Michael's gaze locked on the illusion panel.
In another waiting room, Prince Rui straightened, eyes glowing faintly. He brushed a loose strand of black hair behind his ear.
Renn Noah's calm expression finally shifted too.
Uga blinked lazily. Then returned to staring at the wall. He'd know if something concerned him—once it called him to the stage.
"These four," the commentator went on, "are the reason the tournament took a different path. The reason the council was forced to rethink everything."
The audience leaned forward.
"Power," the commentator said simply. "Overwhelming power."
"And now, these four will fight. They will show us why their presence shook the scales of this competition."
"The first match will be between—"
RENN NOAH vs PRINCE RUI
Michael remembered the youth.
Putting aside his personality, the wooden sword he wielded was unforgettable.
But while he recognized Renn, the other name caught him off guard.
"Hm… could he be the real candidate the Duke wants to win this competition?"
Michael couldn't help but suspect it.
Also, though he wasn't entirely sure yet, the commentator's words painted a picture. From what had been said—and more importantly, what hadn't—Michael could guess that the competition, which should have stretched longer, had been abruptly cut short.
And he could guess why.
People like him had changed the landscape too drastically. His earlier display alone must have thrown the whole bracket into chaos.
The officials likely didn't want to drag out a competition whose ending was already clear.
Why waste everyone's time when only a handful had the strength to stand at the top?
"Renn, this Prince Rui… me… and who else?"
The image of a bear-like youth flashed in Michael's mind.
That brute was strong. No question. But was he the fourth?
Even as he mulled it over, his eyes didn't stray from the illusion display.
Back in Group C's waiting room…
Renn and Prince Rui stood up at the same time.
The motion was subtle, but the tension that followed was anything but. Both youths turned their heads slightly, their gazes locking for the first time not as spectators or strangers, but as opponents.
Renn's fingers instinctively curled around the hilt of his wooden sword.
He was one stage away from the next ladder.
His family's dream—the Noah dream—was within reach. But now, standing across from him, was not just any opponent.
Renn's grip tightened.
If it had been a kingdom youth—even a noble from a high house—he wouldn't have hesitated. But this? This wasn't just some noble's son.
This was Prince Rui, a scion of the Black Serpent Empire.
He was just a baron's third son.
An insignificant name on a land barely worth defending.
For a moment, doubt stirred.
Was this really possible?
Could he, Renn Noah, stand against the weight of an empire?
But just as those thoughts began to deepen—just as the fear started to thread its way into his resolve—Prince Rui's voice cut through the air.
"I would advise you," Rui said calmly, his tone bordering on cold courtesy, "to give up."
"Show me face," Rui added, voice still soft but bearing a weight that could crush pride. "There's no shame in knowing your limit.
Then he turned and walked out of the room.
No threats. No mockery. Just… superiority. The kind that didn't need to be explained.
Renn remained frozen for a breath longer, staring at the spot where Rui had stood.
Then the commentator's voice rang out through the illusion.
"Prince Rui has entered the arena! Now we await his opponent… Renn Noah!"
The crowd roared at the name. Some out of excitement. Others simply to fill the silence.
But the silence stretched.
From the arena, Rui stood poised, arms crossed behind his back, his long dark coat billowing faintly in the wind.
The commentator, clearly growing impatient, began to count down.
The audience grew restless.
Disappointed murmurs spread.
Boos began to rise from the crowd. Some already turning their attention away.
The crowd was losing interest—already starting to see it as a no-show. But Michael's focus wasn't on the stage anymore. It was on Renn.
Why hasn't he come out?
He didn't know the boy well, but from what little he'd seen, Renn Noah wasn't the type to back down.
Even after seeing what he could do, the youth made sure he knew he wouldn't lose.
At least to him, he wouldn't lose.
Michael leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing.
Could something have happened?
It wasn't that Michael was worried—not really. But curiosity gnawed at him. Renn's presence had left an impression, no matter how faint. There was something about that youth.
So why the hesitation?
Michael's gaze flicked back to Rui.
Just as the countdown was about to end—
The commentator grinned. "Well, well! Look who found his courage!"
Rui turned, calmly, to face his opponent. His expression hadn't changed—but his eyes narrowed just slightly.
He hadn't expected Renn to show up after all.
But what really vexed him wasn't the fact that Renn came.
It was the look on Renn's face.
Not a trace of hesitation remained.
Perhaps Renn was talking to himself.
Perhaps he was talking to the prince.
Either way, his words came soft—but sharp.
"…Nothing's going to stop me."
He took one step forward, then another.
And for the first time, a flicker of irritation crossed Prince Rui's otherwise emotionless expression.
He didn't like that look.
Didn't like that defiance.
Because in Rui's world, people like Renn were meant to kneel—or vanish.
The coliseum grew louder.
The match hadn't even begun, yet the tension had already reached a fever pitch.
And the arena was ready.