The fourth morning of the National Championship did not arrive with celebration, nor did it carry the restless excitement that had once filled the city streets during the early days of the tournament. Instead, it came with a quieter, heavier presence—one that settled over the Imperial City like a held breath that no one dared to release too soon.
The absence of noise was more telling than any roar.
Where merchants had once shouted predictions and children had once argued loudly about their favorite teams, there was now restraint. Conversations still existed, but they were subdued, measured, and thoughtful. Spectators no longer debated possibilities with careless enthusiasm; they discussed probabilities, outcomes, and consequences.
Because by this point, the tournament had revealed its true nature.
There were no more easy victories.
No more unexpected upsets driven by luck or inexperience.
No more teams that could be dismissed with a glance.
Only contenders remained.
