The volu of the Colosseum died down quickly as it got late. By the ti it hit 9 pm, most of the people had left to go ho since the railway system stops at 10.
The four of them stepped into the plaza beyond the stadium, where the city opened wide with pillars lining the walkways, banners fluttering overhead, and statues towering like frozen gods. Massive figures carved from pale stone, each one bearing a na etched deep at its base.
Kieran slowed first.
Everyone else followed without thinking.
At the centre stood the largest statue of them all.
A man, sword planted tip-first into the ground, one hand resting atop the poml. His posture wasn’t proud or aggressive. It was calm. Certain. A crown of carved laurel rested on his brow, worn not like a trophy, but like a burden he’d long since accepted.
ADAM, THE FIRST CHAMPION OF THE TOURNANT OF RIGHT.
“Fifty years ago,” Brock muttered. “Still standing like he just won yesterday.”
Tanaka tilted his head. “He doesn’t look happy.”
Roy noticed that too.
Adam’s face wasn’t triumphant. There was no grin, no arrogance frozen into the stone. Just… awareness. As if he knew exactly what winning would cost him.
“The first winner,” Kieran said quietly. “The one who set the standard.”
Roy crossed his arms. “Funny na choice.”
Brock blinked. "Huh?"
“Adam,” Roy continued. “First man. First winner. First to be crowned strongest.” He glanced up at the statue’s eyes. “Sa myth, different story.”
Tanaka frowned. “You think that was intentional?”
“Of course it was,” Roy replied. “People love patterns. Makes the world feel planned instead of random.”
Kieran stared at the statue a mont longer. “If he was the first… then everyone after him was just chasing an idea.”
“Yeah,” Brock said. “And half of them probably broke trying.”
Roy exhaled through his nose. “God makes Adam. The tournant makes Adam. Either way, the first one never really gets a choice, do they?”
Silence lingered for a beat.
Then Brock clapped his hands together. “Alright! Philosophical crisis later. Kieran just punched his ticket into the semi-finals.”
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Tanaka nodded eagerly. “Drinks
“Drinks”, Kieran agreed.
Roy smirked. “Say no more.”
But as they walked towards the bar, sothing was on Roy’s mind. No, soone. He looked around while they walked to see if she would be here.
She wasn’t.
The bar was packed, loud, and slt like sweat, alcohol, and victory. The kind of place that existed solely to celebrate survival.
They sat at the front bar and got their shots, raspberry starburst; it was glowing blue and faintly white at the sa ti, and they drank simultaneously.
That was when that happened.
A woman passed behind them, slow and confident, with so body parts that looked slightly inflated, like a balloon, and all you could say about it was that it was eye-catching.
But slightly srising at the sa ti.
While it all flailed around, even when you tried to look away, it had a magnetic field that attracted everyone's eyes toward her.
And without any words being said, all four of them leaned back at the sa ti.
It was all perfectly synchronised.
Their necks leaned while their eyes followed each jiggle. A brief, reverent silence followed as she disappeared.
Then they all leaned forward again, and no one spoke. Then the three of them look over at Roy, who drank another shot that he asked for.
And he pulled the perfect hand sign, and then all of them nodded and drank another shot simultaneously.
Roy broke first. “That was pathetic.”
Brock nodded. “Absolutely.”
Tanaka sighed. “I regret nothing.”
Kieran cleared his throat and took another drink.
Roy shook his head, then paused.
Soone at the bar caught his eye.
Tall. Blond hair tied loosely back. The coat was half-draped over the stool, like he didn’t care if it fell. A familiar posture relaxed in a way that only ca from knowing no one in the room was a threat.
Lucian.
Roy stood. “I’ll be back.”
Lucian noticed him before he even reached the counter.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Lucian said, not turning around.
Roy slid onto the stool beside him. “Well, the idea was just brought up in a matter of seconds.”
Lucian smirked, lifting his glass. “Your friend fought well.”
“He did fight well, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” Lucian replied calmly. “That usually counts.”
Roy glanced at the glass. “Celebrating or coping?”
Lucian considered. “Celebrating
Roy snorted. “You’re terrible at pretending you don’t care.”
Lucian finally looked at him. “And you’re terrible at pretending you do.”
They shared a brief, knowing silence.
From across the bar, Brock shouted sothing incoherent involving Kieran’s na and free drinks.
Roy glanced back, then returned his gaze to Lucian. “Do you ever regret paying to lose to you?”
Lucian gave it so ti before answering.
Lucian nodded. “I think I do regret paying you that 10K now that I am thinking about it.”
Roy smiled thinly. “Good.”
Sowhere behind them, laughter erupted.
The night was young.
And none of them realised yet,
All of a sudden, Kieran’s phone vibrated loudly. He slowly pulled it out and saw his older sister's na. He swiped right to answer the phone call and put it to his ear.
And his face went confused.
“You want to et Roy?” he blurted out.
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