In the aftermath of the Phantom's shocking victory over Imhotep, the air crackled with an atmosphere that set every spectator's nerves on edge.
Whispers raced through the crowd like wildfire, theories and speculations growing more outlandish with each retelling.
High above the arena floor, nestled in the shadows of a twisting spire, sat the Phantom.
The face mask that obscured his features revealed only his eyes - those twin pools of molten gold that surveyed the Colosseum with calculating intensity.
As he contemplated his next move, a presence materialized beside him.
Whisper, the enigmatic observer, stepped from a fold in reality that hadn't existed a moment before.
"Quite the performance earlier," Whisper's voice was barely audible, yet it cut through the din of the crowd below with perfect clarity. "You've certainly got everyone's attention now."
