The ground split open, a deep crack racing across the arena floor. The shockwave blasted Jenner backward, his body slamming against the arena wall.
He coughed violently, struggling to regain balance, his staff trembling in his hands.
The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and gasps.
And standing at the center of the wreckage, her sword still glowing faintly, Elysia glared at him with unwavering determination.
The arena roared with thunderous cheers, the sound shaking the air like a storm.
But Jenner refused to stay down. Slowly, shakily, he pushed himself onto his feet. His hand clutched his staff so tightly his knuckles turned white, though it trembled with every movement.
His once-pristine robe was torn and singed, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.
"You... you think this is over?" he spat, his voice hoarse but filled with venom. His bloodshot eyes burned with rage. "I’ll crush you!"
Mana burst from his body like a raging tide, wild and unstable. The energy crackled dangerously in the air, making the ground beneath his feet vibrate. With a desperate cry, he slammed his staff forward.
The earth split open. Dozens of jagged ice lances shot upward in all directions, gleaming like deadly spears.
They whistled through the air as they sped toward Elysia, aiming to pierce her from every angle.
The crowd gasped, some even rising from their seats.
Elysia’s chest heaved as she caught her breath. Her body screamed in protest, every muscle sore, and her mana reserves were running dangerously thin. But her eyes sharpened, filled with unwavering determination.
She steadied her grip on her sword and stepped forward.
Her blade blurred with speed, cutting through the first lance in an instant. Shards of shattered ice rained down around her like falling stars.
She slashed again, and again, her movements flowing with perfect rhythm. The clashing of steel against ice echoed like a relentless drumbeat.
Every swing carried her closer, every step pushed her forward, her will unbroken.
Jenner’s smirk faded, his eyes widening in disbelief as Elysia advanced through the storm of his magic.
"No... stay back!" he shouted, panic breaking into his voice. He lifted his staff desperately, trying to form another barrier.
But his mana flickered weakly, drained and unstable. His hands moved slower, his spell crumbling before it could fully form.
Elysia’s feet left the ground. She leapt high into the air, her figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the blazing sun. For that moment, she seemed like a radiant warrior descending from the heavens themselves.
"Your magic is strong," she declared, her voice ringing across the arena, clear and resolute. "But the sword cuts through everything!"
Her blade came down in a single, decisive strike.
The ground trembled at the impact. Jenner’s staff splintered in half with a deafening crack, the shards scattering across the arena floor.
His half-formed barrier shattered into fragments of light, dissolving into nothingness.
The tip of Elysia’s sword stopped just at his throat, the steel gleaming coldly against his skin.
Silence fell over the arena like a heavy curtain. Not a breath could be heard.
Jenner’s chest heaved, his entire body shaking. His eyes darted to the blade at his throat, then to Elysia’s unwavering gaze. For a moment, his lips trembled as if he wanted to resist, but the fight had drained from him completely.
At last, his shoulders slumped, his defiance collapsing. He closed his eyes in bitter resignation.
"...I yield," he whispered, his voice low and broken.
The silence shattered as the crowd erupted into cheers once more.
The silence that had settled over the arena shattered like glass.
Thunderous applause exploded from every corner, rolling like a crashing wave. Cheers, gasps, and cries of disbelief filled the air, drowning out even the echo of clashing steel.
Some jumped up from their seats, some with mouths wide open in shock, others clapping until their hands turned red.
The nobles sitting in the higher stands leaned forward, their jeweled robes rustling as they whispered to each other, their faces filled with disbelief and reluctant admiration.
Even the other family, who had seen countless duels and battles, exchanged glances—some surprised, some impressed, and others quietly thoughtful.
Elysia stood at the battlefield.
Her sword, faintly glowing with the residue of her last strike, was lowered but steady in her grasp.
Her chest rose and fell in sharp, controlled breaths. Sweat rolled down her face and dampened strands of her hair, sticking them to her cheeks, but her expression did not waver.
Her eyes were calm and sharp, unyielding like tempered steel. She looked less like a tired student and more like a warrior who had just carved her name into history.
Jenner, on the other hand, was a broken figure.
He had fallen to his knees, the shattered remains of his staff scattered at his side. The powerful weapon that once glowed with elemental fury now lay in pieces, its runes dimmed and lifeless.
His hands shook as he tried to steady himself, his pride wounded deeper than the cuts on his skin.
His chest heaved, his breathing ragged, and sweat dripped from his chin onto the dust of the arena floor.
For a long moment, he could not bring himself to meet Elysia’s gaze.
But finally, he looked up.
There was bitterness in his eyes, a sting of humiliation, but beneath that, a reluctant flicker of respect burned. His lips trembled as he forced the words out through clenched teeth:
"You..." he rasped, his voice hoarse and heavy with defeat. "...are no ordinary swordsman."
The crowd quieted slightly, straining to hear her reply.
Elysia moved with quiet dignity. She raised her blade, wiped the blood and dust from its edge, and slid it into its sheath with one smooth motion that rang with finality.
Her arms trembled faintly from exhaustion, but her voice carried steady and clear across the arena.
"Remember this, Jenner," she said, her tone calm but firm. "Magic is powerful, yes—but power alone means nothing. Spells can destroy cities, but without the heart to guide them, they are just empty lights. True strength doesn’t come from magic or weapons. It comes from the resolve to stand firm when everything is against you."
Her words struck like steel against stone. Some students bowed their heads, reflecting quietly.
Others clenched their fists, as if inspired by her conviction. Even the Council of Clan seemed to weigh her words heavily, their eyes narrowing with newfound recognition.
Jenner lowered his gaze, silent. He did not argue.
Then, like a clap of thunder, the announcer’s voice boomed across the arena: