His eyes swept across the stands, pausing only to let the weight of his next words settle like iron.
"Bring out your third-years."
"Or your fourth."That sharp, amused smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Maybe then… you'll stand a chance."
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The silence that followed was total domination the kind that wounded not the body, but the pride.
It was an embarrassment. For the Warden Hall. For its legacy.
And from within that hush, a name broke the air like glass.
"That's the Absolute Command," Neil muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"He really is the son of Inanov Glev… The Absolute Monarch."
His voice, though calm, carried weight. Even standing on the outskirts, he could feel the faint pull of that same divine pressure.
He wasn't alone. The other monarch descendants felt it too.
A realization settled among them like falling ash:
A new contender had arrived.
He wasn't there yet… but at this rate?
He soon would be.
