"Move! Move! Clear the way! The Emperor is passing!"
The frantic shouts bounced through the narrow stone tunnels beneath the coliseum like trapped thunder. Torches flickered wildly as soldiers pushed through the passageways, shields raised, forming a living wall around Caesar and Octavius. The air reeked of dust, sweat, and the metallic tang of fear — fear that spread like a plague with every roar from the arena behind them.
Caesar marched quickly, almost breaking into a run. His imperial robes, usually symbols of absolute authority, now tangled around his legs as if protesting the retreat. He didn't care. Dignity could be reclaimed — life could not.
He had summoned the two ancient Beasts of Rome with calculated precision, believing he could control the spectacle, believing he could control everything. But even he hadn't expected one of them — Romulus himself — to be hurled straight into the arena like a meteor of claws and teeth.
