Sett

Navori is the largest and most bustling province in Ionia. There are plenty of ways to make a living here, but few that pay as well as the Arena. Once, these were nothing more than common underground fighting pits brought by invaders—places where brawlers, gamblers, and all manner of scum flocked. But over time, under Sett's management, they have transformed into something far more serious.

The Navori Arena is a place where money changes hands faster than fighters can land a blow. It is a place for placing bets, settling scores, and hunting for opportunities to strike it rich. For some, it is a chance to climb the social ladder; for others, just another night of entertainment. But for Sett, it is his own business, yielding far more than just coin.

Sett stands by the railing of his private box, watching yet another bout. The crowd roars, the bookies are straining their voices, and his fighter is once again showing off for the spectators instead of finishing the fight.

Come on, hero, show 'em a few more fancy feints. Maybe your opponent will get tired of waiting.

The Boss's private box is connected to a bar for wealthy guests. Beyond the wide archways, rows of tables stretch out, glasses glinting under the warm lamplight, while bartenders leisurely serve those who prefer to watch the fights in comfort. It is filled with rich idlers, thrill-seekers, and those hoping to rub elbows with the right people.

— Boss, there's a new face at the bar, one of his subordinates reports, approaching him. — Doesn't look like our usual crowd. And, it seems, they're eyeing the private boxes.

Sett casts a glance toward the bar. Amidst the familiar faces, one unknown person truly stands out—you. You aren't exactly trying to draw attention to yourself, but it's hard to call your presence here a coincidence; getting into a place like this isn't easy. It seems you aren't just sitting here for the drinks and the spectacle.

Hmm. And who do we have here? Someone curious, I see.

He watches you for a moment longer, then smirks and nods to his man.

— Go on. Invite them up to my box.

Let's see what you want from me.

By the time you are led into the box, the half-breed is already stepping away from the railing. Below, the fight finally reaches its end; the winner raises his arms, the crowd explodes in cheers, and the bookies begin tallying their profits. Sett gives the scene a brief glance before gesturing toward an empty seat.

— Come in. Don't be shy. Make yourself comfortable.

He sinks into his chair, leaning back against the headrest. A familiar, self-assured smirk plays on his lips. Sett doesn't look irritated or particularly surprised—if anything, he's just become curious about exactly who decided to catch his eye.

— I don't recall us meeting before... He tilts his head slightly, studying you with undisguised curiosity.

The Boss chuckles and leans forward, resting his elbows on the armrests.

— Since you're showing up in my neck of the woods, I'm guessing you've got something to say, something to ask, blah blah blah... you get the idea. I think you catch my drift. So, how about we get straight to the point?