CHAPTER 12: VILLAIN ARC

"BE QUIET!"

The words tore from my throat, raw and powerful, yet something about them was... unnatural. The scream carried a strange resonance, a layered harmony as if two distinct voices spoke in perfect unison. I knew, deep down, what had caused it. The earring.

Silence swept across the Colosseum like a storm had passed through. Every Colossal, Keane, the spectators, even the Queens, was struck mute, frozen in place. The rage boiling within me was momentarily eclipsed by a sharp pang of guilt. Guilt for ever doubting Xanthe.

The realization of what I'd just done hadn't fully settled in, nor had the impossible strength now coursing through my body. Without effort, I lifted an axe nearly as large as I was, its weight meaningless in my grasp. It was a warrior's weapon, blackened steel, its edges dulled by time and battle, rust clinging to dried bloodstains. The ground had nearly swallowed it, as if the earth itself wished to forget the warrior who once wielded it. One of my kin, an uncle, an aunt, perhaps even a distant ancestor, had died here, in this very arena, in the brutal contest for succession. And now, I carried their burden.

Titus rose from his seat once more, but this time, his expression betrayed something unexpected, shock. The monster he had awakened was no longer his to command.

"WHAT A SHAME," I murmured the words he had once said, lifting my gaze.

With one swift motion, I raised the axe and severed my long black hair, the last vestige of my father, that wretched bastard. A symbolic act, both of defiance and grief. It was my final tribute to my mother, the only person in this world who had truly mattered. I wanted them to see, to see the vibrant blue eyes I had inherited from her, to witness what they had stolen from me.

"NOW BOW BEFORE YOUR ONE TRUE KING!"

The words rang out, layered again with that eerie duality, as my gaze locked onto Titus's cold, lifeless eyes.

Keane was the first to kneel, his body surrendering without hesitation. Then, like dominos, the spectators followed, the two Queens of Caelum bending their heads in submission. Every Colossal in the arena obeyed. All but one.

Titus remained standing. His will was unshaken, his resolve unbroken. Of course. He was the man who had slain the Hydra with his own hands.

I had committed the greatest act of treason imaginable. Colossals could only kneel to a new king if the old one was dead. Yet Titus had twisted the rules of succession before, why couldn't I? A young wolf challenging the aging alpha, ready to tear out his throat.

And then I saw him. Beyond Keane, a familiar face emerged from the sea of kneeling bodies. My old friend, the commentator. He, too, had bowed.

I walked past Keane and stood before him.

"STAND," I commanded. "TAKE THIS AXE AND BASH YOUR HEAD IN UNTIL I TELL YOU TO STOP."

He trembled, yet his hands obeyed before his mind could resist. The first blow landed with a sickening crunch. Then another. And another. Blood pooled at his feet. His skull split, fragments scattering like broken porcelain.

He collapsed, lifeless.

"Good boy," I muttered, looking down at his ruined face. "But I don't recall telling you to stop."

I turned back to Keane. His eyes, wide and desperate, pleaded for mercy, but he could not speak, could not beg. The earring's power had sealed his fate.

"Farewell, brother," I said softly. "I suppose you'll be meeting Mother before I do."

The axe fell.

His head rolled, blood staining the ground in deep crimson. I lifted it high, letting the assembled Colossals and Titus himself bear witness, before hurling it toward the throne.

The Colosseum was awash in blood, and I stood drenched in it.

Titus frowned, his face dark with something unreadable. Caitriona's beautiful face was streaked with tears, yet she could not scream, could not mourn. The earring had stolen even that from her.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!" Titus roared.

I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. "I AM THE SON OF RHEA."

A loud crash shattered the silence. The arena gates flew open, kicked down with brute force. Xanthe stood at the entrance, tears streaming as she ran toward my mother's side.

From the opposite end, a sound rumbled, a low, guttural growl. A Colossal was stirring, straining against the earring's control.

Someone was fighting back.

I stepped forward, peering through the carnage, trying to see who it was.

And then—