At the colosseum, once the pride of Tulmud, where cheers had roared and banners fluttered in golden light, there was now only ruin. Smoke coiled in lazy plumes toward the darkening sky, mingling with ash and the sickening tang of burnt flesh. Fire flickered from broken archways. Cries echoed, some wounded, others simply disoriented, dazed survivors crawling through rubble. But near the center of the destruction, where the noble stands had once overlooked spectacle, silence took root.
A massive mound of stone and shattered masonry loomed over what remained of the arena's VIP section. And then it shifted. Slowly at first, a pebble rolling, a beam tipping, until a wall split down the middle and fell aside with a great groan. From beneath it emerged a figure, armored, tall, unyielding.
