After their first two quick fights, they hadn't seen another student. The weaker teams were either hiding or already eliminated.
The stronger teams were probably doing the same thing they were hunting.
"Well, this is dreadfully dull," Isolde said with an exaggerated sigh, breaking the silence. "I was promised excitement."
She glanced at her score tally, her smile growing.
"On the bright side, our team is doing wonderfully. Let's see… Selvara is in the lead with fifty points. Impressive."
Selvara only grunted.
"Senior Azrael is in second with forty points," Isolde continued, her eyes flicking toward him. "Then I have twenty, Seraphina has twenty, and our fallen teammates Zeyric and Liam have ten each. A respectable showing."
She turned her sweet but cutting smile on Seraphina. "Strange, isn't it? You and Senior Azrael used to be the talk of the academy. He followed you everywhere. But now, he has more points than you, and the two of you barely even speak."
Seraphina's hands clenched. "There is nothing between us, Princess. There never was."
"Oh, I don't know," Isolde said, her voice dripping with false pity. "He fought my brother over you. He changed his whole personality. And now you're on the same team. It sounds like a romance novel."
"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," Seraphina warned, her amber eyes flashing.
Before it could grow worse, Azrael spoke, his voice cold.
"The boy you're talking about is dead," he said, not looking at either of them. "He died in a duel he was too stupid to avoid. You should worry about the man who's standing here now."
The words cut through the air. For the first time, Isolde's smile faltered, even if only for a second.
Seraphina stared at his back, confusion twisting inside her. She couldn't match the boy she remembered with the man in front of her.
Then steel clashed up ahead, followed by a grunt of pain. The forest grew still.
Selvara tilted her head, a faint smile on her lips. "Looks like the boredom's over," she murmured, her pale eyes gleaming.
They moved forward quietly and peered through the brush. In a small clearing, two students fought in a desperate duel.
Both were alone—their teams already eliminated.
One was a heavyset second-year with a war hammer. The other was a fast third-year with a rapier.
"I'll take the big one," Selvara said, smiling cruelly.
"The fast one is mine," Seraphina snapped.
Before Isolde could speak, they attacked. Selvara slipped behind the hammer-wielder as he raised his weapon. One precise strike to the back of his neck, and he dropped. His pendant glowed, and he vanished.
Seraphina crashed against the rapier-user, her crystal magic exploding from the ground to drive him back. Steel clashed against glittering crystal. In seconds, he was disarmed and trapped. He surrendered, crushing his pendant.
"Sixty points for me," Selvara said with a sigh.
"Thirty for me," Seraphina muttered, still annoyed.
BWOOOOOMP! BWOOOOOMP! BWOOOOOMP!
Three loud horns echoed through the forest. It wasn't the usual fire warning.
"Ah," Isolde said, her smile bright with excitement. "The final stage begins."
The ground shook. The fire at the forest's edge roared higher, closing in faster. The arena was shrinking, forcing them all toward the center.
After ten minutes of sprinting through burning woods, they burst into a vast, circular clearing.
At its center stood a single ancient oak, its twisted branches clawing at the smoky sky. The ground around it was scorched black. This was the final stage.
They were the first to arrive. The four of them stood together, chests heaving, eyes fixed on the opposite edge of the field. Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel fire.net
They didn't have to wait long.
From the smoke and fire, six figures appeared. They didn't run—they walked, calm and steady, as if they owned the ground beneath their feet.
At their head was Kaelen Valerius. His golden hair shone like firelight against the falling ash. His uniform was stained and his cheek bore a thin cut, yet his stride was unbroken, his expression hard with resolve.
Beside him walked Elvara.
She was no longer the timid girl from the start of the story.
Her face was dirty, her uniform was torn, but her green eyes were sharp and focused.
Behind Kaelen stood their allies—Gareth, Paul, and the two third-years, Leon and Ronda. Six in all.
The hero's team. Whole, unbroken, and still standing as one. Their uniforms bore the marks of battle, but together they looked unshaken an unyielding wall of resolve.
They stopped at the far edge of the clearing, a hundred yards of scorched earth yawning between the two groups.
The air thickened, pressing down on everyone present.
It wasn't just silence, it was the weight of everything that had led here, every choice, every grudge, every unspoken truth funneled into this single moment.
Kaelen's eyes found his across the field. There was no hesitation in them, no doubt. Just the cold, steady promise of a final reckoning.
They looked like heroes, true heroes - standing against the last great evil.
And Azrael knew, deep in the pit of his stomach, that to them… he was that evil. Two teams remained. Six against four.
The final battle was about to begin.