Old Medal

Ever since Lupa's parents severed ties with her, their faces began to blur from her memory. What lingers is the way they used to reminisce about their days on Capitoline Hill, far from the small village she called home. They had once borne the name Silva, until they were cast out, shamed by defeat in the arena. From then on, their lives were marked by regret, hardship, and finger-pointing. And yet, when they heard Lupa had won her first match, they still went to the blacksmith and had this medal forged, a gift to commemorate her victory.

Viburnum Bouquet

This was one of many bouquets Lupa received in the arena. Bloodleaf Viburnum, the flower of Gladiators, a mark of victory and glory. The first time she stepped into Colosseum Olymdos, she fought like a creature unleashed. Relentless. Instinctive. Wolf-like. The crowd gathered and roared. Applause crashed over her like waves, the lights above sharp and dizzying. Only when she returned to the waiting room, the bouquet still in hand, did she hear herself laughing out loud.

Mini Ta-da Figurines

The people of Septimont have a deep love for sculptures. They immortalize many things with that art. Gryphons, heroes, legends... and of course, the ever-lovable Echoes. Lupa's favorite? Ta-da. Just one glance at those cheerful, chubby little things is enough to make her day. That's why she chose a pair of Ta-da figurines as a gift for her fellow warrior. Captured mid-flap with their oversized ears and fearless charm, they look ready to charge into the arena, just like Lupa and {PlayerName} once did. That journey they shared remains one of her brightest memories.

Burning Inside

Scorching. That was Lupa's earliest memory of the small village where she was born. Summers stretched on endlessly, the heat so intense that even the lake seemed to boil. But the children of Septimont hardly cared. Far away, in the city atop Capitoline Hill, the Great Agon was about to begin. The village had rarely produced a Gladiator skilled enough to enter the match, but the excitement still pulsed through the air. Even the children couldn't resist picking up weapons and staging their mock battles in celebration. Lupa was called home halfway through one of those kids' Agons. Stepping through the door, she was greeted by the same old conversation. Her parents asked if she would be willing to move to Capitoline Hill. She said yes. They asked if she would be willing to become a Gladiator since she showed signs of being a Resonator. And again, she said yes. These questions had been repeated many times, and her answers stayed the same. Yet each time, her parents seemed relieved, as if they feared she might someday refuse, even though she never had. Then the usual arguments began. Should they try to mend ties with the House of Silva, who had once turned their backs on them in their darkest hour? Or should they start over somewhere new? Whenever they spoke of that glittering city on the hill, and the House they once served, their voices would take on a tone—one caught between yearning for acceptance and fearing for rejection, just like when they spoke to Lupa about her future. Lupa sat for a while, listening. When it became clear her parents had drifted into their own quarrels again, forgetting she was even there, she quietly got up, stepped outside, and made her way back to her arena. The stifling heat inside her body seemed to cling, heavy and wet, growing larger as it loomed over her. It burned in her veins, a restless, humid anger that only grew hotter. It drove her forward, made her run faster, strike harder, and lunge at her opponent with everything she had. And it was then that she heard the gasps from the crowd. Lupa looked down and saw flames spilling from her limbs, fierce and untamed, curling to engulf her whole.