The arena was ready, but Lukas hadn’t stepped in yet.

  The crowd shouted his name, but behind the stage, the pressure was something else entirely.

  Dariam was the first to approach — a smile of poison, eyes like blades.

  “It’ll be fun watching Akemi fold you in front of everyone,” he whispered.

  “Don’t forget to smile when you kiss the ground, little chocolate.”

  Lukas clenched his fists but said nothing.

  César roared inside his mind:

  Let me out, boy, I’ll make him swallow his teeth right now!

  Morgana, on the other hand, purred:

  No, sugar… let him spit venom. The more he talks, the more the people love you.

  Before Dariam could continue, Leli stepped in front of him, eyes blazing.

  “Go get them, Chocolate!” she said — and before Lukas could protest, she threw her arms around him in a quick hug.

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  “Good luck, brother. I know you’ll win.”

  Lukas turned red all the way to his ears.

  “Leli… mercy.”

  Dariam snorted, furious at the scene, and stormed off, kicking a stone along the way.

  Soon after, Luiz arrived. Unlike Dariam’s venom, his gaze was serious — sharp and steady.

  “You have to win, Lukas. Not just for yourself. For the name of the Main House.”

  He placed a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder.

  “If you fall, stand up. If you lose, I’ll beat you up later.”

  Lukas let out a nervous laugh.

  “Great motivation… thanks.”

  Then Besouro showed up, smiling wide, training staff resting on his shoulder.

  “Hey, cousin… breathe.”

  He tapped his closed fist against his chest.

  “Remember — we never fight alone. The people are with you. I’m with you.”

  Lukas looked up.

  “And if I fall?”

  “Then you get back up.” Besouro laughed.

  “’Cause that’s what we do.”

  Little by little, the sound of the crowd grew louder.

  The chant of “Chocolate! Chocolate!” beat like war drums.

  Lukas took a deep breath.

  This isn’t just another fight. This is the weight of the clan. The eyes of the people. My chance to prove I’m not the failure in this story.

  And when the guards called his name, he stepped toward the circle — heart pounding in rhythm with the city’s roar.

  “Lukas Fernandes!”

  The plaza trembled.

  ? End of Chapter 15