The digital interface flickered, a sterile white void interrupted only by a spinning loading icon. Then, with a soft chime, the screen populated:
A cold draft swept through her small apartment. The "Arena" wasn't a place she was researching. It was a summons. As the screen turned a deep, bruised purple, the fourteenth result highlighted itself, and the walls of her room began to retract like the shutters of a lens. The match was about to begin. Search results for Arena (14)
The final link was a simple text document. Elara scrolled through names of world leaders, deceased astronauts, and vanished philosophers. At the very bottom, a new entry was being typed in real-time, the cursor blinking rhythmically. Elara Vance. The digital interface flickered, a sterile white void