The Colosseum roared. Rome itself seemed alive, its heartbeat the chanting of tens of thousands who cried for blood and glory. The air above the arena was fevered, electric, thick with the sweat of the crowd and the burning scent of incense poured from braziers along the terraces. Yet below the grandeur of marble and sunlight, eight figures stood silently upon the sands, the chosen gladiators of this second round.
The announcer's voice boomed, magnified by magic and by the architecture itself:
"Today, brave Rome, your champions will descend! They will not clash against one another in this round, but against the darkness itself! Beasts, traps, and terrors await them in the bowels of the Colosseum!"
The people cheered until the earth trembled.
