The door slammed shut behind Vergil.
The silence inside the waiting room lasted only a few seconds—dense, suffocating seconds—before being torn apart by an amplified laugh that echoed throughout the coliseum.
"ATTENTION, WONDERFULLY DISPOSABLE CREATURES!"
Loki's voice exploded through the stadium skies, amplified by Norse magic and sheer showmanship. Gigantic illusions of his face appeared above the Labyrinth of Daedalus, each with a different expression: one laughing, another winking, another feigning dramatic tears.
Inside the room, everyone looked up.
Even Vergil.
Loki spun in the air above the labyrinth, his green cloak billowing, his smile too wide for someone who had been pierced by a divine spear just minutes before.
"After an absolutely thrilling, bloody, and slightly traumatic FIRST PHASE for some participants—cough cough eliminated cough—we've arrived at our beloved, adored, absolutely not deadly SECOND PHASE!"
The Labyrinth of Daedalus below him gleamed.
