Back in the arena, the atmosphere was still charged with electricity.
The echoes of the last match had not yet faded.
Excited murmurs rippled through the massive crowd, their voices layered with awe, debate, and the lingering adrenaline of what they had witnessed.
All eyes kept drifting back to the shattered remains of the stage—deep cracks across its surface, broken tiles tossed like debris, and scorched patterns where spells had clashed with raw physical force.
Children pointed while adults spoke fervently, comparing Uga's monstrous strikes to Michael's uniqueness.
"Did you see that punch? I swear it made the entire barrier tremble!"
"I thought Uga had it. Who is that Sir Mic, really?"
Speculation ran wild. For most of them, that fight had eclipsed anything they'd seen in years.
It was the kind of duel that would be spoken about long after the tournament had ended—etched into the collective memory of all who witnessed it.
