A few minutes later, the arena thrummed with energy as the announcer's voice boomed again. "Black Hair returns! Will he continue his winning streak, or will tonight's challenger bring him down?"
Fedlimid stepped into the ring with his usual composed stride, his dark attire and the shadow of his hood casting an aura of quiet menace. His black hair swayed slightly as he moved, drawing a murmur of recognition from the crowd.
Arthur leaned back in his seat, placing another bet without hesitation. "Black Hair."
The bookmaker, standing nearby, quirked an eyebrow. "Still going all in? Bah! I'm not surprised anymore but your gains are getting lower by the hour. The more cheering the less pearls. What if he's just lucky?"
Arthur's smirk was subtle but confident. "Luck doesn't do what he does."
In the center of the ring, Fedlimid faced his next opponent, a towering man wielding a double-headed axe that seemed forged for destruction.
