Lucen didn't say anything.
He didn't raise his hands, didn't turn to the crowd, didn't even glance toward the ref glyph that had started blinking faint yellow on the far wall. He just stood there, breath steady, shoulders still loose. Watching.
Rikta lay on his side near the arena edge. One arm bent under him, the other outstretched toward his sword like he wanted to reach it but couldn't remember how to move.
He was still breathing.
But something was off.
Lucen felt it before he saw it.
A pulse.
Not mana from the environment. Not feedback from a delayed glyph. Something internal.
Then he heard the sound, wet and fast, like steam shoved through blood.
Rikta twitched.
His back arched once, legs kicking slightly against the stone. The sword didn't move.
Lucen narrowed his eyes. Didn't step forward.
The crowd noise dipped for a second. Just a second.
Then came the scream.
Rikta's, but not like before.
No rage. No frustration.
Just pain.
Sharp. Animal.
