The silence between the two finalists was loud, though only Noah understood the true stakes involved. To the spectators, it appeared to be competitive tension between two exceptional fighters preparing for the match of their lives.

The referee glanced toward the three judges positioned around the arena's perimeter, their elevated seats providing optimal viewing angles for scoring the complex techniques that would likely be displayed during the final bout. Each judge gave him a confirming nod, indicating their readiness to evaluate what promised to be the tournament's most technically demanding match.

With all preparations complete and the formal ceremonies concluded, the referee reached into his pocket and withdrew a single autumn leaf—the traditional signal used to begin the matches.

He held the leaf high above his head for a moment, ensuring both fighters and all spectators could see it clearly, then released it into the still air above the platform. The leaf began its gentle descent toward the arena floor, floating downward with the unhurried grace that would mark the final seconds of anticipation.

The referee stepped off the platform quickly but calmly, clearing the fighting area for the two combatants who would soon determine the tournament's ultimate victor. His role in the proceedings was complete until one fighter achieved victory or circumstances required official intervention.

The final match was about to begin, and the entire arena held its breath as the leaf continued its slow journey toward the ground that would signal the start of what promised to be an unforgettable confrontation between two martial artists who had proven their exceptional abilities throughout the tournament.

---

The leaf continued its graceful descent through the still air, each second stretching like an eternity as the two fighters remained motionless on the platform. The entire arena seemed to hold its collective breath, waiting for the moment when the natural timer would touch the ground and unleash what promised to be an explosive finale.

When the leaf finally made contact with the platform floor, everyone who expected immediate attacks was disappointed with the lack of it. Unlike during the semifinals, where Noah had immediately taken the initiative, this time he remained perfectly still, adopting a relaxed but ready stance while watching his opponent with predatory patience.

Kenzo didn't move either initially, his experienced eyes scanning Noah's positioning for any weakness he could exploit. His years of training under his master's guidance had taught him to identify opportunities in his opponents' stances, but Noah's seemingly casual posture revealed no obvious vulnerabilities despite appearing completely relaxed.

The tension was palpable as both fighters studied each other, neither willing to make the first move in what felt more like a psychological battle than a physical confrontation. The crowd began to murmur with anticipation, wondering why neither competitor was engaging after such an explosive buildup.

Noah watched Kenzo with calm intensity, his eyes analysing every micro-expression and subtle shift in his opponent's positioning. Without uttering a single audible word, he moved his mouth deliberately, forming words that only someone directly facing him could possibly read.

Kenzo was the only person in the arena who could interpret the silent message, his eyes widening slightly as he processed what Noah had just communicated through lip reading alone.

"I know what you did. You will pay for it."

The words struck Kenzo like a club to the chest, forcing the breath out of him. His mask of calm splintered, the fragments slipping away before he could hold them in place. He had been certain his secret would remain buried.

For hours after finding out that Noah had survived the attempt, he had questioned himself. Perhaps the mixture had been flawed. Perhaps his hand had slipped at some unnoticed moment. Yet as he faced the man now, all those doubts burned to ash. The poison had not failed. It had done exactly what it was meant to do: silent, without taste or scent, impossible to detect.

And still, the impossible had happened. The man before him had discovered everything. Worse, he had walked away untouched, the venom somehow drained from his body as though it had never been there. Not only had he survived, but he stood here alive and unbroken, his stance ready for violence, as if the poison had been nothing more than a bitter joke.

Kenzo's throat tightened.

The psychological impact was immediate and devastating—his calculated advantage had not only failed but had turned against him. If Noah had any proof that he had poisoned him, he would be in deep trouble.

The fact that Noah hadn't mentioned it to anyone and made sure it remained a secret confused Kenzo. He didn't understand why Noah hadn't at least tried to defame him.

As if Noah's silent threat was a catalyst that broke his restraint, Kenzo charged forward with aggression. Kenzo didn't hold back a single ounce of energy, as his body shot towards Noah at alarming speed, to everybody watching. This was the fastest that Kenzo was moving; he was no longer holding back.

But Noah had been waiting for this assault. He met it without panic, his stance firm, his eyes cold with calculation. Victory was within his reach, yet he refused to end the fight in a swift, decisive strike. That would have been too merciful.

Instead, he chose another path. He would dismantle Kenzo piece by piece, exposing him for what he truly was. Every block, every counter, every strike would be measured not to finish, but to degrade, to leave no doubt in the minds of those watching about the gulf between them.

Noah had studied Kenzo long enough to understand him. The man's arrogance was not confidence but a brittle shell, hiding his fractured sense of self. Narcissistic, self-obsessed, clinging to delusions of grandeur, Kenzo lived for the illusion of superiority. Stripping that away would wound him deeper than any blade.

To defeat him outright would only end the battle. To humiliate him would shatter his pride, leave scars that no healing could mend. And Noah intended to make sure Kenzo felt every second of that unravelling.

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