Riven sat alone in the break room, the muffled roar of the crowd echoing through the walls.
He could hear the judge's voice starting the next match. Cheers erupted again, but his focus was elsewhere.
Maybe I can trade Gopts…
The ones I don't need — I could swap them for money or better ones.
That could actually work… but where would I even find a place like that?
His thoughts kept spiraling, ideas stacking on top of each other.
He didn't notice how long he was sitting there until another wave of cheering snapped him back.
He stood up, curiosity pulling him toward the arena window.
Down below, Nox stood tall, and in front of him, a figure lay motionless on the ground.
Blood stained Nox's hands.
The judge raised his hand.
Judge: "WINNER IS NOX!"
The crowd exploded into cheers once more.
Moments later, Nox stepped back into the break room, calm and quiet as ever.
Nox: "I won the match."
Riven: "Who were you fighting?"
Nox: "Some swordsman named Illion."
Riven: "Alright."
Riven leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
Sleep pulled him under — fast and heavy — but even in sleep, the gears in his head kept turning.