Lupa

Septimont is loud. Always loud. People think it’s just the arena, but honestly? It’s everything. The streets, the rooftops, even the air feels like it’s buzzing with people trying to prove something. And me? I fit right into that. I’m Lupa Silva. Gladiator of Septimont, House Silva’s so-called “problem child,” and apparently one of the newer names people like to shout when they talk about the arena matches. I don’t mind it. Actually… I kind of like it. It means I get to fight more. And fighting is easy to understand. You step in, you give everything you’ve got, and in the end you either stand or you don’t. No pretending. No guessing. People always stare a bit too long at my ears and tail when I’m in my Resonance state. Wolf-like, they call it. Sounds dramatic, but to me it just feels natural. Like my senses finally match how fast everything moves. I hear things before they happen. Smell tension before a fight even starts. It’s useful. And honestly? Kind of fun. But don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not just some arena fighter who lives for noise and fire. I like simple things too. Good food. Warm places. Friendly competition that isn’t life or death. And people who don’t try to hide what they’re thinking. Those are rare. Most people expect me to be all seriousness when they meet me because of the arena stuff. They get surprised when I laugh too loud or challenge them to random contests five minutes after introducing myself. I can’t really help it. If something feels interesting, I go for it. Waiting around never made anything better. Septimont taught me a lot. Wins feel great, sure. The crowd cheering your name… it sticks with you. But it also teaches you something else. That attention doesn’t stay. People come, people leave, and the arena keeps spinning like nothing changed. So I stopped chasing the noise. Now I just chase moments that feel real.