In the wake of an unprecedented bullfight, the spectacle had come to a chilling conclusion. Diego the Great, a revered matador known across the land, had boldly mirrored the trials of the bull he fought. Each banderilla embedded into his flesh matching those of the beast, enduring every jab from the picador in a horrifying dance of symmetry. Their duel reached a fatal crescendo, with man and beast collapsing in tandem, their lives extinguished simultaneously.
A collective gasp echoed from the horrified audience, their hunger for spectacle remained unsatisfied despite the spectacle’s dreadful end. It was then, amidst the stunned silence, another master bullfighter, Belmonte, stepped forward. He audaciously proclaimed he’d answer this unquenchable thirst for thrill, taking the challenge to an unprecedented level – not with a bull, but with a lion. Belmonte announced that this was the test of courage that even the great Diego fell short of – a face-off with an apex predator.
However, Belmonte failed to comprehend the full weight of his bold assertion. A lion was not a mere beast to be trifled with in a spectacle. The harsh reality came crashing down when the man tasked with inserting the banderillas was swatted away effortlessly by the swift lion’s paw. The picador, upon entering the arena on horseback, was met with the lion’s ferocity. The horse was struck down, and the picador narrowly fled, leaving Belmonte alone in the deadly field of valor.
With an unwavering resolute posture, the brave Belmonte, his slim body draped in the illustrious matador’s cape, stood before the lion. He brandished his cloth with flamboyance, attempting to provoke the beast. But the lion stood still, its golden eyes locked onto its prey. Unfazed, Belmonte tried again, stamping his feet in a futile effort to provoke the beast. The arena held its breath as the lion sprang into action, charging Belmonte like a streak of golden lightning.
Belmonte waved his cloth, expecting the lion to be deceived like a bull. But the lion was no bull – it leapt onto Belmonte, ripping his head off in a brutal display of raw power. The man who dared to elevate the spectacle was dealt a swift and ruthless end.
His final words echoed in the silent arena, “You don’t know how to behave like a bull, therefore this does not count.” But the crowd knew otherwise – Belmonte’s bravado had overstepped the bounds of reason, and the price was a tragic, unmitigated demonstration of nature’s unforgiving power. A chilling reminder that spectacle has its limits, and some boundaries should never be crossed.