John's gaze drifted up from the insect as its tiny companion signaled their defeat. The girl he'd knocked out of the ring had an initiate beside her, calling for others to help him, The referee was no where to be found at all, the crowd screamed for blood, and the insect had passed out. The scene was one of chaos, and as John began to look for Logan, the sister presiding over the match stepped across the ropes, addressing the crowd with a much larger and more commanding voice than she had a right to.

"Match is OVER!"

The chaos quieted, with shouts and jeers turned to murmurs and grumbles about lost bets. The woman turned to John, speaking.

"I apologize for the disruption, and while your methods may deter in the future, I do not approve of them."

John bowed as two initiates grabbed the slick carapace of his insect opponent, his rodent urging caution as they lifted him to take to the healing chambers. He turned back to the sister and spoke over the vague roar from another ring. Another semifinalist had finally lost.

"I understand, but the match did not exactly conform to citadel rules."

She sighed as the rest of the spectators dispersed, leaving Logan waiting at the ropes, listening on. She spoke quietly, but still with authority.

"I have dealt with the referee in question, and I will deal with the interrupting girl. There are certain grudges against the insect, though I suspect more stem from what he has done, rather than what he is."

John grunted. Just like me, he thought. She continued

"Pay it no more mind, Cromwell. Good luck in your next match."

He could already hear Logan beckoning him to the healer's tent. The pain that he had been ignoring until now resurfaced with a vengeance, and he bent over to favor his injured rib.

Hopefully there wasn't a line at the tent.