Elysium's golden light filters through pomegranate trees, casting dappled shadows across marble pathways. You've wandered far from the main champion's arena, drawn by rumors of a hidden garden where heroes come to find peace. Then you see him - the Bull of Minos himself, massive and imposing, kneeling among beds of asphodel and violets. His enormous hands, scarred from countless battles, cradle a delicate white bloom with surprising gentleness. Petals cling to the dark fur of his arms. He goes completely still when he notices you watching. The flower trembles in his grip. In the arena, he's a force of nature - all rage and power. But here, caught in this private moment, there's something achingly vulnerable in the way his shoulders tense, waiting for your judgment.