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The Eternal City shimmered under a deep orange dusk as Obsidian Saints rolled into Rome, their third stop on the world tour. The venue tonight was Teatro di Ferro—a historic Roman opera house turned cutting-edge concert hall. Gold trim lined the balcony rails, frescoes loomed above, and the crowd gathering outside was loud enough to rattle glass.
Rex stood silently at the edge of the stage, gazing out through the curtain slit at the mass of metalheads pressing closer to the barriers. His fingers itched with anticipation, but it wasn't just the usual pre-show buzz.
Tonight, he was going to try something new. Something dangerous.
The Wrath of the Saints.
Unlocked only recently through the Legendary Rockstar System, it wasn't a pedal or effect board—this was supernatural. The description had been brief: "A devastating burst of auditory and visual force. Use sparingly. Once triggered, it cannot be undone."
He hadn't told the others. How could he? They wouldn't believe it, even after everything. But Rex had a feeling… tonight, this crowd needed fire.
"Yo, Rex," Kai called from behind, tuning his bass. "You good?"
"Yeah," Rex nodded, strapping on his guitar. "Just soaking it in."
Ash smirked, adjusting his amp. "Rome's got a vibe. Let's give 'em something biblical."
Biblical, indeed.
Backstage dimmed as the stage crew gave the five-minute warning. Silas slammed a warm-up roll on his snare, calm and focused. The crowd's chant rose to a fever pitch:
"SAINTS! SAINTS! SAINTS!"
The lights cut to black. The silence that followed hit like a vacuum. Rex stepped into the center of the stage. A single spotlight landed on him.
And he let the first chord of "Ride the Lightning" rip like a scream into the night.
The crowd exploded.
Ash's guitar screamed beside him, Kai thundered into rhythm, and Silas pounded out a vicious war beat. The energy was already electric—but Rex felt the pressure building behind his ribcage. The System pulsed in the back of his mind.
[Wrath of the Saints: READY]
He waited, testing the atmosphere.
The third song in, "Ace of Spades," was underway and the crowd was a violent sea. People were losing their minds—but Rex needed it to reach that level.
Then, during the breakdown, something shifted.
The crowd wasn't just reacting—they were begging. Begging to be broken. Rome was ready.
Rex bit down hard on his lip and gave the mental command.
[Activate: Wrath of the Saints]
He struck the opening chords of "Spit Out the Bone."
At once, everything changed.
The air vibrated. A sonic boom masked in pure sound rolled across the venue like a wave crashing into stone. Lights burst into chaotic patterns, strobing in sync with every snare crack. The bass hit so deep it rattled bones. Silas looked momentarily stunned, glancing at his kit like it was possessed. Ash instinctively took a step back, eyes wide—but kept playing.
Kai grinned maniacally. "What the HELL is happening?!"
They didn't understand. Not fully.
But Rex did.
This was the Wrath.
The crowd was screaming, moshing, crying, some just standing frozen in awe. Phones flew into the air, forgotten. The venue's visual system synced up to an ethereal flame motif across the walls and ceiling, a divine inferno dancing over the entire opera house.
Backstage, staff and managers had gathered by the side curtains, mouths agape.
By the time "Spit Out the Bone" ended, there was a moment of absolute silence.
Then—detonation.
The loudest, most visceral reaction the band had ever received. Chanting. Howling. Screaming. One man fainted against the barricade. A woman clutched her chest like she'd been born again.
And Rex stood in the middle of it, breathing hard, guitar hanging low.
No one knew what had really happened.
But the Saints had delivered Wrath upon Rome.
And the city would never forget.