As the wind curled along the edge of the mountain…
Helion stood across from Draven, his Solstice Edge gleaming in hand. His stance was sharp, focused—ready for anything Draven might launch.
Draven stood still. Arms crossed. Unmoving.
"I'm ready when you are," he said flatly, his voice cold and serious.
Without hesitation, Helion launched forward—leaping into the air with speed and fury. He brought his blade down hard, the mountain wind swirling behind the strike.
CLANG!
Draven didn't move. He lifted his forearm and caught the blade with it—no dodge, no block. Just raw defense.
Helion's eyes widened.
He just… tanked it?
A small grin tugged at the corner of Draven's mouth.
"That was a decent strike."
Then—
"Spirit Skill: Armor Eater."
His voice echoed across the cliffs like a drumbeat.
In an instant, Draven's armor came alive—spikes, spears, and jagged edges burst from his limbs, lunging toward Helion like living weapons.
Helion twisted midair, narrowly dodging the first barrage. He landed hard, rolled, then darted into a sprint—Draven's armor continued to attack, morphing and extending outward like liquid steel, chasing him with relentless precision.
It didn't stop.
A blade lashed forward—CLANG! Helion blocked.
Another—he ducked.
Another—he rolled under it, his breathing sharper now.
He weaved through them all—fainting, flipping, parrying, always just a second away from being skewered.
Draven hadn't moved. He stood as if bored, arms crossed still—his armor doing all the work, reacting with deadly instinct.
For every strike Helion attempted, a new weapon erupted from Draven's armor to counter it.
The mountain echoed with the clashing of light and steel.
Helion gritted his teeth.
This isn't just defense…
He's barely even trying…
Helion gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the Solstice Edge.
"Let's do this, Luminox…"
He spoke not aloud, but within—calling to the spirit within his blade.
The sword shimmered.
Then—
FLASH!
A brilliant burst of radiant light exploded from its surface.
"Spirit Skill: Solstice Glow!" Helion roared.
Light coiled around his body like burning wind. His speed surged. In a blur of motion, Helion dashed through the battlefield—faster, sharper, brighter than before. His blade moved with precision, cutting down every incoming strike from Draven's living armor.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The steel tendrils lunged again, but Helion met them all. Sparks flew with every deflection.
Then—with one powerful leap—Helion flipped through the air.
In mid-spin, he slashed downward.
WHHHHRRRMMM—
A brilliant crescent wave of pure light burst from his blade, roaring across the cliff toward Draven.
Draven's eyes finally widened.
He didn't move.
The wave hit.
BOOM!
Light exploded across the ridge in a dazzling flash, shaking the mountain with its force. Dust and smoke swirled where Draven stood.
Helion landed, panting but smiling.
"Yes!" he shouted, triumphant.
But as the smoke cleared…
His smile faded.
From within the haze, the liquid metal of Draven's armor expanded—floating around him like a living shield. It had absorbed the blast. Protected him.
The armor pulsed and hovered, still moving on its own.
Draven stepped forward, untouched.
And then—he laughed.
A slow, amused, arrogant laugh.
"Don't get cocky," he said, eyes sharp now. "You've only seen the surface."
Draven suddenly burst into laughter—low at first, then rising with cruel amusement.
"Is that it?" he scoffed. "I was hoping you'd at least scratch me."
Without warning, the liquid metal surrounding him shot forward.
CRACK—CRACK—CRACK!
Dozens of gleaming beams launched like spears, screaming through the air toward Helion.
Helion's eyes widened.
He darted left—then right—his body weaving and twisting through the assault. He deflected one, ducked another, flipped back over a third.
But he wasn't fast enough.
SLASH! One caught his shoulder.
THWACK! Another struck his leg, staggering him.
Helion grit his teeth and stumbled—just in time to see Draven leap.
Too late.
CRACK!
Draven's punch landed clean, smashing into Helion's jaw with brutal force. The crowd watching through projection crystals gasped as Helion's body jolted from the impact—stone cracking beneath his heels.
But—
He didn't fall.
Helion staggered… but his knees held.
His eyes snapped open—still burning with light.
Before Draven could retract his arm—
WHAM!
Helion twisted on instinct and drove his boot straight into Draven's side, catching him off-guard.
The force of the kick sent Draven skidding back across the mountain ridge, armor shrieking against the stone.
Dust whipped around them. Wind howled.
Helion wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, steadying his stance.
"You hit hard…" he said through clenched teeth. "But I'm not done yet."
Draven slid to a stop, his grin gone.
He straightened, narrowed his eyes.
"So… you're not just light tricks after all."
The mountain trembled.
Draven's armor pulsed.
Liquid steel slithered from his greaves like a living serpent—latching onto Helion's leg.
Helion's eyes widened, but he didn't panic.
With a sharp twist, he launched into a backflip, shearing the metallic grip with a burst of light. As he soared mid-air, he slashed downward—
"Solstice Slash!"
A blinding arc of light burst toward Draven, fast and focused.
But Draven didn't flinch.
With a flick, he unsheathed his blade for the first time—a sleek black longsword etched with pulsing silver veins—and cut clean through the light wave.
BOOM!
The mountain trembled from the shockwave of the clash.
Draven didn't pause.
He pointed the tip of his sword forward—and it extended like a lance, hurling across the ridge with terrifying speed.
Helion's instincts screamed.
He dodged just in time, the blade whipping past him with a hair's breadth to spare, slicing a lock of hair as it passed.
"Tch—!"
He spun out of the dodge, breath sharp, heart pounding.
That was too close.
From across the battlefield, Draven stared, his sword retracting with a metallic whip.
"Starting to feel the pressure, Helion?" he said coldly.
Helion exhaled, tightening his grip.
No… but you will."
Helion's voice cut through the mountain wind.
He gripped his sword with both hands and raised it high.
"AHHHHHHH!"
A blinding column of golden mana erupted around him—pure, radiant, wild. The stone beneath his feet cracked, unable to contain the force bursting from his core.
The entire ridge lit up with piercing light, spiraling upward like a beacon in the sky.
Across from him, Draven only grinned.
"This is more like it!"
SILVER mana exploded from his body like a storm, dense and heavy, swirling with jagged metallic arcs. The air howled as the two opposing energies collided—light and steel battling for dominance.
Cracks spidered across the mountain. Loose stones began to levitate under the raw force of their mana pressure.
From the royal booth, even Syrus stood now, eyes sharp.
"They've both awakened their mana at full force…"
Zeyr's hand tightened into a fist.
This was it.
Helion's golden aura surged forward like sunlight breaking through a storm.
Draven's silver energy twisted like coiled chains, snapping through the air.
Two storms. One battlefield.
And the clash… was just beginning.
Near the Riverbank…
While the mountain wind howled over Helion and Draven's clash, another fierce battle was unfolding by the glimmering water's edge.
Renza and Gena went blow for blow, swords clashing in bursts of flame and water. Sparks hissed with every strike. Renza, ever the confident flame, grinned as he pressed forward.
Each strike he landed hit heavier than the last.
Gena ducked low, eyes calm but focused. With a sharp flick of her wrist, a whip of water cracked across Renza's legs, forcing him to stagger slightly.
He only laughed. "What was that supposed to be?"
Renza kicked back at the water, dispersing it easily, then gripped his sword tightly as azure light flickered around him.
"Spirit Skill: Willowisp."
Dozens of blue fire orbs burst into the air around him, hovering like predatory stars.
He tilted his head toward Gena, smirking.
"Let's see how many you can dodge."
Ten orbs launched toward her in an instant.
Gena twisted and spun, dodging four with perfect grace. But one slipped by—cracking against her back and erupting in a small explosion.
She winced, the impact softened by a thin veil of water she'd summoned in time.
The other five closed in.
One sweep. One move.
"Spirit Skill: Water Craft."
The river behind her pulsed with magic, glowing a vibrant blue. Its surface rippled unnaturally as water swirled at her command.
"You're unlucky," she said, eyes sharp. "We're near a river I can use."
She raised her hands. Two massive arms of water surged forward, reaching for Renza like living serpents.
He didn't flinch.
More Willowisps flew from him, crashing into the watery hands, turning them into columns of rising steam.
Their gazes met through the mist.
Both grinned.
Renza sighed, stretching his neck. "Alright then… let's kick this up a notch."
He burst forward, flames spiraling behind his blade.
Gena narrowed her stance.
"First Form: Aqua Prison."
Water surged upward from beneath him, coiling tightly, attempting to lock him in a crushing sphere.
But Renza's sword was already ablaze.
"First Form: Ember Fang!"
A devastating arc of roaring fire exploded from his blade, tearing through the water prison with a violent hiss. The heat boiled the air—and the water—on contact, steam rising in wild plumes.
Gena's eyes widened as the force sent her flying backward, crashing through a cluster of trees near the riverbank.
Renza landed smoothly, brushing his thumb across his chin.
He smirked.
"Don't tell me that's all it took?"
Through the smoke, Gena tried to stand, but staggered—her armor scorched, clothes tattered and dripping.
Yet her eyes still burned with defiance.
The fight… wasn't over yet.
In the Stands…
Geno stood frozen, watching through the projection crystal hovering above the stadium.
His fists were clenched.
He was the only one from his team who hadn't been called yet. But that wasn't why his heart pounded.
His eyes were locked on the Riverbank arena—on his sister, Gena.
She was fighting hard. Holding her ground. But it was Renza she faced… and even Geno had to admit—
Renza wasn't pulling any punches.
Still, Geno whispered to himself, almost like a prayer:
"She'll push through. I know she will."
The crowd around him roared as the fight continued, gasping and cheering in waves as both Gena and Renza fought ferociously.
⸻
Back on the Riverbank…
Gena stood, battered and breathing hard.
But still standing.
"I'm not done yet," she said, her voice hoarse but defiant.
Across from her, Renza gave a wide, almost wicked smile.
"You sure about that?" he called out.
Then, to her shock—he slowly sheathed his sword.
"I won't dodge," he said, eyes glinting. "Hit me with your best shot."
It was mockery… but also respect. A test.
Gena gritted her teeth, fire burning in her chest. Her grip on her sword tightened. Her mana flared—a shimmering blue aura wrapping around her like ocean waves.
She raised her hand high.
Above her, a massive sphere of water began to form, condensed tighter and tighter until it shimmered with raw pressure. The surface pulsed like a living heart.
In the stands, Geno's eyes widened.
"…That's her limit…"
Back on the field, Renza smiled wide, heat already rippling off his body in waves.
"That's more like it!" he roared.
Gena brought her hand down.
The massive orb of water crashed downward, its shadow engulfing Renza.
The moment it descended, Renza's aura burst into flames—his fire roaring so fiercely the air itself shimmered.
Even Gena, feet away, began to sweat under the pressure.
The crowd gasped.
Renza threw his hand up, unsheathed his blade, and let loose an explosion of fire—
FWOOM—
A searing blast of heat collided with the water, vaporizing it in an instant.
The field vanished under a cloud of steam.
Then—through the mist—Renza shot forward like a meteor, fire swirling at his heels.
He kicked Gena hard, sending her spinning sideways—
But before her body could even hit the ground—
He was already there.
He snapped his fingers.
Dozens of blue fire orbs struck her all at once.
Each one hit like a hammer. Light. Heat. Pain.
Gena's knees hit the earth. Her blue aura flickered once… then vanished.
Her body trembled, and tears ran silently down her cheeks—not from pain, but from the weight of defeat.
Her mana was gone. She couldn't move. Couldn't speak.
She had given it everything.
And she had lost.
But before she could fall—
Renza caught her.
His expression wasn't mocking now. It was… strangely soft.
He held her gently, as the Hyper Beam descended, surrounding them in light.
And just like that—
They vanished.
In the center of the grand stadium, the beam flared once again, and the two reappeared before the roaring crowd.
Renza stood tall, holding Gena in his arms like a fallen warrior.
And the stadium erupted in cheers.
One battle was over.
And Renza… had won.
As Mixed Emotions Filled the Air…
The thunder of the crowd still echoed through the stadium, but beneath it—there was a silence that only those who cared deeply could hear.
Renza knelt down and gently lowered Gena to the ground.
Her body was limp, eyes barely open, the last flickers of mana fading from her skin.
Then—
Geno appeared.
He ran from the side platform, pushing past medics as he dropped to his knees beside her.
"Gena…!" he called, his voice tight.
His eyes burned—not with tears, but with restrained fury. He turned toward Renza, who stood above them, flames still flickering faintly around his arms.
Their eyes met.
Geno's glare was sharp, protective, full of rage.
But before he could say a word, Renza simply nodded… and stepped back.
"She fought well," he said calmly, without arrogance.
Then he turned away—no victory pose, no theatrics.
Just a quiet exit.
The cheers hit him in waves as he walked across the platform.
But he didn't stop.
He didn't smile.
He had already moved on.
And behind him, Geno held his sister close—his heart torn between pride… and pain.
"You fought amazing, Gena…" Geno whispered, still holding her close.
Gena, her eyes glassy from exhaustion and tears, managed a faint smile as she leaned into him.
"Thank you… Geno," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Slowly, he helped her to her feet. She stumbled at first, but he kept her steady—an anchor in the middle of the roaring arena.
The crowd, having witnessed the fierce battle and her resilience, erupted into applause—not just for the victor, but for the spirit of a fighter who refused to yield.
Gena looked up in surprise, overwhelmed by the cheers. For a moment, her eyes widened… then softened, moved by the recognition.
Geno gave her a proud nod.
"You stood your ground. That's all that matters."
And as they walked off together, the applause didn't stop—it followed them all the way to the edge of the stage, echoing the heart of a warrior's honor.
A tremor rippled through the air.
The crowd hushed, slowly turning their eyes toward the largest projection crystal.
A pulse of golden and silver light surged across the screen—blinding and immense.
Gasps spread like wildfire.
"That's… the mountain terrain!" someone cried out.
The focus shifted.
The scene cut away from the riverbank, flickering violently as the image realigned.
And there they were—
Two figures locked in place as the wind howled between them, mana blazing so fiercely it distorted the very space around them.
Helion and Draven.
The mountain air trembled.
Golden mana spiraled violently around Helion, twisting the wind into a storm of radiant pressure. Rocks lifted from the ground. The entire cliffside seemed to hum beneath his feet.
Across from him, Draven's silver aura grew denser, sharper. His armor slithered and coiled like it had a mind of its own, pulsing with dark luster. But even his eyes now narrowed—not in fear, but in readiness.
Then—
Helion stepped forward.
And as his blade lowered—
BOOM.
A blinding explosion of pure white light erupted from the Solstice Edge, the sword glowing like a sun brought to earth.
"Solstice Glow—IMPERIAL SLASH!"
His voice thundered across the terrain as he slashed downward with full force.
A pillar of light exploded outward from the sword's arc—towering, divine, and unstoppable.
The mountainside ignited in brilliance.
The blast swallowed everything—stone, sky, air itself. The battlefield was drenched in a searing white flash that blinded even the projections back at the stadium. Spectators shielded their eyes. The magical screens trembled trying to keep up with the surge.