"How ironic," Shalar chuckled. With out another word, he walked towards the staging areas.
Two fights had already taken place before it was his turn. In spots, blood splattered the ground, turning the dirt a deep red-brown.
How very encouraging, Shalar thought.
Where his elbows ended, not one but two forearms grew, giving him four clawed hands to bear against his enemies. With talon-like blades for toes and fingers, he was confident that he could deflect Tyger's twin dirks. He smiled grimly.
"Anger or no, Tyger, I will fight and win. Nothing can stop me until I face David Talis. When he dies at my hands, I can rest."
On these words, the stone door of the Arena opened, and he blinked in the bright morning light. "And then it begins," he muttered...
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