The two stepped through the iron gate into the arena's inner ring, greeted immediately by a wave of murmurs and the faint clatter of footsteps on stone.
The arena, vast and circular, stretched high above them with tiered seating packed with young competitors.
A youth in red robes waited near the entrance.
"Sirs," the red-robed youth gestured. "Please find your seat and wait. You'll be called when it's your turn."
Michael gave a short nod and walked past him without a word.
Renn, however, paused to ask, "Do you know what the trial will be?"
Michael internally sighed. He didn't even need to look at the red-robed boy's face to know the answer.
Predictably, the youth replied, "You'll find out when it starts."
Michael rolled his eyes—quietly, of course.
He didn't bother waiting for Renn and simply moved on toward the seating area, weaving past others as he picked an isolated corner with a good view of the arena floor.
