Silence.
The kind of silence that only followed the absolute destruction of an entire combat arena and the complete annihilation of a high-level magical beast.
I turned my head, blinking at my four grandparents, who had until now been completely silent.
Which was, frankly, concerning.
Grand Empress Saelira was staring at the floating debris with an expression I could only describe as calculative horror.
Grand Warlord Eryndor, normally unshakable, was rubbing his temples.
Grand Consort Ilythia had raised a delicate hand to her chin, eyes sharp, like she was mentally reviewing every imperial law regarding "unintended reality destruction."
And Grand Strategist Veylen?
He had just… sat down. Right there. In the middle of the wreckage. Head in his hands.
Saelira was the first to recover. "Well," she said, her voice only slightly strained. "That was certainly… educational."
Eryndor let out a slow, measured sigh. "That wasn't training."
