The Coliseum was eerily silent.
Only moments ago, murmurs and whispers of disbelief had filled the air, but now, under the weight of what was to come, the gathered trainees stood frozen, their gazes fixed on the man who stood atop the central stone platform—Melo.
Melo was no mere instructor. He was Roman Lionhart's most trusted right-hand man, a figure of absolute authority within the family. Though his face was hidden behind a silver mask, his piercing golden eyes were visible through the openings, glowing like those of a predator surveying its prey.
For decades, he had served the Lionhart Patriarch, ensuring that Roman's will was carried out without fail. Those who knew of him understood one thing—Melo never spoke without reason, and he never acted without purpose.
The air around him was heavy, suffocating even. He stood with effortless control, his black robes still despite the wind, exuding the kind of authority that made it clear—he was not here for formalities.
