The arena still felt strangely silent after Kaeren’s victory. Some spectators remained standing, unsure whether to applaud or stay quiet. Others whispered softly, as if afraid to disturb the heavy air.

“This silence... it feels heavier than the fight itself,” Noen murmured. Xiara nodded slowly. “The wounds just revealed... they’re not something the audience can cheer for.” Raven leaned back, his eyes calm. “This silence is part of the story too. Maybe... maybe it’ll even help him rise in the tier of narrative power.”

The big screen replayed Kaeren’s final scream, but no one laughed or cheered. Instead, many bowed their heads. Some covered their mouths. Others simply stared at the arena floor. Even the children who had cheered earlier were now quiet, holding their banners without waving them.

Some spectators began leaving their seats—not out of boredom, but to get some air. A few sat on the stairways, others stood in the aisles, staring at the screen with blank expressions. A mother hugged her child tightly as the child asked in a whisper, “What’s happening?”

In the judges’ booth, the silence was no less heavy.

The announcer stood still for a moment, gripping the microphone tightly. He forced a smile, his voice slightly trembling. “Ladies and gentlemen... we will now take a short break before the grand final begins.”

He paused, searching for words that wouldn’t deepen the wound. “The semifinal match just now... was truly unforgettable. Please use this time to let the participants prepare themselves. The final match will be announced shortly.”

The audience responded with scattered applause, but most remained somber. The arena lights dimmed slightly, signaling the official intermission. The usual cheerful background music was replaced with silence.

Kaeren walked quietly into the waiting room, his head bowed.

There were no cheers. No applause. Only the sound of a few footsteps brushing against the floor.

Ircos had been sitting in the waiting room for a while, glancing briefly at Kaeren. He said nothing as Kaeren entered. Kaeren didn’t look back either. He sat in a corner and closed his eyes.

Noen stared at the contestant screen. “The final... might be a silent match.” Xiara only sighed.

Raven gave a faint smile. “Maybe I do regret not forcing Noen to compete,” he thought to himself.

Up in the commentator’s booth, the analysts tried to fill the silence with discussion. “We saw how thread can reveal trauma, and how a voice can be both weapon and curse.” “In the final, Ircos might have the upper hand—Kaeren’s mind is still shaken.”

In the medical room, Nareen was being examined. Her body trembled, but she gave a small smile. “I’m okay,” she said. “My thread... I know... I touched something important.”

The doctor nodded, slightly dizzy from everything that had happened. This incident had shaken the trauma of Nareen’s childhood—how revealing the truth had once destroyed her family. “It’s not your fault,” the doctor said. “You didn’t know that the truth would come out from your thread.”

Outside the arena, some spectators gathered to talk about the match. Yes, the conversation had spilled beyond the stadium walls. “I didn’t expect this tournament to be this heavy.” “I thought it was just about skills. Turns out... it’s about trauma too.”

The announcer reappeared on the screen, his tone calmer now. “Thank you for your patience, everyone. The final will begin in five minutes.” “The last match: Ircos versus Kaeren. Two powers that speak without words.”

The audience began returning to their seats. But no one cheered. They simply sat, waiting. Waiting for the end of a story that had already gone too deep to be called just another silent tournament.