Vargas slammed his fists onto the wooden railing of the viewing balcony. The syndicate boss clamped his jaw shut, refusing to hand over a single silver coin to an academy student.
Drustan vaulted over the edge of the booth and plummeted into the dirt pit. Landing in a crouch, the scarred fighter pulled a pair of chained sickles from his waist.
"I will carve that name into your skull," Drustan sneered, spinning the chains.
The sickles blurred through the underground arena. The local blacksmiths had forged those specific weapons to ensnare broader blades. Drustan lashed the chains forward, aiming to wrap the iron links directly around Eden's Penance.
Solomon tightened his grip on the sword. He completely restricted his newly awakened internal energy, refusing to utilize his aura for this clash. It was simply too powerful to use in an underground facility, where it could come crashing down.
