Thousands of eyes followed the line of Ivan's blade.
The stadium crowd, still reacting to the brutal three-second defeat of a third-year mage, erupted into a deafening roar. The Knight faction pounded their boots against the stone bleachers. High above, in the VIP box, the white-robed Inquisitor leaned over the railing, her pale eyes fixed on the Magic Department stands.
Alex didn't stand up. He didn't sneer, shout, or reach for a weapon. He simply sat still, meeting Ivan's gaze across the sunlit sand with cold indifference.
Emma sat beside him, casually turning a page in her ledger.
"Are you going to wave back, or just let him point at you all afternoon?" Emma asked.
"Let him point," Alex said. His eyes were already moving away from the arena, toward the stadium's southern exit. "I have an errand."
Emma didn't look up. "Cassandra is doing a headcount before the afternoon combat block. If you're missing, she'll lock down the staging room."
"I just need five minutes."
