Nathan lifted his gaze toward the heavens, his breath catching as his eyes locked upon the radiant figure descending from above.

It was her.

There was no mistaking that divine presence, no mistaking the cold grace that could belong only to Athena.

She had come.

For a moment, Nathan could hardly believe it. He had waited in silence, thinking maybe that she might appear — and now, she was here. Yet, more than her arrival, what unsettled him most was what didn't happen. The fact that she stood beside Pandora, that she revealed herself openly before him and took no action — no divine retribution, no judgment — could not be without meaning.

If she had truly wished to reject him, to erase him for daring to speak the truth he did, she would have never come.

No… her presence meant something.

She had heard him. She had acknowledged his words. Even if some part of her heart still resented him, even if the old wounds between them had not yet healed — she would not have come if there were no trace of belief left in her.

"You have come late, Athena," came a voice laced with amusement. Dionysus turned toward her, a smile curling his lips.

"Does it truly matter," Athena replied calmly, her tone neither defensive nor apologetic, "whether I come early or late?"

Dionysus chuckled, swirling the goblet in his hand, his gaze never leaving her. "I would say it does. After all, you are the one who conceived this tournament, who demanded it take place. Shouldn't the architect arrive before the structure is complete?"

Silence followed — a silence that lingered like a breath caught in the air, until Athena finally spoke again. Her voice, usually so sharp and composed, softened slightly.

"This tournament… is little more than a formality now," she said.

Her gaze drifted downward, settling upon Nathan. He stood in the arena's ruins — battered, bloodied, yet unbowed — staring back at her with eyes that burned, not from rage, but something deeper… longing, perhaps.

Athena's lips tightened.

Though he appeared wounded, she knew his true strength. In the Trojan War she saw it and when he revealed himself to her, he was even more stronger than during the Trojan War. The ease with which he had once dismantled his foes was something even she had silently admired. And yet, this time… he had allowed himself to be beaten.

Why?

She could not understand. Unless…

Her heart stirred. Was it because of me?

Had her absence broken his resolve? Had her silence robbed him of purpose?

For a fleeting instant, a rare expression of regret flickered across Athena's face — but it was gone as swiftly as it came.

At last, she raised her voice, letting it ring across the arena like a bell of judgment.

"The Partner of Pandora has already been chosen."

Her declaration thundered across the air, cutting through the chaos like divine law itself.

Nathan's eyes widened. The words struck him harder than any blade or spell.

Already chosen?

Before he could even process the weight of what she said —

BAAADOOM!!!

A massive explosion of black energy tore through the battlefield.

Benjamin, his form cloaked in shadows, hurled his lance wreathed in corrupted power straight toward Nathan. The ground cracked beneath his feet, shockwaves surging outward as the lance tore through the air like a serpent of pure death.

"S...Septimius!"

A cry echoed from above.

In the grand balcony overlooking the coliseum, Julia leapt to her feet. Her eyes glistened with tears, her voice trembling with desperation. She had been weeping ever since Nathan began to fall behind — since every strike, every wound, left him slower, and seemingly weaker, and closer to collapse. Now, watching that dreadful spear close in, terror seized her heart completely.

Her father, Caesar, sat beside her in grim silence. His face was cold, carved in disapproval at his daughter's emotional display, but even his imperial composure faltered for an instant. He, too, understood what was about to happen.

Nathan had no strength left to move. No chance to block. No time to escape.

He was truly done for.

A faint smirk curved his lips.

If Benjamin doesn't kill him… then Athena surely will, right?

The thought slipped through his mind like a whisper, equal parts irony and resignation.

The dark, corrupted lance tore through the air like a storm of death, its shrieking trail rending the silence of the arena. It spun with a malignant force — a weapon meant to end not just a man, but a symbol.

And yet, Nathan did not flinch.

He raised his gaze toward the heavens once more, his eyes locking on the radiant figure above — Athena.

For a fleeting moment, everything around him — the cries, the chaos, the blinding power — seemed to vanish. There was only her.

A faint, almost weary smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"So… you came, Athena," he murmured under his breath, the words barely carried by the wind.

It was all he needed. If she had heard his words, if she had chosen to descend and witness him now… then he could not, would not, fall before another.

The lance drew closer, its corrupted aura reaching out like a beast hungry for his soul. But Nathan's eyes hardened. He turned, facing his oncoming death — and in that instant, divine light erupted around his hand.

From the golden brilliance of his soul, a blade emerged — the sword of Alexander the Great, gleaming with ancient majesty. It shimmered with the echoes of conquest, carrying the weight of a thousand victories and the will of kings long gone.

Nathan grasped it firmly.

With one powerful motion, he swung.

BAAADOOM!!!

The impact shook the arena to its core. The golden blade cleaved through the black lance effortlessly, tearing it apart mid-flight. Shards of corrupted energy scattered across the battlefield like dying stars before fading into smoke.

Then, silence.

Tens of thousands watched in stunned disbelief. The stadium, once roaring with noise, had gone still — every eye fixed upon the lone figure standing amidst the dust and ruin.

And then, slowly… as realization sank in, a murmur rose.

Nathan stood tall, rolling his shoulder with a quiet crack, his expression calm yet resolute.

"I gave you plenty of time to finish me," he said, his tone almost casual, but carrying the weight of command. "And you didn't. So now… I'll fight back, Benjamin."

His gaze sharpened, golden light flaring in his irises for a split of moment.

The next moment, Nathan vanished.

BADAM!

A sound like thunder erupted as he reappeared right before Benjamin, his leg already swinging. The strike connected squarely against the armored titan's side — and the sound that followed was horrendous.

Metal shattered. Bone snapped.

The sheer force of the kick sent ripples through the air, a shockwave that made even the divine spectators flinch.

Benjamin's dull, lifeless eyes widened in disbelief as his colossal body was hurled backward like a meteor. He crashed into the outer wall of the coliseum, stone exploding around him. The impact shook the upper balconies, forcing several nobles to clutch their seats as the structure groaned from the force.

No one cared about the danger.

The crowd had erupted into chaos — not of fear, but of elation.

"SEPTIMIUS!"

"SEPTIMIUS! SEPTIMIUS! SEPTIMIUSSS!!"

Their voices shook the heavens. The very city trembled beneath the unified cry of tens of thousands chanting his name.

Before the match began, many had already chosen their champion. The moment Nathan — the man known as Septimius — rose again, defying the impossible, every heart turned to him. He was their hero, their defiant flame.

And now, seeing him stand once more… they screamed until their throats bled.

From the imperial balcony, Caesar and Octavius watched grimly, their expressions dark as night. The thunderous cheers grated against their pride.

"So he still stands," Caesar muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening.

It would have been too easy if Nathan had simply died there. Too convenient.

But fate had no intention of granting them such mercy.

And as Caesar looked closer, his eyes narrowed. Benjamin was still alive — but something about him had changed.

A low tremor ran through the man's massive frame. His body convulsed violently, black veins spreading across his flesh as a vile, tar-like substance began to ooze from his skin, dripping onto the ground.

"What is this…" Dionysus murmured, his playful tone fading.

Hermes leaned forward, his usual grin gone. "That… is one of Iblis's Beasts' powers," he said grimly.

At the mention of that name, Athena's expression darkened immediately. Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in disgust.

And she wasn't the only one.

Around her, gods from countless pantheons shifted uncomfortably. Their divine light flickered with unease.

"Oh, that's disgusting," muttered Sif, covering her nose, as if the corruption carried a stench that even divinity could not endure. She turned away in revulsion. "I can feel it — the rot, the filth. I refuse to breathe the same air as that abomination."

Even Ishtar, radiant and vain as ever, wore an expression of contempt. "A disgrace," she said coldly. "How could any being allow such corruption to dwell within?"

Their hatred was unanimous. None among the gods could bear the taint of Iblis — the exiled one, the fallen god of chaos and hatred. Cast out by all pantheons, he was the enemy of creation itself.

Yet before the disgust could settle, Ishtar's lips curved into a smug smile. "Well, worry not, Sif. My dear Septimius will take care of him."

Sif blinked, then smirked faintly. "Your Septimius? Hasn't Athena rejected you enough for one eternity?"

Ishtar's eyes widened. "Sif! How did you—!"

And then, realization dawned. Her glare snapped toward Hermes, who was desperately pretending to whistle.

If there was ever a God of Gossip, it was him — and he was absolutely listening back then.

"I'll deal with her later," Ishtar muttered under her breath, brushing aside Sif's teasing with a flick of her hair. Her gaze returned to the arena — to Nathan — and a slow, almost predatory smile curved her lips. Her tongue slipped out briefly, tracing them as her golden eyes gleamed with dangerous fascination.

How intriguing he is, she thought. Even now, battered and standing amid ruin, he remained calm — almost serene. There was something about that composure, that quiet defiance, that stirred something primal even in gods.

Nathan, however, was far removed from such thoughts. His focus was steady, unwavering. As the black corruption swirled and seethed around Benjamin, he merely watched. To him, it was a familiar spectacle — one he had witnessed too many times before.

He had seen this same darkness consume Paris, twisting his body into something monstrous. He had seen it poison Agamemnon, devouring his pride and soul alike. The stench of it, the way it crawled and writhed across the flesh — yes, this was the unmistakable power of a Corrupted Beast.

But this time, something was different.

Benjamin was no mere pawn or tyrant. He was a Hero, once blessed with divine light — and now, watching the black veins pulse violently beneath his skin, Nathan could tell. The corruption wasn't stable. It was tearing through Benjamin's body, devouring his life as much as it fueled his strength.

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "Again… one of those things."

He exhaled quietly, more weary than surprised.

The corruption, the whispers of the fallen gods, the beasts of Iblis — they were becoming far too common. Each encounter, each revelation, painted a darker picture of the world's current state.

He never cared for these so-called Corrupted Gods. Their ambitions, their hatred, their desperate attempts to crawl back into relevance — it all meant nothing to him. But lately, their shadow had stretched farther than he anticipated.

Even Azariah's father, the Demon King — a ruler once bound by honor and pride — had fallen to the same taint, becoming a tyrant enslaved by madness.

Nathan's fingers tightened around the hilt of his golden blade. The thought lingered for a moment, heavy and silent.

Perhaps… once he was done dealing with the Light Empire, he should look deeper into this corruption, into Iblis's creeping influence that now reached even heroes and kings.

But not now.

Now, standing beneath Athena's gaze, with the roar of the crowd echoing around him and Benjamin trembling before his eyes — there was only one thing left to do.

He would cut down the corrupted beast before him.

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