Northern looked at her again. This time, his gaze carried a strange light of carefulness and resolve, blazing with an ethereal blue radiance.
Soraya paused for a moment, hesitating, before she spun her sword and launched forward. Northern extended one hand upward, two fingers poised before his face.
Thin, elongated arrows of fire began to materialize around him, casting a twilight glow across the coliseum. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though dawn was breaking anew.
Then, the flames blazed dangerously and streaked forward.
As they came, Soraya moved.
She flowed in a zigzag pattern, spinning her death scythe as she glided across the landscape, feet barely touching the ground as if gravity itself bent to her will.
The first flames made contact. The scythe spun, catching the light in a serene and peaceful dance, resembling a crescent moon brought to life under the harsh daylight.
Northern watched something fantastic unfold before his eyes.
The blade cleaved right through the spear of flames, causing the halved parts of the arrows to separate and harmlessly pass her by. Without pausing for breath, she sprang into more ferocious motion, her weapon a blur of deadly precision.
Silver arcing lights swept across the wind, curving delicately and cleaving the fiery spears as she flowed. At some point, her figure vanished within the fiery bombardment, her presence announced only by the silvery crescent slashes that carved through the air in quick succession, dissecting the flames with surgical precision.
Northern’s lips parted slightly as he watched. Another volley of arrows was already forming at his command.
But this—this was shocking.
’She can cut fire...?’
Technically, that should not be possible. Of course, in a world one, impossibility was a fragile concept at best. Still, it was exceedingly rare to witness a weapon that could cut through fire.
Not merely separate it, but literally cut through. That was gold.
And suddenly, it made sense why she could also slice through his ice with such ease.
A corner of Northern’s lips curled upward.
’Perhaps I should raise the bar a little higher then…’
So far, Northern had been remarkably merciful with his opponent whenever he employed abilities from FrostHeart and Sun’s Legacy—especially Sun’s Legacy.
Not because he harbored any mercy for his opponent; it was never about them at all. Rather, it stemmed from the sheer firepower these talents commanded.
It was like trying to kill an ant with a revolver. The ant would certainly die, but its death would be the least of one’s concerns in the aftermath.
These abilities were simply too powerful to be employed carelessly. At least, that was how he perceived it.
But lately, he’d been feeling rather tempted... to test his limits.
All this while, the ability of Sun’s Legacy he had been using was Ignis Dominus, which granted him domination over flames. It functioned much like the Ice Manipulation of FrostHeart, allowing him to weave fire into anything as vast as his imagination permitted.
The other times he had attempted to use additional abilities from both talents, he witnessed firsthand the devastation they wrought. And Sun’s Legacy was far worse.
Twilight Phoenix had transformed the landscape of an entire frozen mountain.
Half of Verulania could be reformed in the vicious crucible of its flames.
And definitely not in a way they’d appreciate.
Northern extended his hand to the side and murmured:
A terrible sound and shockwave tore through the center of the arena, blazing upward with a torrent of vicious blue flames that soared like a vengeful pillar reaching for the heavens.
Northern stood there, his expression cold as the subtly dancing column of azure flames consumed his extended hand, stretching skyward in defiance of gravity itself.
At the sound of the explosion, Soraya had sliced apart the last of the second volley of fire arrows that had plagued her. She looked skyward with a tight frown, her face draining of color.
"...just how many cards does he have up his sleeves?"
She kicked the shaft of her scythe off the floor, spinning it with minimal movement before halting abruptly, causing the blade itself to cleave the wind behind her with a chilling intensity.
Northern’s arm was now encased in blue flame that blazed upward, dancing softly yet menacingly in the dense air. The pillar of fire cast an ethereal blue glow across the arena. The sight was appalling to behold, mesmerizing, and terrifying in equal measure.
Nobody was certain what exactly Northern intended to do with this power, but the mere sight of it made spectators’ gazes waver with concern for the girl before him.
"Hey, shouldn’t they just call off the match at this point? She’s a girl."
"I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m worried about her too."
"Bah! To hell with that! Whether male or female, we all deserve the same question. You all weren’t worried for her brother just now!"
"I mean, we kind of were, but you know..."
The conversation faded as the view panned away from the crowds. Similar worried discussions rippled through various sections, the sentiment visible across many expressions.
Soraya didn’t need to hear them to understand. She was no stranger to such evaluations and pity. After all, she had been raised in a clan that treated her the same way every single day.
Despite being insidiously more dangerous and powerful than her brother, the clan elders always found excuses to justify why she would forever be less preferred, why her father never gave them equal attention, and why she was always treated with excessive caution while he enjoyed the privileges of hardcore training that later evoked growth.
This was the world she had been fighting against since childhood. Why else would someone like her not be in some young noble’s home, breeding children for him while expanding her cosmetic collection with each pitiful passing day?
Because she had actively fought against it. She did so every single day of her life, and today was no different.
Northern moved, his hand slowly moving backward as he bent his legs into stance.
While Soraya braced herself for what was to come.