Gon stepped into the arena, the sun bearing down on him like a relentless hammer, its heat shimmering off the cracked stone beneath his boots.
The roar of the crowd filled the air, a cacophony of cheers and jeers that seemed to press against him from all sides.
Dust swirled in lazy eddies around his feet, kicked up by the frenetic movements of the previous fighters, but he barely noticed.
His mind was elsewhere, still sluggish, still tangled in the memory of the night before, a memory that clung to him like a stubborn fog, refusing to dissipate.
It felt surreal, standing here now. Less than twelve hours ago, Dina had been in his arms, her breath warm and uneven against his lips, her body pressed against his in a way that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with something far more dangerous.
