Olmo stepped forward.
There was no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty in his expression. He had already made his decision before speaking — it showed in the steadiness of his posture, in the way his gaze moved across the remaining fighters without rushing, without second-guessing.
By this point, three of the four positions had already been decided.
The field, once filled with constant movement and layered tension, had begun to settle into something quieter. The chaos of selection was giving way to structure. The noise that had built across the morning — fight by fight, outcome by outcome — had thinned down to a low undercurrent, the kind of energy that lingers after something significant has finished but before the full weight of it has been absorbed.
Only one position remained.
