Silence.
The kind of silence that didn't come from awe, but from disbelief.
The kind of silence that felt sacred, as though to speak would be to disrespect the moment unfolding before them.
Rudra stood. Not because he had the strength to, but because something greater than strength was holding him upright.
A clean hole had been burned through his torso—clear as daylight.
And yet… he stood.
Orion, lying crumpled across the arena floor, was completely unable to move.
The arena didn't erupt into cheers. Not yet.
Instead, it held its breath.
Agni Igris was the first to move, flickering from the monarch's gallery to Rudra's side in a heartbeat.
He caught his son just as Rudra's legs buckled, flames hissing from his wounds as they slowly began to regenerate.
"Rudra," Agni whispered, kneeling beside him. "You did it."
Rudra didn't answer. He couldn't. His head slumped forward, unconscious—but his face was peaceful. He had fought like a beast, but stood like a king.
