The current situation might have looked bad from the outside—me bruised all over, ribs aching like they'd been hammered flat, blood trickling from a split lip and mixing with the sweat that stung my eye—but it wasn't really a big deal.
I still had my spatial pouch tucked at my hip. If my body tipped too far past the edge, I could just yank out a couple of healing potions and chug them down.
Sure, it would look cowardly or dishonorable to the bloodthirsty crowd packed into the stands, but there were no real stakes here outside of the fact that I really really want that sweet modification that Eli promised.
Basically, now that I think about it, I could dip out anytime I wanted by turning on my cognitive blocking spell. Tuclase might hate me for it but why would I care?
The so-called prize of the Iron Savage Challenge, the title, the eidolons, the prestige, wasn't the end all be all, after all.
Still, for all that, I had taken something genuinely valuable out of this fight.
