The academy emergency triage pavilion was located beneath the eastern grandstand of the Colosseum. A cavernous, sterile hall lit by buzzing white tubes that hummed with a cold, flickering white light. The air smelled of burnt fur, heavy-duty antiseptics, and the sharp copper tang of aether-heavy bleeding. Dozens of injured beasts lay on rubber-padded check slabs, attended by overworked commoner beast-doctor cadets and indifferent corporate inspectors wearing the clean white smocks of ApexBio.
Arthur walked down the central aisle, his heavy combat boots clicking against the polished linoleum. Beside him, Toby carried their mobile test tracking data kit, his eyes scanning the monitors above each check bay. Everywhere they looked, the signs of corporate exploitation were laid bare. Regional academy beasts with shattered claws, torn wing joint cords, and severe mana-burns. Their commoner tamers wept over medical bills they could never hope to pay. ApexBio representatives circulated with digital clipboards, offering hungry bio-mortgages and forced payout buyouts for crippled beasts.
“Over here, Arthur!” a trembling voice called out from Bay 7.
It was Cadet Ronald, the young team captain from Oakhaven Academy whom Arthur had spoken to in the staging tunnel before Round One. Ronald stood beside a heavy stainless-steel running table, his eyes red-rimmed and his cadet uniform stained with dark, greasy fluid.
