The third day of the Gladiator Tournant had dawned, and with it the long-awaited second round of the grand spectacle was about to begin. The entire city of Ro stirred with anticipation, for the previous days had already been marked by blood, sweat, and the roar of the crowds. The first trial—a rciless battle royal—had thrown eight hundred combatants into the sands, divided into eight groups of one hundred each. From each group, only around ten had clawed their way out of the carnage, leaving a re eighty warriors standing victorious and blood-soaked. Those eighty now carried the weight of survival into the next round.
The air itself in Ro seed to vibrate with excitent. Long before the sun had risen to its zenith, and despite the fact that the battles would not be fought until nightfall, the city’s heart already beat faster. Streets filled with chatter, taverns buzzed with speculation, and vendors called out their wagers. Every Roman, from noble to beggar, felt the sa restless hunger for spectacle.
But while the people awaited the blood and thunder of the arena, Nathan’s morning was of an entirely different nature.
That peculiar dawn, he had left not in the company of n, but with none other than Athena herself, the goddess of wisdom and war, who had descended once more to escort him. Her presence alone was enough to turn heads and command silence, but Nathan had grown used to her calm authority. This morning was not about the Tournant. The morning was about Pandora.
It was ti—ti to finally et her face to face, as had been promised. A conversation, perhaps even a clash of wills, lood before him. And for this eting, Athena had not taken him to the radiant heights of Olympus City as she had before. No, today she had chosen sowhere else. Sowhere distant from divine politics. Sowhere untouched by chaos. Sowhere peaceful.
Deter’s garden.
The goddess of the harvest herself had agreed to arrange the encounter between Nathan and Pandora, and for this privilege, Nathan was to tread upon her sanctuary—a place whispered to be among the most beautiful corners of existence.
When they descended into it, Nathan’s breath caught. Words faltered.
The garden stretched out in endless perfection, a living mosaic of colors and scents. Fields of blossoms rolled like waves, swaying in a gentle breeze that carried with it the perfu of countless flowers. Trees bore fruit that shimred like jewels, and every blade of grass seed touched by divine hands. Birds sang in harmonious chorus, their lodies weaving into the hum of life itself. It was more than beautiful—it was transcendent. Nathan had seen palaces, temples, and cities built to honor gods, but never had he set eyes upon a place so pure, so alive.
"It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" Athena asked softly, her smile faint but knowing.
"It is," Nathan admitted, his voice low with awe.
"Deter has tended this garden for thousands of years," Athena explained. "With Persephone at her side. It is her life’s work, her sanctuary. We should be grateful she allowed even Pandora here."
"Pandora isn’t here yet?" Nathan asked, his voice steady but his heart beating faster.
"She will co," Athena said, her tone carrying both certainty and warning. "But you must be ready to face her. Co."
Nathan followed her along winding paths lined with blossoms and vines until a figure erged from among the trees. Deter herself.
She radiated warmth and dignity, her smile carrying the weight of centuries. "Right on ti, Athena," she said, her voice both welcoming and firm. "A surprise, perhaps, but not an unwelco one."
But Nathan’s attention was soon caught by the figure who followed at Deter’s side.
A woman stepped forward, her beauty rivaling even Athena’s own. Her hair was a cascade of silken white, falling in waves that seed to glow under the sunlight, adorned delicately with a single flower. Her eyes, crimson as fresh wine, glead with both curiosity and mischief. She moved with effortless grace, the very air bending to her presence. A goddess without question.
Persephone. Deter’s daughter.
"We must be prepared for Pandora," Persephone said, her voice soft but layered with strength. Her gaze then turned to Nathan, sharp and curious. She tilted her head slightly, as though examining a curious relic. "And this is the mortal who will face her?"
"He is," Athena confird.
Persephone studied him for a heartbeat longer, then offered the faintest of smiles. "Then I wish you good fortune. What is your na?"
"Septimius," Nathan answered evenly. "Thank you."
Her smile widened just a touch, as though she approved of his composure.
"Mother," Persephone said, turning to Deter, "let us show them the room we prepared."
"A room?" Nathan’s brow lifted, though he chose not to voice his doubt.
"Yes," Deter said with a serene nod. "Follow us."
They led him deeper still, to a house nestled within the heart of the garden. Unlike the palaces of gods, this ho was built of living wood and covered in vines and flowers, as though it had grown from the earth itself. It breathed, pulsed with life, and yet held the warmth of hospitality.
Inside, every surface blossod—walls draped in ivy, the air filled with fragrance.
"We have prepared this house for you and Pandora," Deter explained. "Here, you may speak as long as you wish, without fear of interruption."
Nathan cast a glance toward Athena, silently questioning the necessity of such care. Athena exhaled softly, a sigh tinged with reluctant acceptance.
"Perhaps it is excessive," she admitted. "But what matters is whether you’re comfortable with it."
Nathan shrugged lightly. "I don’t mind."
"Then so be it," Athena said. "Brace yourself. Wear the black stones. I will bring Pandora imdiately." With that, she vanished, leaving silence in her wake.
Nathan stepped further inside. The chamber was simple yet prepared with purpose—a small table for two, laid neatly with chairs awaiting their occupants. He could almost feel the tension woven into the space, as though even the flowers leaned in to listen.
Persephone lingered by the door, a mischievous giggle slipping from her lips. "Good luck, Septimius." She shut the door behind him with a delicate click.
Alone now, Nathan settled into one of the chairs. His hand reached for the necklace—black stones strung carefully, a creation of Hephaestus himself. Cold to the touch, heavy with divine power. He looped it around his neck, feeling its weight settle over his chest.
And then he waited.
Several minutes passed in heavy silence. Nathan sat waiting, the weight of Hephaestus’ black-stone necklace resting like a cold chain across his chest. His fingers tapped idly against the wooden table, each sound a quiet drumbeat echoing his own anticipation. Then, at last, the door creaked open.
She entered.
Pandora.
Just as he had seen her before, she wore her white veil, the sheer fabric obscuring her features, leaving only the faint outline of her face hidden in shadow. The door closed gently behind her, sealing them in together, and though she moved with the grace of a goddess, her very presence made the air turn heavy.
Nathan’s lungs tightened. It wasn’t re imagination—her aura itself pressed against his chest like an invisible hand threatening to crush his heart. Even breathing the sa air as her felt dangerous, like drawing in smoke that seared the lungs.
But through it all, Nathan could also sense Athena lingering outside. Her presence hovered faint and watchful, a silent sentinel ready to strike if Pandora’s aura turned lethal. That was a small relief—yet one Nathan dared not rely on.
Pandora’s voice finally broke the silence. It was calm, unnervingly calm, and carried a strange weight, as though the sound of it resonated deeper than just the ears."Athena told to speak to you."
Nathan did not reply. He only watched her from behind steady eyes.
Her head tilted slightly. "I saw you at the tournant. Why did you refuse to kill them?" she asked, her tone flat but probing. She ant the combatants Nathan had spared, n who had tried to cut him down yet left the arena alive because of his choice.
Nathan allowed himself a small exhale. "I suppose I disappointed you that day."
"Indeed," Pandora said, her veil shifting slightly as she nodded. "Having pity for people who want to kill you is... stupid."
Her words cut with absolute conviction, no room for argunt. And Nathan, in truth, could not fully disagree. Still, he had his own reasons, reasons she might never understand.
Sitting across from her now, beneath the veil of her suffocating darkness, Nathan felt a question rise within him. Dangerous, reckless, but irresistible.
"Tell ... did Epitheus try to kill you as well?"
The words left his lips like a blade thrown in the dark.
Athena, outside, nearly stumbled at the audacity of it. Deter’s composure cracked, and Persephone froze in disbelief. That na—Epitheus—was not one spoken lightly.
For Pandora, it was the deepest wound, the mory of the brother whose death had led to her imprisonnt. It was her curse, her sha, the scar of her very existence.
Instantly, the pressure in the room surged. Nathan’s chest constricted as though a giant fist had clenched around his ribs. His vision blurred at the edges. Pain exploded inside him, sharp and unrelenting, as if his very life force was being wrung dry by the weight of her rage. His body scread for him to stop.
And yet—he did not. He barely arched a brow, forcing his composure to remain intact. His refusal to falter was his defiance.
"How about the humans?" he pressed on, his voice cutting through the suffocating pressure. "I heard half of humanity was wiped out when you wielded the Box."
Every word was a jab, deliberate and rciless, as though he had chosen to walk willingly through fire.
It would have been so easy—so terribly simple—for Pandora to kill him then. To let her aura consu him, to snuff him out like a candle fla. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
Sothing about him—his arrogance, his audacity, his refusal to bow—made it feel like killing him would not be victory, but humiliation.
Her voice ca, low and cutting. "I thought you were here to beco a man capable of entertaining to prevent from killing?"
Nathan’s lips curved into sothing between a smirk and a challenge. "Entertaining you? If you want entertainnt, go watch other mindless humans butcher each other in the arena. Or better yet, visit a circus." His tone turned sharp, unyielding. "I am not here to dance for your amusent. I am here to make sure you don’t lose your mind stupidly."
Outside, Athena and Deter felt sweat prickle across their foreheads. Persephone stood frozen in place, unable to believe the mortal dared speak this way.
Nathan rose slowly from his chair, his movents calm but deliberate. His gaze locked on Pandora. "But if it’s true entertainnt you seek, then co tonight. Watch the second round of the gladiator tournant—not the other fools, but ."
The silence that followed was thick, crackling with tension. Then Nathan reached toward a vase on the table, plucking a single violet flower that Deter herself had arranged. With steady fingers, he reached toward Pandora. Gently, almost intimately, he lifted the edge of her veil—just slightly, not enough to reveal her face. He slid the flower behind her ear, letting it rest in her hair.
She had not moved the entire ti, her body as still as carved marble. But Nathan could feel her eyes beneath the veil, tracking his every motion, burning into him.
And then, just as suddenly as it had co, the crushing pressure in his chest ebbed away. Her aura receded, calm returning to the air.
"Then I hope to see you tonight, Pandora," Nathan said at last with a small quiet amused smile that looked like a charming smile becasue of Aphrodite’s passive skill inside him.
With that, he turned and walked to the door, leaving the house behind him.
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