13th District

The arena buzzed with anticipation as the host’s voice boomed across the vast expanse. The holographic display overhead glimmered to life, illuminating the eager faces of the crowd and the tense figures of the participants below.

“Welcome to the 100th Annual Trials of the Arena!” the host declared, the cheer in his voice masking the cruel reality of what lay ahead. “This year, we bring you not five, not ten, but twelve districts vying for survival and glory!”

The audience erupted into cheers, their excitement almost drowning out the host’s words. The participants stood in rigid formation, their faces betraying a whirlwind of emotions: terror, defiance, greed, and ambition. The Trials weren’t just a competition—they were a blood sport engineered by the Capital to remind the districts of their place.

“Let us meet our contenders!”

The screen flickered, focusing on the first group.

“From the blazing South, the Crimson District! Known for their unmatched mages and warriors, these participants are the pride of their people.”

The Crimson District stood tall, their expressions a mix of arrogance and determination. They were polished, prepared, and infamous for their unyielding drive to win.

“Next, from the icy North, the Balto District! Cunning, ruthless, and unrelenting, the Baltos are no strangers to doing whatever it takes to claim victory.”

The Baltos smirked and exchanged knowing glances. Their reputation for underhanded tactics was well-earned, and they wore it like a badge of honor.

“From the fertile plains of the East, the Grifeits District! Celebrated for their unity and strategy, they stunned the arena with their victory last year. Will they defend their title?”

The Grifeits stood in disciplined formation, exuding calm confidence. Whispers of their flawless teamwork and tactical brilliance rippled through the crowd.

“From the volcanic West, the Zafort District! Renowned for their warriors forged in fire, this district held the title for years before their recent fall. Can they reclaim their throne?”

The Zaforts stepped forward with steely determination, their nonchalant demeanor masking the fire burning within.

“From the sprawling farmlands of the Southeast, the Benorra District! Returning after decades of silence, they bring with them a legacy of resilience and strength.”

The Benorrans moved with quiet purpose, their presence a riddle even to the other districts.

The host’s voice carried on, introducing the remaining districts:

“From the dense forests of the Sylvan District, masters of stealth and agility!”

“From the technological hub of the Argent District, famed for their ingenious inventors and strategists!”

“From the desert expanse of the Duneward District, relentless survivors forged by the harshest conditions!”

“From the cliffside villages of the Auren District, known for their fearless mountaineers and daredevils!”

“From the storm-battered coasts of the Tempest District, sailors and fighters hardened by the wrath of nature!”

“From the labyrinthine caves of the Obsidian District, shadowy figures who thrive in darkness!”

“And finally, from the industrial heart of the Capital itself, the Iron District, whose participants are crafted in the very shadow of their oppressors!”

The crowd’s cheers reached a deafening crescendo as the host concluded:

“Twelve districts. Twelve chances to prove their worth. Let the 100th Annual Trials begin!”