Setsun has yet to learn to the laws of the pit, and so he enters it much as any other competitor would. He's a very small guy, roughly 17 years of age, and is clad in rough and worn leathers. His hair, soft and blond, is tied behind him and his pale blue eyes are cast at the ground. This was a familiar feeling. He'd been a gladiator for at least a year now. He was terrible at it, and that's what had gotten him sold. Still, he wasn't dead yet. Yet. He sized up the beastman and nods, drawing a small one-handed sword from his side. He bows, a sign of respect to his opponent.