Mammon didn't wait for Wrath to answer.
Silence was, after all, already an answer.
Around the arena, the demigods began to shift. Their positions subtly adjusted, spacing narrowing in a way that felt practiced—habitual. Domains brushed together, not clashing, but layering. Pressure multiplied.
Wrath felt it immediately.
This wasn't a challenge.
This was containment. Containment of him.
Wrath had seen this formation before. Not used against himself—but against others.
Mammon folded the parchment with care and tucked it away. His voice, when he spoke again, was still mild. Almost apologetic.
"Do you remember why we formalized these councils?" he asked.
Wrath snarled but didn't answer. But of course he remembered. He was one of the instigators for forming these council meetings.
Mammon smiled faintly but didn't get upset at the lack of reply. "Because discipline requires witnesses, otherwise it may just be regarded as betrayal."
