Capítulo 87: Leader of The faithless men

Alan's grip tightened around Zarot's massive blade, his fingers curling with deliberate precision as though he were handling something other than a weapon meant to cleave him in two. His expression remained calm, eerily so. 

His eyes, reflecting the harsh sunlight, bore into Zarot's in an unsettling way—like a trained soldier looking down at his enemy before he offers death, except it was Alan's hand around the sword, he was the one who stood before a murderous attack, not the other way around.

The crowd, who moments ago had cheered for blood, now fell into a hush. 

Their eyes darted from Zarot's hulking figure, still frozen in disbelief, to the leaner form of Alan, whose hand held Zarot's monstrous sword still. The silence of the colosseum was unnerving, hanging like a cloud, they all anticipated the next move.