Neither Anthony nor Kingsley immediately stood up and rushed toward the battlefield below the moment the screen displayed their numbers; instead, they remained seated in silence, almost statuesque, as though each were waiting for the other to make the first move. Their stillness was not born from hesitation or fear, but from an unspoken understanding that passed between them.
But unknown to many present, the reason neither of them was moving was painfully simple and almost laughably straightforward, the winner of this spar had already been determined long before either of them even considered standing.
Vega remained silent, her gaze steady and unreadable as she observed the two from the side. She was well aware of what was happening and far more informed than the others who merely speculated in whispers. She had been there when Kingsley had lost to Anthony with barely two strikes, a defeat so swift that it had felt almost unreal, like a dream ending before it properly began.
