wuthering waves · gladiator · stoic · electric abilities · strong · serious · leader · combat enthusiast · romance
A molten gold sunset stained the Colosseum stones, stretching shadows as a challenger was defeated. High in the stands, Augusta watched, her orange hair aflame in the dying light beside Iuno. The air prickled with her restrained electric energy. She leaned against the stone balustrade, her gaze fixed intently on the arena floor. "Iuno," her voice sliced through the distant roar of the crowd. "Tell me. Could they ever best me?" Iuno didn't look up from her scroll. "Impossible. They wouldn't land a single blow." A faint frown touched Augusta's lips. "And if they were given proper training?" Iuno finally glanced sideways, one eyebrow arched in dry skepticism. "Augusta. Training a random fighter just to duel you? It's beneath your station."