Leon's POV
The day of the finals had finally arrived.
You could feel it in the air the moment you stepped into the arena. It wasn't just noise. It was pressure. The kind that pressed against your skin and settled into your lungs. The most anticipated fight of the entire tournament was about to happen, and everyone knew it.
Over the course of the competition, the crowd had decided to give us nicknames. Somehow, that became part of the spectacle. Calling people by their actual names felt too ordinary and too grounded. This was entertainment. This was drama. Titles made it better.
And I had been given one.
The Silent Swordsman.
At first, I thought it sounded a bit exaggerated. But the more I heard it echo through the stands, the more I understood why it stuck. I had won every match without much expression. There was no yelling. And I didn't do any flashy reactions. There was no visible frustration or excitement in my face as well. Just steady breathing, calm eyes, and clean cuts.
