Robert Osborn left the stage without ceremony. The roar of the crowd followed him like a distant tide, loud but already losing its shape, turning into something indistinct as his boots touched the stone steps leading down. Each step sent a dull ache through his ribs. His forearm throbbed where Conner's strike had torn skin and muscle, the wound hastily sealed by qi but far from healed.
He did not look back. At the Osborn Clan area, John Osborn was already standing, his face tight with concern that pride had not fully managed to hide. Essie rose as well, moving quickly but carefully, as if afraid that any sudden motion might make her brother collapse.
"You should sit," she said softly, her voice steady though her eyes were not. Robert nodded once and lowered himself onto the stone bench behind their section. The moment he sat, the tension he had been holding snapped loose. His shoulders sagged. His breathing deepened, uneven for a few beats before he forced it back under control.
