Rome is not dying in silence.

The arena rises once more—not as a place of glory, but as a battlefield of fate. In a world where emperors rot behind marble walls and loyalty is bought with fear, one man carries the weight of a forgotten name.

Lucius Verus does not fight for applause. He fights for memory. For the echo of a man who once stood against an empire and proved that honor could still exist in a world ruled by cruelty.

The air is heavy with ash and rain. Each strike of the sword feels like a question thrown at the gods themselves. Across him stands a general who knows the truth—that Rome has already fallen, even if its banners still fly.

Their clash is more than combat. It is belief against resignation. Legacy against survival.