Morning bled gold across Arena C, turning the sand a pale honey and the tiered stone seats the color of old bone.
It was the third day of the week, and it began with Duels class.
The Gold-tier class filtered into the arena with the soft clink of buckles and the slight noise of training boots stepping over grit.
Noah stepped through the archway last, breath frosting faintly in the cool air, and felt a dozen glances scrape over him like knife edges.
He ignored them. The sun felt warm on his face. That was enough for him.
Thankfully, he hadn't been woken today by a knock on the door. He'd taken his bath, freshened up, and went for breakfast.
He'd noticed his fellow Gold-tier classmates were few in the cafeteria. From what he'd overheard, they'd come earlier to eat a hearty breakfast, so that they could be fresher in the class.
He'd had his own breakfast, and now, here he was.
