After what happened in the Colosseum, the air reeked with anticipation and the metallic tang of spilled blood.
Spectators from across Naaim pressed against the shimmering barriers, their faces a palette of emotions - awe, fear, bloodlust, and reverence.
In the center of the vast arena, a figure stood alone, arms raised in triumph.
Judas Iscariot, the Betrayer, his robes stained crimson, a wicked smile playing across his lips.
At his feet lay the broken form of Pontius Pilate, the once-proud Roman governor now nothing more than a lifeless husk.
And finally, he was forgiven...
The Ringmaster's voice boomed across the Colosseum, magically amplified to reach every ear.
"Judas Iscariot stands victorious!
Pilate has fallen, and with him, the hopes of New Rome in this tournament!"
A roar went up from the crowd, a parade of cheers and jeers.
