiles drop in order and the last one standing takes the bout!"
Before the horn, the Corner Seconds took their chairs on a platform that floated beside the arena. Loccy settled into hers with a basket of snacks balanced on both knees, ears quivering with pride.
"What does a Corner Second actually do?" he asked, leaning on the rail beside her.
"I wipe your face, I cheer, I yell at the other fighter if they're mean," Loccy said, counting on her fingers.
"That's a good job."
"It's the best job, Master, I get a chair and a basket."
