"We still have something to do."
Just minutes earlier, after stabilizing the barrier and ensuring the worst had passed, they had exited the chamber exhausted, only to be met with an unexpected voice ringing clearly in their minds.
"There is no use continuing the competition. End it. Announce Mic Nor as the winner."
The voice had belonged to none other than the Duke himself.
No messenger. No formal decree. Just a direct order—telepathically relayed to them both.
They had exchanged a glance at the time, surprised by the abruptness. Technically, the decision was improper. Renn Noah had not been given a final chance. No duel. No announcement. No closing words. Just… dismissal.
But they were not in a position to question the Duke's will.
If the man wanted the competition over, it was over.
Now, all that remained was one final formality: speak with Mic Nor, confirm the Duke's decision, and announce the winner to the public.
The crown of victory would be placed on Mic Nor's head.
