The platform had changed.
Whatever casual confidence had been sitting in Cedric's posture before Leon's counter landed. That controlled, noble-born certainty that the match was already decided had been set down.
What replaced it was something quieter and considerably more dangerous. His emerald eyes had sharpened. His shoulders had dropped by a fraction, settling into a lower, more committed stance.
He wasn't playing anymore.
Leon stood on the other side of the center line and waited.
He was breathing harder than Cedric. The defensive work of the first phase had cost him more than it had looked like from the outside.
Managing Cedric's pressure without matching it directly was efficient, but efficiency had a price.
His gold eyes were calm, but the quality of the calm had changed. Less processing, more presence. He had found the thread of the match and he was holding it with both hands.
Dovan watched from the platform edge without moving.
