Chapter 288: Warning [1] The medical team stormed onto the platform with urgency, their white coats and armbands cutting starkly against the blood-stained arena floor. They worked quickly but carefully, easing Ichigo’s limp, battered body onto a stretcher. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, each movement strained. The prolonged punishment, the fractured arm, and the countless strikes endured had finally forced his body into collapse. The crowd, still intoxicated by the brutality of the match, could not see the toll behind his closed eyelids, the silent cost of pushing beyond one’s limits. A roar of applause erupted, shaking the stands as the stretcher was lifted. The audience had gotten exactly what they came for a strong match. "This was the best fight yet!" one man shouted, voice cracking with exhilaration. His hands clapped so hard they reddened. "Both fighters gave everything they had! Ichigo’s a real warrior, I’ll bet he’ll be back even stronger next time!" "Stronger?" another spectator retorted, frowning as his gaze lingered on Ichigo’s twisted arm. "He might never fight again. Broken bones like that don’t always heal cleanly, not to mention the effects this fight would have on his mental state. His career could already be finished." "Nonsense," a third fan scoffed, leaning over the railing with a grin. "Medical tech these days is leagues ahead of what it used to be. Fighters like him recover fast, he’ll be ready by the next tournament. You’ll see." Their voices mingled into a heated chorus, admiration, doubt, and blind faith colliding above the stretcher as the medics prepared to rush Ichigo out of the arena. Then, movement on the platform drew every eye. Noah vaulted effortlessly onto the stage, his landing so smooth it was almost predatory. The referee stepped forward to block him, but froze under the weight of Noah’s stare, a gaze so sharp and cold it rooted the official to the spot like prey caught in a predator’s sights. The noise from the stands faltered into uneasy quiet as Noah crossed the blood-slick floor. His boots left faint impressions beside the crimson stains. At the center, Kenzo stood with his shoulders heaving, eyes fixed on the blood beneath his feet. His earlier frenzy seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving only shock and an almost childlike disbelief at what his hands had wrought. Noah stopped a step away. When he spoke, his voice was low, yet carried effortlessly across the hushed arena, each word deliberate, edged with steel. "Hey, you. Listen carefully. You better pray you don’t face me in the next round. Because if you do...I’ll make sure you regret entering this competition." Kenzo’s head snapped up, confusion warring with defiance in his eyes. His lips curled into something between a sneer and a nervous grin. "Oh? Are you threatening me, then? Noah? I thought we were best friends. We even shared the natural spring together!" "Call it whatever you want," Noah replied, his calm more frightening than rage could ever be. "You like to fight until the bitter end, don’t you? Then we’ll see how long that courage lasts, when you’re the one breaking under the pain." The arena was utterly silent. Even the spectators, who had moments ago reveled in violence, now looked uneasily. Something in Noah’s tone, an almost merciless certainty, made the threat feel less like bravado and more like destiny. A storm had been set in motion. And everyone knew the semifinal would no longer be just a match. It would be a reckoning. "Did you hear that? Noah just threatened Kenzo right in front of everyone!" one spectator whispered sharply, leaning toward his friend. His eyes gleamed with anticipation. "This tournament just got way more interesting." "That wasn’t just a threat," another fan replied, voice lowered as if afraid Noah might somehow hear. "It felt like a promise. The way he said it... it gave me chills." A group of younger fans shouted over the growing hum of voices, their enthusiasm unrestrained. "Yes! That’s what we’re here for! Drama, grudges, and payback. The semifinals are going to be insane!" After delivering his warning, Noah turned on his heel and walked away with steady, calm steps. Each movement radiated composure, yet the weight of his presence lingered behind him like an oppressive shadow. The stunned silence that followed pressed down on everyone present, thick and suffocating, as though the arena itself had forgotten how to breathe. The referee finally stirred, blinking rapidly as if waking from a trance. His hands quivered as he lowered them to his sides, the echoes of that moment replaying in his mind. What was that... his gaze, the way he looked at me... He made me freeze as if I were prey facing an apex predator, the referee thought, a chill running through him. He had watched Noah’s quarterfinal match and had admired his control, his crisp movements, and his evident talent. Yet what had just happened was something entirely different. The young fighter had projected an aura so intense and predatory that it stripped away any illusion of safety. The calm boy he had seen earlier seemed like a mask, hiding a far more dangerous reality. The referee’s career had exposed him to champions, brawlers, and prodigies. He had stood in the middle of countless matches where fighters radiated confidence, fury, or determination. None of that compared to this. What Noah had displayed was not ordinary intimidation but a menace that paralyzed without a single strike. He has been holding back far more than his technique, the referee realized, his throat tightening with unease. There is something deeper inside him, something that cannot be measured by skill alone. The clarity of that thought shook him. He had misjudged Noah entirely. The boy he had written off as a promising newcomer was not simply skilled or disciplined. Whatever Noah truly was, he had transcended the category of a mere competitor. And if that power was ever fully unleashed, the referee was no longer certain anyone in the tournament could stand against it not even the demon standing next to him. Of course, the refree had no intention of telling Kenzo that. Instead, he kept the earlier feeling to himself, not telling anoybody around him...yet.