This arena was a combat research facility. It was not merely designed to research combat. It used combat to research everything else that its mistress considered interesting.

ZRK offered a single promise with her dojo - "[i]we can learn to defeat more with less[/i]". Electromancer considered it to be a logical statement, an optimization creed. Toros saw it for what it is - the best sales pitch since the Ironstrider fiasco, it just needed some extra weight. 

There have been cases of dishonourable honour duels, rigged betting, unauthorized augmentation, blatant identity theft, weird cadaver desecration and at least a dozen disappearances around those parts. Those operational costs did not matter. People wanted to be here, to fight here, to prove themselves here, to buy local recordings, to access datafiles of developed techniques, to bet, to win, to have a talk in private and to be seen having those talks in private. ZRK-333 may have created a combat research facility. Toros made it into a landmark, something no other magos had afforded to ignore completely. 

Tiefebronn used lodges for negotiations, leveraging Toros hands-off approach to play his own game behind layers of privacy fields. Pinel had a steady income stream through providing combat servitors - and a steadier one through making servitors from dropouts, which she, for whatever reason, thought to be a secret to anyone. At least a couple of shadier championship matches had an unmistakable trace of Stoll toys being deployed. Passivity-SEA ensured Tech-Guard outreach in exchange for premium access to raw data - her holy vow not to compete in algorithm development unbroken, Toros was moderately sure that both Iconia's irritating awareness of what happens within those walls and some of the more successful semi-official betting outfits carried the mark of the datamancer's personal touch. Even the firepower recluse graced them - while PWD research has been, of course, too important to interrupt for stupid games, multiple arms manufacturers operating under his licensing were slowly pulled into the arena orbit, their coats-of-arms on champion cloaks, their prototypes blasting the way to the podium.

ZRK hated it all at first. Too many data distractions, she said. Too much stuff around to do more with less, she thought. Too different from her design to be completely her project, she claimed. Warp having no fury as an electromancer scorned, they had a cozy little war about it - fighting with words in the meetings, with proxies in the dark alleyways, with loyalists in the limited spire engagements, and, finally, with their bodies in one of the more sacred, secret arenas of the building.

Both of them won, and understanding has been reached. An understanding deeper than any of them wanted.

ZRK-333 had lived a full month in the world where Archmagos Toros was dead, her promise "Worst case projection - I'll be back the next morning" cruelly broken. Secunda was not sure how Spark would react to a formally unrecognized clone, and, once again, reminded herself to use a proper addressing style for the esteemed Magos. The only thing Secunda knew - or, at least, really wanted - to be true would be the fact that ZRK-333 would love to go for some extremely flashy vendetta against whoever harmed Toros. Toros would do the same for her, that's for sure.

A flash of the warning rune in the bottom of the retinal display snapped Secunda back into reality. Someone's adrenaline was climbing a bit too steep for her comfort.

"Trigger discipline, Celestian. If you want to fight those beasts, don't do it for free. Besides, you've already killed some of them once - took a lot of skitarii logistics to bring us samples fresh enough to kill those again.", protomaga chuckled into the comms. "The mistress of this facility learns things through the way they move. Don't give yourself away just yet. You'll get your chance soon enough anyway."

Spark never really answered any of her two questions directly, she just authorized a visit and assigned a time slot. Granted, she would never use mere words to communicate the most important things. This arena was a combat research facility. It was not merely designed to research combat. It used combat to research everything else that its mistress considered interesting. 

Ghost of Archmagos Past silenced the rune warning, adrenaline always being her own, and blinked away the curt missive.

"In position. Your move."