The VIP lounge exuded exclusivity, with soft lighting and velvet drapes muffling the sounds of the bar outside. Jake leaned back in his booth, perfectly composed, his sharp suit practically glowing against the dim ambiance. Meanwhile, our friends made their way to his booth to discuss the matter of the bounty.

Back at the arena, 2 of Korzan’s hardworking cronies, Slag and Bork, shuffle through the rows of spectators, their second-row seats just steps away from the chaos of the arena. The faint smell of charred meat wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of clinking glasses and the murmurs of an excited crowd.