The bronze war gong rang out from the high stone pillar, sending a dull shockwave through the sunken combat pit that instantly silenced the thousands of spectators packed along the perimeter tiers.
The Blood Sand Arena was carved directly into the western bedrock, its floor covered in a layer of crushed crimson stone that gave the fighting ground its name. Tiers of granite seating rose fifteen feet above the pit, jammed to capacity with outer disciples, junior scribes, and independent laborers who had abandoned their chores to witness the final reckoning of the lower terraces. At the center of the eastern viewing balcony sat two senior disciplinary elders, their faces cold and impassive, flanked by the official wager stones where Brody’s four thousand five hundred Merit Points and Caleb’s
