The bronze gong struck three times in rapid succession, but instead of calling the next pair of matched competitors, the officiator raised a yellow silk banner to freeze the arena floor.
Elder Keith stood upon the raised judge’s dais, his dark blue robes fluttering in the cold morning draft as he unrolled an administrative mandate bound in black cord. Across the sunken pit, thousands of outer disciples leaned over the stone balustrades, their excited whispers quickly curdling into an uneasy rumble of confusion. Caleb Conway remained stationed in the center of the crimson sand, his gray travel coat unbuttoned, his boots planted firmly upon the crushed stone.
"By discretionary decree of the disciplinary tribunal," Keith announced, his voice amplified by a brass sound array to carry across
