The iron gates at the mouth of the subterranean staging bays ground open, releasing a draft of cold, damp air that smelled of wet limestone and rusted chainmail.
Beneath the towering foundation of the Grand Martial Coliseum, sixty four newly elevated Core Disciples stood in a wide corridor illuminated by smoky tallow torches.
Senior proctors in dark bronze breastplates patrolled the flagstone hallway, escorting fighters toward the inspection tables where official scales and runic resonance plates measured every weapon, talisman, and spiritual signature.
The atmosphere in the holding tunnel was taut with nervous silence, broken only by the scrape of boots and the metallic clatter of armor.
Disciples from the outer peak academies kept their distance from the inner ring nobles, casting si
