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She merely raised her head and squinted at the sunlight spilling through the gaps in the arena's dome.
Then she tightened her grip on the sword's hilt.
Someone in the stands drew a breath.
"Is that... Ulti?"
"I heard she's only ten?"
"Are they insane, letting a child that young-"
The murmurs were drowned out by another, louder rumble.
The iron gate opposite her opened too.
A burly man emerged, his upper body **, crisscrossed with scars.
He rolled his neck, his joints cracking sharply.
He glanced at the girl opposite him and sneered.
The referee stood on a raised platform and lifted his hand.
The entire arena abruptly fell silent.
There was only the wind moaning through the arcades and the faint crunch of sand beneath shoes.
Rossi looked at the ** on the sand.
He thought that some roads, in the end, had to be walked alone.
Some power, in the end, had to be held in one's own hands.
The referee's hand swept down.
"Begin!"
The front rows of Dressrosa's Corrida Colosseum were packed with children, huddled close together, their burning gazes sweeping over the sand below.
Most of these children came from the capital's streets and alleys, and they harbored a vague hostility toward their peers who received structured training at the Orphanage-as though something that should have belonged to them had quietly been stolen.
The chance to become a member of the Donquixote Family.
Nearly all the Family's officers were present today, and two figures who had not appeared in public for a long time were on the main platform.
That fact alone was enough to set the whole city buzzing.
People flocked here not just to watch the fighting. Even a distant glimpse of those important figures was worth spreading the word.
"A