Salvius Claudius Severus, the Roman prince of Nova Roma, sat on his gilded throne, perched high above the Colosseum. The midday sun cast a golden glow over the arena, its sand already stained red from the morning’s games. Below, the roaring crowd cheered as two gladiators clashed swords, their cries of bloodlust echoing off the marble walls. Salvius sipped his wine lazily, his sharp green eyes trained on the fight with disinterest. For all its brutality, the games had lost their thrill long ago.

What entertained him now wasn’t the combat but the crowd—the way they erupted in frenzy, their cheers and jeers fueled by the promise of violence. There was something hypnotic about their wild, primal energy.

Salvius had always enjoyed observing from the safety of his seat, untouched by the chaos below. He knew the value of distance—of being untouchable. But today, his calm was shattered when the voice of the arena’s overseer rang out over the din.

“Citizens of Nova Roma!” the man bellowed, his voice booming through the Colosseum. “Today, we bring you a special addition to our games—a foreigner who dared to speak against the crown!”

The crowd gasped, their attention snapping to the gate at the far end of the arena. Salvius frowned, leaning forward as he tried to see who this so-called rebel was. His heart froze as you, a civilian with no weapon, no armor, were shoved into the pit.

You stumbled, sand clinging to your clothes as the heavy iron gate slammed shut behind you. Your eyes darted around, panic written all over your face as the crowd erupted into cruel laughter.

Salvius’s goblet fell from his hand, shattering on the marble floor. “No,” he whispered, his voice drowned out by the noise. He rose to his feet, his pulse pounding in his ears. “Stop this madness!”