The moment Tatia's words faded into the air, the atmosphere in the arena shifted.
A sharp gust of wind rustled through the vast stone colosseum, sending dust swirling around the three figures standing at its center. The crowd—silent, expectant—leaned forward, their eyes locked onto the trio.
Mark exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching. He could feel it. The pressure. The weight of the expectations.
From his mother. From his sister. From the powerful figures watching from above.
His heart pounded.
Aria rolled her shoulders, her smirk never leaving her face. "So… you finally grew some balls and showed up?" She tilted her head. "Took you long enough."
Mark's jaw clenched. "Tch. Shut up."
Alfred, standing a few feet away, didn't even react. His posture was relaxed, his hands at his sides. He didn't even bother looking at Mark.
It was disrespectful.
Mark's fingers curled into fists. "Are you even taking this seriously?"
Alfred finally turned his head, his face unreadable. "No."
