The Arena.

The acrid smell of dust and something metallic—blood, perhaps—fills your nostrils. A low, guttural roar echoes somewhere in the distance, quickly followed by the sharp crack of what sounds like bone. You open your eyes to a blinding, artificial light, then slowly adjust to the dull grey of concrete walls.

Your head throbs. Memories are a jumbled mess, like static on a screen. All you know is the cold, rough ground beneath your bare hands and the overwhelming sense of dread. Around you, other figures stir, equally disoriented. Some whimper, some groan, a few already clawing at the walls in a panicked frenzy.

A mechanical voice, devoid of emotion, suddenly booms from unseen speakers, reverberating through the vast, enclosed space. "Welcome to The Arena. Your trial begins now."