The break between rounds stretched longer than expected.
Medical teams moved quickly, escorting injured participants away. Some walked out on their own. Others didn't.
No one talked about them.
Sora sat beside me, scrolling through updates. "They're rearranging the brackets."
"Someone got hurt badly," I said.
She paused. "How do you know?"
"People stop pretending when things go wrong."
Across the floor, a small crowd had gathered. Staff formed a loose perimeter, voices low, movements tense. Cameras stayed pointed away.
The competition continued.
That was the rule.
Ren appeared again, this time without his usual ease. He stood near the edge of the seating area, watching the staff instead of the arena.
"They won't say it publicly," he said without looking at me, "but that match crossed a line."
"Lines move," I replied.
"Not like this."
He finally turned. His eyes were sharp now. Focused. "You've seen this before."
I didn't answer.
He nodded once, like that was confirmation enough. "Then you know what happens next. Scrutiny. Pressure. People trying to provoke mistakes."
"I don't make mistakes."
"That's what worries them."
Sora glanced between us. "You two talk like this is normal."
"It is," Ren said. "For people they can't control."
An announcement echoed through the hall. Next matches in ten minutes.
Ren straightened. "If you make it past the next round, they'll stop treating this like a game."
"I never thought it was one."
He smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Good."
He walked away before Sora could ask more.
She looked at me. "Who is he, really?"
"Someone who hasn't decided which side he's on."
She frowned. "And you?"
I stood. "I decided a long time ago."
The arena lights brightened again.
Whatever was watching us…
It was done waiting.