The arena atmosphere slowly settled after the Forsaken Peak victory, like a storm that didn't know if it should keep raging or retreat. The referee barely finished clearing the field before the announcer's voice rose again.
"Next match — Vermillion Academy!"
Wearing crimson uniforms with gold accents, he stepped forward looking elegant, confident, bored even. Their representative barely raised his hand before a torrent of concentrated flame shaped into a spiral and hewed through the opposing fighter's defenses.
It was efficient and brutal.
The opponent tried to stand and fight, but it was futile.
Less than thirty seconds, and he was on the ground, charred tiles steaming under his body.
The arena reacted with a roar.
Vermillion always delivered spectacle.
Aramith didn't react.
He had seen enough of Vermillion's style not to care.
Vermillion could bathe themselves in glory all they wanted. It no longer concerned him.
