The arena floor was clean.
No structures this time. No ramps or elevated platforms or narrow bridges. Just open stone, wide and flat, illuminated by the full weight of the afternoon sun pouring through the open roof. The space looked simple. It wasn't. Simple spaces had nowhere to hide and nowhere to recover and no terrain to use as a variable. Simple spaces put everything on the fighter.
The crowd understood this.
The noise that filled the arena as the Class 3 bracket opened had a different quality from the noise during the entertainment—less celebratory, more focused. People settled into their seats with intention. Programs were folded away. Conversations cut short. The stands reorganized themselves around the fight that was about to happen, everyone finding their angle, everyone getting comfortable for something they intended to watch carefully.
