The arena lights blazed at full brightness. The atmosphere was still heavy, but time would not wait. The final had to go on. Even the king watching from above looked moved.

“The last match!” shouted the announcer, his voice firmer than before. “Contestant number four, Ircos, versus contestant number eight, Kaeren!”

The crowd did not cheer immediately. There was a pause. As if everyone was waiting to see who would dare to make the first sound.

Kaeren stepped into the center of the arena. His head was bowed, but his steps were steady. Ircos followed, calm as always, his face expressionless, but his eyes sharp.

“Two silent fighters,” Noen muttered. Xiara nodded.

The referee raised his hand. “Get ready!”

“Release the sealing rings!”

“Begin!”

The first sound wave was unleashed. Kaeren opened his mouth, the air trembled. Ircos vanished instantly, reappearing behind Kaeren’s right side, then disappeared again before Kaeren could counter.

Kaeren remained still. He did not chase. He only stood, waiting.

Ircos appeared again, this time from above behind Kaeren. Kaeren spun his body, releasing the second sound wave. Ircos was knocked back slightly, but landed lightly. He touched the floor like a superhero landing in Noen’s terms, then vanished again.

The audience held their breath. No cheers. No shouts.

Kaeren glanced toward the stands. His face remained blank, but his eyes swept across the silent rows of spectators.

And somehow, one spectator stood and clapped. Followed by two more. Then five. Then nearly two full rows. Applause began to echo, soft but rhythmic.

“Kaeren! Kaeren!” “Ircos! Ircos!”

The cheers were not as loud as usual. But precisely because of that, they felt more sincere. The audience silently agreed: they would not let the final end in silence.

Kaeren stood taller. Ircos glanced briefly, then refocused.

The battle continued. Minute after minute. Five. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.

Both attacked and defended. Kaeren with sound waves that grew hoarser. Ircos with teleportation that grew rarer.

Kaeren stumbled forward once. But the sound wave he created held his body up. Ircos was slammed into the arena pillar once. But he still stood.

The crowd roared each time one nearly fell. But neither surrendered.

“This is what a final should be,” Xiara murmured. Noen only nodded, unsure how to comment—one wrong word could spark suspicion.

Kaeren opened his mouth for the next sound wave. The air shook violently. Ircos was hurled far, his body crashing into a pillar again.

But he did not fall. He landed on his palm, then vanished.

Kaeren staggered. The sound was becoming too strong even for him. He clutched his throat, his vision blurred with tears.

Ircos appeared behind him. This time, he attacked. His hand touched Kaeren’s shoulder, his body twisting, trying to throw him down.

Kaeren nearly fell. But he braced with his hand and crouched to lessen the impact. He opened his mouth again.

This sound wave—whatever number it was—was visibly trembling. The vibration in the air was clearer, deeper. Ircos was hurled back. This time, his body flew, slammed into another pillar, but still endured.

A bright light shone from Kaeren’s finger, where he stored the power of his Silent Howl story. The light slowly enveloped his entire body for a moment.

Everyone fell silent, knowing it was the sign of a story’s tier ascending. Then the audience erupted, louder than before.

“You said it wasn’t that easy to ascend a tier,” Noen asked Raven. “You think it’s easy for him? We don’t know what he did before the tournament. Maybe he built a far more complex story than this. Who knows?” Raven replied.

Kaeren prepared another sound wave. When he released it, Ircos was truly hurled out of the arena, unable to use his Behind the Chaser skill. Not only Ircos was thrown, but the pillars before Kaeren also collapsed outward.

All the spectators covered their ears in pain. The three seconds Kaeren used his power felt like an eternity because of the agony they endured.

The referee stared sharply. Ircos did not move. He tried to rise, though he knew he had lost, but his knees buckled and he fell again.

The referee raised his hand. “Contestant down! Winner: Kaeren!”

The crowd rose to their feet. Applause thundered. Cheers flowed, though many were still busy rubbing their ears, the pain lingering.

“Even we, standing behind Kaeren, felt the pain. Imagine what Ircos felt,” Noen said, starting another conversation with Xiara. “Yes, my ears are still ringing a little,” Xiara replied. “So that’s the sheer difference of tiers,” Noen added. “This is my first time seeing it directly,” Xiara admitted.

Kaeren remained in the center of the arena. He looked upward. Toward the light. Toward the sound.

And for the first time, he smiled.