The air inside the Crowncast central arena vibrated with the screech of high-frequency monomolecular steel slicing through the lingering spatial mist.
Holographic calculation columns framed the edges of the titanium ring, projecting complex mathematical formulas in glowing amber glyphs before the virtual audience.
"Neural simulation cycle four hundred and twelve complete," Corin Dres announced, his mechanical voice steady and devoid of fatigue.
"Prediction model confirms your defeat within twelve exchanges, First Player," the cybernetic champion stated, resetting his dual-blade stance.
"Your computers are very fond of speeches, Corin," Nox replied, circling to the left while keeping his void-diamond katana angled toward the floor.
"Statistical prediction is not a speech, as it is an empirical certainty," Corin retorted, stepping forward with eerie, frictionless precision.
