"Urgh... just... let me through, you silly bastard," he said, eyes closed as he stood before the participant's entrance. Just because he was fine with fucking up everyone else's eyesight didn't mean he wanted to make his headache worse by allowing the same sunlight that lit him up to poke his sensitive eyes. With the arena the way it was now, it truly towered over them, the support structures holding up the upper levels disguised behind large, thin plywood. This made the interior of the arena, the space underneath the stands, a makeshift room for the participants to ready themselves before going out to their respective fights. When he entered, he was met with blessed darkness and the sounds of quietly chatting fellow tournament contestants, which fell to a low murmur when he entered. He was also greeted with the smell of hundreds upon hundreds of people, but if you attended a festival, you got used to such things.