“Contestant number five, Nareen, versus contestant number eight, Kaeren!”

“This is the most dangerous fight,” said Noen. “Yes, both of them can bring down an opponent without even touching,” Xiara replied. “Do you think they’re hiding some of their skills like Lyemo did? Even though Lyemo was so cautious, hiding his ability to create an arena with his ink, he still lost,” Noen asked Raven. “Maybe they also have plans to conceal their skills,” Raven answered casually.

The referee raised his hand. “Get ready!”

“Release the seal rings!”

“Begin!”

Nareen immediately pulled white threads from her hand, weaving a net around herself. Kaeren remained silent, his eyes sharp, his body unmoving.

The crowd grew loud. “Come on, Kaeren! Shout at her!” “Nareen, pull the threads! Make him falter!”

Nareen hurled a thread toward Kaeren. Kaeren dodged lightly, then opened his mouth.

The first ultrasonic wave struck. It was inaudible, but the air vibrated. Nareen staggered, her threads trembling in the air.

But she stayed upright. She drew another thread, thinner, sharper. It shot forward and touched Kaeren’s shoulder. When pulled, another thread emerged from Kaeren.

“‘You fear that voice will kill you, just like it did to your family,’” Nareen whispered.

Kaeren froze for a moment. His eyes blinked rapidly. But he closed them, then opened his mouth again.

The second wave was stronger. Nareen bent low, pulling another thread, trying to reach Kaeren again.

Kaeren leapt backward, then unleashed a third scream—sharper, more painful, deeper.

Nareen was hurled back, nearly crashing to the floor, but she hadn’t touched it completely. She held herself up with threads anchored to the arena pillars.

The crowd roared. “She hasn’t fallen yet!” “Unbelievable, she’s hanging herself with threads!” “Kaeren has to scream again!”

Kaeren stood, watching Nareen leap toward him with threads, his breathing heavy. He opened his mouth for the fourth time.

But Nareen had already thrown a thread toward Kaeren’s chest. The thread touched his skin, and Nareen pulled another thread out.

“‘You fear others will discover you once killed someone with that voice,’” Nareen said, shocked herself, losing balance and falling.

Kaeren froze. His body trembled. He closed his mouth, lowering his head.

The audience was stunned. Some held their breath. Silence filled the arena.

Noen whispered, holding his breath. “That... was too deep.” Xiara could only remain silent.

Kaeren stood motionless. Nareen rose slowly, her body still shaking. She had already lost by falling.

But Kaeren suddenly opened his mouth again.

The fifth wave. The strongest. The air shook violently. Nareen was hurled far back, out of the arena, her threads snapping.

She fell.

The referee raised his hand. “Hey, she had already lost,” but the announcer still had to declare the result, even in shock. “Well then... contestant down! Winner: Kaeren!”

The crowd rose to their feet. Some clapped, others remained silent.

“He won... but at what cost,” murmured Noen. “This fight... wasn’t just physical. It was about old wounds,” Xiara replied.

Raven, with a calm gaze, added, “Story power... these are the wounds unseen by those who desire it.”

Perhaps it was the quietest victory in the history of this tournament.

Even the announcer seemed awkward in trying to liven up the event. “Yes... this is Kaeren’s spectacular victory,” he said, carefully choosing words so as not to hurt further.

Kaeren walked back to the waiting room in silence, his head lowered. There was no longer any roar of applause from the crowd.