The sound of impact echoed long after Goldsworth's body stopped sliding.
For a heartbeat—
Nothing happened.
There were no cheers.
No mockery.
And no commentary from the people.
Just stunned silence.
Then the arena erupted — but it was not in praise, but confusion.
"What just happened?"
"Did he break through the strings?"
"That's impossible—Goldsworth's defense hasn't failed once since he resumed!"
"How did the Clown do that?"
"He was half-dead a second ago!"
"How did he find a weakness in that defence?"
Cadets leaned over the railings. Some stood on their seats. Others stared at the projection screens as if waiting for a replay to correct reality.
Even the sponsor feed that was usually a roaring flood of comments and point transfers — froze.
The scrolling text halted mid-line.
There were no emotes.
No taunts from Goldsworth's supporters or others on his side.
No doubt, there were all shocked.
All that remained was a blinking cursor.
And then—
