The field reset.
Officials moved across the scorched ground with quiet efficiency, marking boundaries, checking positions. The char left by Jelo's surge had faded slightly — still visible if you looked for it, but no longer the first thing your eyes went to.
The crowd had settled.
Not calmed exactly.
Settled. The way a room settles after something loud happens and everyone is still processing what they heard. The noise from Jelo's fight had dropped but the energy underneath it hadn't. It moved through the gathered students in low currents — conversations that started and stopped, glances exchanged, the particular restless attention of people who had just recalibrated their expectations and weren't sure what to do with the new information yet.
Jelo stood at the edge of the boundary.
He wasn't thinking about his own fight anymore.
He was watching Ken.
⸻
