Several long, suffocating minutes had passed since the gladiator tournament had been violently interrupted—minutes that felt like hours to the people of Rome. The ground had trembled, the air had turned heavy, and then the unthinkable happened: the two sacred Beasts, protectors of the Eternal City itself, had been summoned.

From that moment onward, Rome descended into absolute panic.

The once lively streets, bursting with cheers and excitement for the tournament, had been swallowed by a chaos so thick and wild it felt alive. The screams of terrified citizens echoed through the marble avenues as they ran in every direction, desperately trying to escape the violence erupting around them.

But the true terror wasn't just the beasts.

It was the assassins.

Figures cloaked in shadow, their faces completely hidden, sprinted through the crowds with blades dripping fresh blood. They were killing indiscriminately, cutting down Romans as if they were wheat in a field. The moment their slaughter began, squads of Roman soldiers stormed in to intercept them—arriving just in time to prevent an even greater massacre.

Yet something was off.

Those soldiers weren't just fighting assassins… they were fighting each other.

At first glance it was confusing—Roman armor clashing against Roman armor, identical crimson cloaks whipping through the air—but anyone who looked closely would quickly notice the truth. Half the soldiers wore the standard armor of the Roman Empire, while the others bore the more ornate, personalized designs reserved for the private legion of Julius Caesar.

And they were killing each other.

The realization spread like wildfire: Rome wasn't just under attack. It was on the brink of civil war.

People were stunned, frozen for a heartbeat by the shock, but survival quickly snapped them out of it. No matter whose banners were rising or falling, it meant nothing to the citizens caught in the middle. All they could do was run—because assassins weren't the only threat.

Not far from the city center, another battle raged—larger, louder, and more devastating than any mortal conflict.

There, towering over shattered columns and ruined stone, was Remus, one of Rome's sacred wolf guardians. A massive beast of snow-white fur and piercing icy eyes, he moved like a force of nature, every step cracking the earth beneath him. And standing in his path, glowing with divine authority, was Goddess Athena.

From a distance it might have looked as though she held the upper hand—after all, she was a deity, one of the greatest warriors among the Greek pantheon. But the truth was different.

Athena wasn't struggling to survive the fight.

She was struggling to stop it.

Every movement she made was calculated, careful, controlled. She had to restrain Remus without injuring him too seriously, and more importantly, she had to keep him from tearing Rome apart in his frenzy.

Her connection to the wolves ran deep. She had seen Remus and his brother Romulus when they were barely the size of her hands—little bundles of snow-white fur that yipped and tumbled clumsily around her feet. She had watched them grow, guided their strength, and ultimately sealed them within Rome itself to act as its eternal guardians.

Now, seeing Remus reduced to this rampaging state, her heart ached.

Hovering in the air, her golden lance raised and shimmering with divine energy, Athena circled the beast with her eyes narrowed in concentration. Remus's attention was fixed entirely on her—snarling, pawing at the stone, ready to pounce.

"Do you need some help, Athena?"

A calm, almost amused voice drifted through the storm of destruction.

Athena glanced sideways to see Amaterasu, the radiant sun goddess, approaching with a gentle smile that seemed almost out of place in the chaos.

"No," Athena replied instantly.

"Are you sure?" Amaterasu tilted her head slightly, "It looks like you're having trouble. I could help you subdue him."

"I want him alive, Amaterasu," Athena sighed, not lowering her lance. "You'd melt him into roasted wolf before I could blink."

It wasn't an exaggeration. Amaterasu's flames were infamous among gods—completely divine, utterly destructive, and far from gentle. Athena knew all too well how that would end.

"What about the other one?" Amaterasu asked, though her tone suggested she already expected the answer. "You're letting Romulus run loose in the Coliseum even though there are thousands of people trapped inside."

"The others are there," Athena said sharply. "If they have even the slightest respect for their divine titles, they will protect the mortals."

Amaterasu let out a soft, wry smile. "You expect too much from them."

It wasn't a lie. Athena was one of the rare gods who still cared about mortals in any meaningful way. Most of the others were… less compassionate. Some were probably enjoying the chaos. Maybe even cheering for it.

Athena didn't respond. Her eyes drifted—only for a moment—toward the massive shadow of the Coliseum rising in the distance.

She could feel it, clear as day.

The intense clash happening inside.

The battle between Nathan… and Romulus.

°°°°°

Inside the colossal stone walls of the Coliseum, Nathan stood alone on the arena floor, staring up at Romulus, the second sacred Beast of Rome. The creature's massive form dominated nearly the entire battlefield, its fur bristling like iron spikes, its enormous shadow swallowing the sand beneath it. Two burning red eyes glared down at him—eyes filled with primal fury, intelligence, and a hunger that promised death.

For a moment, there was silence.

A strange, heavy silence, as if the world itself were holding its breath while man and monster measured each other.

"…Is he really going to fight it?" Sif asked from above, her voice echoing with disbelief.

She wasn't the only one. The question hung in the air, whispered in awe and dread by gods and humans alike. In the upper rows of the tribunes, mortals froze mid-escape, unable to look away. Even the deities floating in the sky found themselves pausing, curious, confused, or simply stunned.

Because no matter how strong Nathan was…

Romulus was on an entirely different level.

"I wonder," Ishtar murmured, her usually teasing tone replaced by something far more serious. She narrowed her eyes, watching Nathan with unusual focus. "He's not stupid. It would be… disappointing if he turned out to be just another arrogant idiot who gets himself killed."

But something about Nathan felt different.

His posture was grounded. His gaze was unwavering. Not a hint of fear or hesitation in his expression. He wasn't walking to his death blindly—he was making a decision.

A quiet decision.

One that even the gods could feel.

Seconds passed with every pair of eyes locked on him—mortals trembling, gods holding their breath, assassins and soldiers alike halting their battles outside the walls to look toward the Coliseum.

And then Nathan moved.

He stepped once—lightly—and then launched forward, blasting off the ground like a bolt of lightning. Air cracked beneath him as he shot straight toward Romulus, his right hand gripping the radiant golden sword of Alexander the Great, its blade gleaming like a shard of sunlight.

Romulus's eyes narrowed. A guttural growl rumbled deep in its chest, followed by a flicker of flame curling between its fangs. The beast opened its enormous maw, and the inside of its throat glowed a violent molten red—charged with raw fire magic powerful enough to reduce the arena to ash.

Then it fired.

A colossal torrent of white-hot flames exploded outward.

Nathan saw the inferno and smiled faintly.

Yeah… taking that head-on would definitely be bad.

With a sharp kick to the air, he propelled himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the blazing stream. The fire ripped past him, slamming into the ground with a deafening—

BADOOOOOM!

The blast swept upward toward the tribunes. Thousands of spectators gasped, some screamed, others simply froze and accepted what they believed would be certain death.

But the fire never reached them.

Instead, it crashed into a shimmering barrier that flared into existence around the stands. A massive dome of radiant protection enveloped the entire audience—and sealed Nathan and Romulus inside the arena.

The civilians stared at one another, confused, stunned, and trembling, unsure of who had saved them.

Nathan, however, knew.

He glanced upward and saw Hermes, floating casually above the battlefield, one eyebrow raised in amusement. When their eyes met, Hermes gave him a sly wink, as if to say I'm watching you, kid.

Nathan wasn't surprised. That god probably knew everything—his identity, his secrets, maybe even his thoughts. But Hermes had kept silent, revealing nothing to the other deities. Nathan had no idea why, and at the moment, didn't have the time to care.

Because Romulus was already charging again.

The massive wolf slammed its front leg down, swiping with claws the length of swords—claws sharp enough to rip through a man's torso like paper. The ground split beneath the force of the attack as the enormous paw swung toward Nathan with lethal precision.

Nathan saw the massive leg whipping toward him with terrifying speed. Instinct took over. He raised his sword sharply and swung with all the force he could gather.

BADOOOOOOM!!

The collision shook the entire arena.

A violent shockwave blasted outward, sending sand spraying like a storm as steel met monstrous flesh. Nathan hung suspended in midair for a split second, his golden blade grinding painfully against Romulus's enormous claws—claws longer than swords, polished and razor-sharp.

One of those claws scraped along his forearm as he narrowly dodged the brunt of the blow. The pain was immediate and vicious. Blood spattered through the air, and a strip of flesh tore away as if peeled by a butcher's knife.

Nathan winced—but did not falter.

He pushed back against the paw, muscles straining as Romulus pressed down with overwhelming force. For several long seconds they remained locked in a brutal stalemate, man against beast, neither yielding, each measuring the other's strength.

Then Romulus's leg began to glow.

A deep, furious red pulsed beneath the fur, heat gathering in an instant. Flames raced across the limb like wildfire—

—and then detonated.

A massive explosion erupted point-blank, swallowing Nathan whole in a swirling inferno.

BAAAAAAAAAADOOOOOOOOM!!

The force shook the Coliseum to its foundations. Mortals screamed. Gods leaned forward in shock. For a moment, no one could even see the arena floor through the cloud of fire and debris.

Everyone froze.

Had he been incinerated?

Had Nathan—mortal, demigod, or whatever he truly was—finally met something too strong to withstand?

But then—

A silhouette burst out of the flames.

Nathan shot backward out of the explosion, flipping midair before landing and sliding across the sandy ground, boots carving a long line in the dirt. Smoke trailed behind him. His arm was blistered and charred with burn marks, the skin peeling painfully.

But his expression?

He was smiling.

"Looks like Athena was right," Nathan murmured, eyes locked on the gigantic wolf towering over him.

A true beast created to kill demigods.

A creature born to challenge gods themselves.

His smile widened slightly—not in arrogance, but in thrill. This was the kind of fight his blood craved.

Then Nathan inhaled slowly. A faint glow began spreading across his entire body, shimmering like golden embers rising from beneath his skin. His outline flickered, blurred, then shone brighter as the illusion wrapped around him began peeling away like dissolving parchment.

The disguise of Septimius melted off him entirely.

And Nathan revealed his true form.

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