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CHAOS
CHARLES FOX. Old Rag called me on my way to say the fight had been canceled—not because of any ordinary reason, but because my rival had been found dead in his locker room this morning. It was strange; only a few had access to that room, and leaving unnoticed was nearly impossible, yet somehow his killer managed it. Rumor had it that he might have been involved with some illegal cult and had stolen their money, but even that was hard to believe. The ring was sacred—a place where supernatural beings from different worlds gathered, forged by years of blood and sweat. Everyone respected the arena. Or so we thought until the killings started. This was the third fighter found dead in that room. Old Rag was convinced someone was trying to start a war, which would be a big one—a war I couldn’t
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