The upper stands of the Colosseum were not made for mortals.
There, above the tiers where the common public shouted, bet, and raged, were boxes suspended on platforms of light, held together by laws that did not belong to ordinary physics. The air was denser, charged with divine presence. The projections of the labyrinth floated like liquid mirrors before the elevated thrones.
On one of these platforms, two figures observed the tournant with a silence that was not distraction—it was analysis.
Shiva sat relaxed, one leg bent under his body, the other dangling slightly over the void. His half-closed eyes reflected the images of the labyrinth as if each blue cut of Vergil were just another predictable detail within a larger cycle. The drum rested beside him, motionless, as if the very rhythm of the universe had decided to wait.
Next to him, leaning less restrainedly, was Kali. Unlike Shiva’s controlled serenity, there was tension in her posture—not anxiety, but intensity. Her eyes followed the projections with predatory attention, as if she were less interested in the spectacle and more in the essence behind the competitors.
Below them, another wall of the labyrinth split in two under the precise cut of the Yamato.
Kali tilted her head slightly.
"He’s not playing anymore."
Shiva exhaled slightly through her nose, almost a laugh.
"He never was."
The images rearranged themselves. In another sector, Angelo walked down a dark corridor, his movents too economical, almost artificial. And in another distant point, Alice remained seated in the hand of her golem, observing the glass ceiling as if she were in a garden and not in an extermination camp.
Kali crossed her arms.
"My expectations were high for this tournant," she said, her deep voice, laden with a calm that precedes storms. "But I must admit... the final selection turned out more interesting than I imagined."
Shiva opened her eyes completely this ti.
"Currently," he began, observing the three main projections floating before them, "there are only three presences here that can be considered truly powerful."
He raised three fingers, without theatricality.
"And, most likely, the three finalists."
Kali nodded without hesitation.
"Vergil."
In the projection, another section of the labyrinth collapsed under an invisible cut.
"Angelo."
The image changed. The competitor walked among traps that simply didn’t touch him, as if sothing around him was... calculating.
"And that little girl."
Alice slowly twirled her finger in the air, compacting two magma creatures into small spheres before launching them against the wall with almost childlike indifference.
Shiva tilted his head slightly.
"They will probably be the last ones in the arena."
Kali was silent for a few seconds before speaking again.
"Alice is strong."
The statent carried no doubt.
"But she has no experience."
Shiva didn’t disagree.
"Refined brute force since birth," he comnted. "Absurd control. Sharp instinct."
He observed Alice for another mont.
"But experience is another matter."
Kali uncrossed her arms.
"She will be eliminated."
There was no cruelty in the statent. Just an observation.
"If the final confrontation is between minds that have already fought real wars... she won’t have the sa field reading."
Shiva turned his gaze to Vergil’s projection.
"Then the top must be between these two."
Kali followed his gaze.
Vergil advanced in a straight line through what had previously been a complex containnt system.
Elsewhere, Angelo stopped before a creature from the labyrinth that hesitated for a second before simply collapsing, as if it had received an invisible order to cease function.
Kali frowned slightly.
"Angelo..."
She let the na hang in the air.
"It’s sothing we still don’t understand."
Shiva didn’t respond imdiately.
He simply observed.
"It’s not the strength that bothers ," Kali continued. "It’s the absence of pattern."
She closed her eyes for a brief mont, as if trying to sense sothing beyond the visual projection.
"I have a bad feeling." Shiva nodded slowly.
"That..." he murmured.
His eyes fixed on the magnified image of Angelo.
"It’s not even an automaton."
Kali opened her eyes again.
"I know."
"It’s pretending."
The word fell heavily between them.
The projection showed Angelo turning his face slightly upward, as if for a mont he had sensed he was being watched. His eyes had no chanical glint. Nor real emptiness.
They had too much depth.
Kali tilted her head.
"But I still don’t know what it is."
Shiva rested his elbow on his knee, his gaze distant.
"A body that carries multiple signatures."
"Yes."
"But none of them dominant."
Kali squeezed her fingers lightly, as if she were holding sothing back.
"It’s as if sothing is organizing it from within. Not like a machine. Not like a soul. But like..."
She didn’t finish.
Shiva completed in a low voice:
"Like an observer."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable.
Below, another blue explosion swept through the labyrinth. Part of the audience booed Loki again, whose exaggerated projections attempted to maintain narrative control of the structural disaster.
Kali ignored the noise.
"If it’s what I’m thinking..."
Shiva didn’t need to ask.
He already knew she wouldn’t speak the hypothesis aloud.
Before either of them could continue, a subtle change occurred in the environnt.
Not in the labyrinth.
In the VIP box.
The temperature didn’t drop.
It didn’t rise.
But the surrounding light seed to adjust.
The energy shifted its spectrum.
Shiva didn’t turn around.
It wasn’t necessary.
He sensed it even before the presence crossed the edge of the platform.
The door of light behind them opened silently.
Soft footsteps echoed.
Kali was the first to move her eyes, but not her body.
A female figure crossed the threshold with an erect posture, firm steps, and a presence that needed no announcent. Her dark hair fell like silk, and the aura around her was different from the other deities present in the Colosseum—more concentrated, more solar, yet contained.
Shiva remained gazing at the projections.
"What brings you here..." he said, his voice calm, almost bored. A short pause. "...Amaterasu."
Her presence didn’t need to announce itself twice.
Amaterasu stopped a few steps behind them, the brightness around her didn’t dazzle—it revealed. It wasn’t the light of heat. It was the light of clarity.
"I ca to discuss sothing with the God of Destruction."
Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Shiva raised an eyebrow slightly, but didn’t turn around.
"God of Destruction is an exaggerated title," he replied with calculated disinterest. "And I have no interest in discussions outside the spectacle."
Beside him, Kali kept her eyes fixed on the labyrinth projections, but her attention was no longer solely there.
Amaterasu walked to the edge of the platform, observing for a second the image of Virgil advancing towards the center.
"Are you sure?"
Shiva let out a low sigh.
"Absolutely."
There was a brief silence.
Then Amaterasu spoke a single word.
Not in Japanese.
Not in Sanskrit.
An older language.
Predating organized pantheons.
Predating divisions.
The word sounded like a whisper traversing ages:
"&!%@&$!@$!@$."
The effect was imdiate.
Shiva turned.
Not slowly.
Not elegantly.
Abruptly.
His eyes, which had previously reflected only analytical boredom, opened unusually. Not in fury—but in alertness.
The air around the platform grew heavy.
The drum beside him vibrated on its own, emitting a deep, resonant sound, like the first echo of a universe being born—or dying.
Shiva’s aura began to escape in visible threads, blue and white energy coiling around his shoulders like serpents of forcibly restrained light.
Kali moved her eyes to him for the first ti since Amaterasu had entered.
"What do you know?" Shiva asked.
The voice was no longer relaxed.
No longer indifferent.
There was sothing beneath it. Sothing ancient.
Amaterasu showed no surprise at the reaction.
"I know enough."
Shiva’s aura increased slightly, cracking the luminous surface of the platform beneath his feet a little more. Deities further away in the upper box began to look in their direction, sensing the change.
"What do you know?" he repeated, now more quietly.
Amaterasu tilted her head.
"That sothing here doesn’t belong to this cycle."
Kali narrowed her eyes.
Amaterasu continued:
"And that you have also noticed."
Shiva remained silent for a few seconds.
Below, in the labyrinth, Angelo stopped in the middle of a dark corridor. For a brief mont, the runes around him failed for no apparent reason.
Vergil advanced in a straight line.
Alice observed the glass sky.
Three pieces.
But only one was out of place.
Shiva’s aura wavered again.
"The na you said," he spoke, each word heavy, "is not sothing to be used as bait."
Amaterasu stared directly at him.
"I don’t use bait."
Kali uncrossed her arms.
"Then speak."
Amaterasu shook her head.
"No."
The silence that ford was more tense than any explosion in the labyrinth below.
"I want a contract."
The energy around Shiva intensified.
"You enter my box," he said, his voice beginning to vibrate at a frequency that made the air ripple, "speak a word that shouldn’t even be rembered... and you think you can negotiate?"
Amaterasu didn’t back down.
"Yes."
The simplicity of the answer was more irritating than any provocation.
The drum beside Shiva emitted another deep, involuntary sound.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Kali watched the scene with sharp attention. She didn’t intervene. Not yet.
Amaterasu walked slowly until she was face to face with Shiva.
"That depends."
She smiled.
It wasn’t a wide smile.
It was small.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
"It depends on how much information you want."
Shiva’s aura exploded for a second—not in attack, but in raw manifestation. The platform of light cracked beneath his feet. The labyrinth projections trembled montarily.
Nearby deities instinctively recoiled.
Kali raised her hand slightly.
The energy around them stabilized before it could scatter.
Shiva kept his eyes fixed on Amaterasu. "Five minutes." Shiva spoke as he looked into Amaterasu’s eyes, "That’s the ti you have until our pantheons go to war."
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