BADOOM!

Cutting him off, a blinding flash of red light exploded across the sands. The earth shuddered beneath the force, sending ripples of dust and heat across the arena. The shockwave rippled outward, knocking the arbiter back as flames burst from the impact point.

Gasps erupted from the stands. Some screamed, others shielded their eyes as the brilliance seared through the air.

When the dust began to clear, the arena floor was scorched black — and at the center of that burning crater, a figure stood silhouetted against the crimson glow.

The crowd went still.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

And then—

"SEPTIMIUS!!!"

The cry rose again, louder than before, shaking the very heavens.

When the blinding crimson light finally faded, a single figure stood at its heart — Nathan, shrouded in a haze of drifting embers.

The crowd fell utterly silent. Dust swirled around his boots, painting his form in flickering shades of red and gold. His head was bowed, white hair veiling his face as he stood motionless amid the scorched sand — a lone soul defying both heaven and empire.

For a moment, no one dared breathe.

Then, slowly, Nathan lifted his gaze.

But he did not look toward Caesar — not at first. His eyes, cold and resolute, turned upward toward the heavens where the divine thrones hovered, radiant above the mortal world. His gaze found Pandora, serene and composed upon her seat, her expression unreadable beneath the divine light. Yet on her left… the throne of Athena stood empty.

The absence stung more than he expected.

A goddess who once descended beside Pandora for every match, every decision — now gone.

Just silence.

Just emptiness.

Nathan's jaw tightened. His chest felt heavy, not from fear, but from something deeper — a quiet ache, the hollow weight of disappointment. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that she would appear. That she might at least come to witness this final act. But her throne told him all he needed to know.

Then, at last, his gaze descended from the heavens — and locked upon Caesar.

The Emperor's breath caught.

Their eyes met across the sea of faces, and in that instant, the entire Colosseum vanished — for neither saw the crowd, nor the sunlight, nor the marble walls. Only each other.

A tremor of fury coursed through Caesar's veins. His hand clenched so tightly around the armrest of his throne that the carved gold creaked under the strain. He wanted to rise, to shout, to command the guards to cut Nathan down where he stood — but he did not. He couldn't. The moment demanded composure, not chaos.

Inside, however, his mind burned.

He came. He truly came!

Was the man mad? Did he not realize what awaited him?

If Athena appeared — if she truly descended — Nathan would be doomed. She would strike him down in an instant for his deceit in the Trojan War, for daring to trick her. Caesar almost laughed at the thought. Whatever strength Nathan possessed, it would mean nothing before a goddess's wrath.

And yet… the fool had come anyway.

To stand here, before the Empire, before the gods.

A man challenging fate itself.

"Arrogant fool," Caesar muttered under his breath, knuckles whitening as his anger warred with disbelief.

Nathan's gaze slid past him, falling briefly upon Johanna.

For the faintest heartbeat, their eyes met — a quiet, wordless exchange.

There was no fury in Nathan's look, no hatred, no lingering affection.

Just… acknowledgment. A brief, almost weary glance at the woman who had shattered his peaceful plan, the fragile dream he had tried to build in silence.

Johanna's breath hitched. Her hands trembled in her lap, and cold sweat ran down her temple. She looked away almost immediately, her heart pounding so violently she feared Caesar might hear it. Her throat constricted; every muscle in her body screamed at her to remain still. But the weight of Nathan's gaze — calm, piercing, unblinking — was unbearable.

He had come back.

He had really come back.

The Roman arbiter, shaken but recovering, raised his arms and bellowed to the heavens:

"SEPTIMIUS IS HERE!!"

The name thundered through the arena once more, carried on the renewed cries of the crowd. They rose to their feet, shouting, clapping, chanting — their earlier doubt washed away by sheer exhilaration.

"The duel can begin!" the arbiter roared. "Are you ready?!"

A metallic echo filled the air as Benjamin took a heavy step forward. His armor clanked with each movement, the dull thud of iron meeting earth. Through the slit in his helmet, those empty, soulless eyes fixed on Nathan — unfeeling, almost mechanical.

Nathan turned to face him.

His expression did not change, but a flicker of recognition crossed his mind. He remembered this man — the same trembling soul who had once fled from him in terror, back when Nathan had hunted him down for Ameriah and Auria's kidnapping. Back then, Benjamin's fear had been human, desperate.

But now?

There was no trace of the man he'd known.

What stood before him was hollow — a puppet of flesh wrapped in steel.

The arbiter's arm fell.

"BEGIN!!"

A deafening roar followed as Benjamin charged, the ground shaking under his weight. His massive fist swung like a battering ram, cutting through the air with a howl of wind.

Nathan raised his arm, catching the strike mid-swing.

The impact reverberated through his bones — the force pushing him back, boots skidding across the sand, tearing shallow grooves behind him. For a creature so heavily armored, Benjamin was fast. Faster than he had any right to be.

But even as he steadied himself, Nathan's eyes flicked upward again.

Toward that empty throne.

Still vacant.

Still silent.

No Athena.

He exhaled softly through his nose, a faint tremor running through his shoulders. The words he had spoken to her before — the truths he had tried to convey — had not reached her after all.

He wasn't surprised.

But the disappointment still cut deep.

Not pain. Not sorrow. Just a lingering frustration — the kind that coils in the chest when one's efforts crumble against indifference.

BADAM!

The impact cracked through the air like thunder. Nathan staggered, his arm raised just in time to intercept the blow — yet the force of it sent him sliding backward across the bloodstained sand. His boots dug trenches behind him as he skidded, the ground trembling beneath his weight.

Benjamin didn't hesitate. The hulking gladiator was already charging again, his armor clanging with every heavy step. A dark, swirling energy pulsed around his fist — a mass of black, writhing corruption, like a wound in reality itself.

The power of a corrupted god.

Or rather, its curse.

BADAAAM!

The next strike hit Nathan square in the chest, hurling him across the arena. His back slammed against the stone wall with a thunderous crack, the impact throwing up a storm of dust.

The crowd gasped. Even Caesar flinched slightly before settling back into a thin smile.

Nathan's body ached barely, his arm trembling from the shock, but his eyes… his eyes were fixed not on Benjamin — not on Caesar — but upward.

Toward Athena's empty throne.

Still vacant.

Still silent.

A small hollow feeling spread in his chest.

Why hadn't she come?

He had told her everything — laid bare his truth, his reasons, his regrets. And yet, she stayed away. Perhaps she no longer cared. Perhaps every ounce of affection, curiosity, or compassion she once held for Septimius had died the moment she learned who he really was.

Maybe she simply couldn't accept him.

Or worse… maybe she intended to capture him. Use him. Tear from him every secret before delivering divine judgment.

Nathan almost laughed — a quiet, breathless chuckle that never quite escaped his lips.

"Why does this bother me?" he thought bitterly.

Was it pride? No… not quite. It was something deeper, more vulnerable. The realization struck him like a whisper in the dark:

He had liked her. Truly.

Her brilliance. Her strength. The way she saw through every lie. Athena had been… something different. And more importantly her selflessness. But now, she was gone.

So that's what this is, he thought. Not rage. Not betrayal.

Just disappointment — sharp and quiet — the kind that comes when something precious slips from reach.

Pushing himself from the cratered wall, Nathan exhaled and raised his head.

Benjamin was already there. The corrupted gladiator loomed before him, his arm wreathed in shadow. Another punch came, rippling with dark magic.

BADAM!

The blow landed hard. Blood splattered from Nathan's lips as he was flung backward once more, crashing to the sand. His tunic was torn, his side bleeding.

He staggered to his feet, wiping his mouth, crimson staining his knuckles. His breath came in bursts, yet his gaze remained steady.

"What's even the point anymore…" He muttered.

For the first time, the question struck him clearly.

Why continue? Why fight?

The entire purpose of this tournament — every round, every victory — had been tied to Athena's gaze. At first he wanted to get her attention to pit her against Caesar but things changed and then he wanted to win officially Pandora.

But without Athena her, there was no reason.

No final reward. No closure.

She was the one with the last word, after all. Even if he won, even if he defeated every challenger, she would never entrust Pandora to him. Not now. Not after all that had happened.

So what was left?

Benjamin lifted his hand. Dark energy coiled in his palm, forming a jagged lance of corruption that shimmered with venomous light. The weapon hummed with killing intent, aimed straight at Nathan's heart.

Nathan stared at it, unflinching.

"Who cares about this tournament," he whispered under his breath.

His eyes drifted upward again. The sky was filled with the thrones of gods, each divine figure watching with cold amusement. Their gazes were heavy, their silence cruel.

He felt nothing for them. No reverence. No awe.

They were witnesses, nothing more.

Only one of them had mattered.

And she wasn't there.

So why waste his strength? Why keep playing their game?

Let Benjamin win. Let them crown their champion.

He could walk away from this farce, tear down Caesar's throne, and disappear with Ameriah and Auria.

A small smile touched his lips — weary, resigned.

As Benjamin's corrupted lance shimmered with deadly light, Nathan didn't move. He spread his arms slightly, eyes half-closed, waiting for the strike.

The weapon hurtled forward, a blur of black energy screaming through the air.

It was almost… funny.

Not as deep as the heartbreak Phoebe had left him with, no — that pain was older, crueler, carved into his very soul. But this… this hollow little ache at losing Athena as a woman felt quite familiar. Another fleeting connection lost to fate.

"She was a remarkable woman," he murmured softly. "Truly."

The lance neared.

And then—

ROAAAAAAAR!

The arena erupted. A wave of cheers and shouts rolled through the stands like a living storm.

Nathan's eyes snapped open.

The crowd — the same crowd that had fallen silent moments ago — was now shouting with renewed energy. Their cries weren't taunting. They weren't cruel. They were awed.

Confused, Nathan lifted his gaze toward the heavens.

And there — above the shining clouds and marble thrones — his eyes widened.

For the seat that had been empty only moments ago…

…was no longer vacant.

Bathed in golden light, the throne of Athena now gleamed once more.

And upon it, the Goddess of Wisdom had finally arrived.

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