The arena buzzed with anticipation. I stood at the edge of our team's section, watching as Ignazio Bellweather settled into his seat in the elevated observation box. His presence alone had transformed the atmosphere from competitive to electric.
"Look at them all," Zane whispered beside me. "Every fighter in the arena keeps glancing up at Elder Bellweather."
He wasn't wrong. Throughout the vast hall, competitors who had been boasting loudly moments before now spoke in hushed tones, stealing furtive glances toward the distinguished elder.
"That's the power of reputation," I replied. "Most of these men will never reach even a fraction of his level."
The tournament official stepped onto the central platform, his voice amplified by a formation inscribed around the edge. "Welcome to the Thirty-Second Annual Inter-Provincial Military Competition!"
Polite applause rippled through the arena.
"Before we begin today's events, I must announce an important addition to our rules."
