The wind howling through the suspended colosseum carried the sharp, metal tang of spark-charged stone and bitter mountain snow.
Lin Tao came to a halt twenty paces from the center of the ring, his boots resting squarely on the dividing seam of the diamond-faced pavers.
Across the combat floor, Bao Shan planted his massive boots with a force that sent cracks spider-webbing across the Precursor stonework. He unhooked the two thirty-pound star-iron war hammers from his back. It spun them with terrifying ease before slamming the heavy heads together with an ear-splitting clang that sent a shower of bright yellow sparks over the front rows of spectators.
“Hear me, boy!” Bao Shan roared, his voice amplified by his earth-attuned core until it rattled the teeth of everyone in the lower galleries. “I’ll give you one breath to kneel and beg for mercy! Beg, and I’ll only shatter your arms and legs! Refuse, and my hammers will leave nothing behind for your elders to bury!”
The grandstands roared in test, baying for blood like wolves in an iron pit. Spectators banged bronze cups against the stone railings, urging the mountain giant to crush the impudent mortal into paste.
Lin Tao didn’t reach for a weapon.
