Saint Demin Arena.
The sun climbed to its zenith, bathing the elliptical arena in golden light. The stands were packed, and the crowd's cheers and roars of anticipation converged into a tidal wave of sound that crashed against the arena's ancient stone walls.
The atmosphere in the Gladiatorial Arena was electric, so tense it felt as if the very air was trembling.
Vendors weaved through the seats, hawking wine and delicacies, their cries mingling with the shouts of the audience.
All of Gonda's most famous painters had been given the best seats, a perfect vantage point overlooking the entire battlefield. This would allow them to render the scene that was about to unfold onto their canvases.
They all knew that as long as their work wasn't a complete disaster, it would be immortalized. This was their chance to become legendary painters, recorded in the annals of history, their fame enduring for a thousand years.
