The moment the administrator lowered his hand, the entire room changed posture again.Not just the fighters.Everything.The walls dimmed into deeper layers of shadowed geometry. The floor markings rotated faster, like the bar itself had shifted from “containment” into “judgment mode.”Elsa felt it immediately.“…Okay,” she muttered. “That’s not just an enforcer.”Ethan didn’t respond.Because the administrator had already moved.He didn’t rush.He arrived.One step forward—then he was in front of Ethan.No transition.No visible acceleration.Just presence displacement.Ethan barely tilted his head in time as the first strike came down.A palm strike—but it didn’t behave like a normal hit.The air around it compressed into a narrow corridor of force.Ethan raised his arm—and still got pushed back half a step.Elsa’s eyes widened from the side.“…He actually moved Ethan.”From the upper balconies, patrons leaned forward, voices rising.“That’s Administrator Veyron…”“He’s using Pulse

Elsa exhaled slowly, almost disbelieving.“…Ethan…”Veyron looked down briefly at the place Ethan had struck.“…Interesting.”A few threads in the air trembled faintly, as if reacting to his mood.He looked back up.“You weren’t trying to injure me.”Ethan answered honestly.“No.”A murmur spread.“He wasn’t?”“Then what was this fight?”Veyron asked, quieter now.“Why?”Ethan replied, “I wanted to see if you could feel.”A strange silence followed.Even the air seemed to hesitate.Veyron almost smiled.“…You’re either a fool…”He slowly rolled one shoulder.“…or someone who’s fought monsters much worse than me.”Ethan didn’t answer.That silence became its own answer.The administrator understood.“So…”he murmured.“…there is history.”Around them, the patrons had stopped talking altogether.Nobody laughed anymore.Nobody called for Ethan’s death.They simply watched.Because the fight had changed.It was no longer an execution.It had become a duel.And neither man had any intentio

For a long moment, no one moved.The only sounds were Ethan’s measured breathing……and the low hum of the sigils beneath the floor.Veyron’s grip never wavered.His knee remained firmly across Ethan’s shoulder while one hand held his wrist against the fractured stone.The chamber, moments ago filled with violence, had fallen into a tense silence.A silence so complete it felt almost respectful.Then—someone clapped.Once.Slowly.Another joined in.Then another.Within seconds, applause echoed through Cavern Bar.Not loud.Measured.Satisfied.A man leaning against the bar chuckled.“I told you.”“I told every one of you.”“No outsider walks out after challenging an Administrator.”Another patron scoffed lightly without looking away from the center.“Technically, he’s still conscious.”“That’s already more than most.”A woman lifted her glass.“To Veyron.”Several patrons raised theirs in agreement.“To Veyron!”A few glasses clinked together.Another laughed.“That human fought well

The sound wasn’t just impact—it was displacement.Veyron slid backward across the stone floor, boots scraping in a long, grinding protest, coat flaring behind him like a snapped banner as he caught himself several meters away. The air itself felt like it lagged behind the motion, as if the room had forgotten how physics was supposed to behave.For a moment, nobody moved.The bar froze.No cheering.No laughter.Just disbelief suspended in air, thick enough to choke on.Then the first voice cracked through it.“…He got out,” one patron said slowly, like he didn’t trust his own eyes.Another immediately shook his head, too fast, too sharp. “No, no—he didn’t just get out.”A third leaned forward, whispering like it was a confession. “He reversed it.”A fourth blinked hard. “That was Veyron’s lock!”A fifth, voice rising despite himself: “How did he—”A glass slipped from a bartender’s hand.It shattered against the floor.Nobody reacted to it. Not even the bartender.It was like sound no

Then Veyron extended his right hand slowly.The markings along his arm began to glow faintly at first—then brighter.The temperature in the room shifted.Downward.Cold seeped into the air like the building itself was remembering something older than heat.A patron stepped back. “Oh no…”Another whispered, “That technique…”“You can’t be serious…”“Inside the bar?”The floor beneath Veyron began to respond.Cracks lit up with ancient symbols.Lines forming patterns too precise to be accidental.Too deliberate to be natural.Elsa’s expression shifted instantly.“…Ethan…”Her voice lost its earlier excitement.“What is he doing?”An older patron swallowed hard.“He’s invoking it…”“Here?”“That’s not allowed…”“Not against him,” another said quietly.Elsa looked between them. “Not allowed? What does that mean?”The man didn’t answer immediately.Then: “…It means the rules don’t apply anymore.”The glowing symbols spread across the floor like waking ink.Up the walls.Across broken wood.