Silence.
The entire coliseum stilled.
No commentary. No cheers. Just… stillness.
Confusion.
Shock.
Even the commentator had gone completely quiet.
On the space between both teams.
Nothing moved.
Except the hundreds of bone spears floating in the air.
They were as thick as javelins.
All of them glowed faintly with dark energy, swirling in concentric layers above the heads of the Group D team.
The temperature across the entire coliseum had dropped several degrees.
The commoners shivered.
The nobles sat rigid.
Then came the sound.
Not of battle.
But a single voice.
Calm.
Unrushed.
Michael.
He stood alone at the front of his team, eyes half-lidded as he looked toward the frozen nobles across from him.
"Should we continue?" he asked softly.
No one answered.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it echoed across the arena like a hammer blow. Because every bone spear above the stage trembled at his words—like they were just waiting for a command to fall.
