He vanished.
A blur shot across the stage, too fast for the untrained eye to follow.
When he reappeared, he was at the very edge of the platform. A wolf's severed head dangled from one hand.
His clothes remained spotless.
The rest of the stage, however, was a canvas of carnage. Ten wolves. Ten clean kills. Not a single growl, not a single yelp. Their bodies lay where they had fallen, heads severed so cleanly it looked surgical.
Silence reigned.
The silence didn't last.
A heartbeat later, the entire arena exploded into chaos.
The audience roared to life, a tidal wave of noise crashing through the stadium.
Voices rose and overlapped, some screaming in excitement, others shouting in disbelief.
Even the blue-robed officials exchanged glances.
Shock. Amazement. Confusion.
One youth. No weapons. No armor. A single movement—and ten wolves were dead before most even realized he'd acted.
"Impossible…"
"Was that movement-type magic?"
