The brilliant pillar of light faded, its glow dissolving into drifting sparks.
Smoke curled through the fractured air as the dust began to settle.
The mountainside was shattered—stone quartered, earth ripped open, jagged rocks scattered across the battlefield like broken teeth.
And yet…
Draven still stood.
Enclosed.
Unmoving.
His entire body was now covered—head to toe—in a seamless, gleaming suit of armor. It wasn't just protection. It was a fortress.
Silver mana hissed off him in waves, evaporating like mist against sunlight, pulsing with raw power.
Helion staggered, his breath caught in his throat.
His blade trembled in his grip.
He took that hit… head on?
Draven took a slow step forward—then another. Each footfall cracked the rock beneath him.
The helm around his face retracted with a faint hiss of mana.
His eyes met Helion's—cold, sharp, unshaken.
"That was a strong technique. I'll hand it to you.," he said flatly.
Helion took two instinctive steps back, disbelief flashing across his face.
"That attack should've—"
"Should've what?" Draven cut in, voice rising. "Beat me?"
He laughed—loud, arrogant, echoing across the mountain like a storm.
Then, extending his arm, he declared:
"Feast your eyes—on my First Form: Bulwark Armor."
The silver gleamed with intricate patterns, pulsing with embedded runes. Mana lines crisscrossed the plating like living veins.
A small but dense shield formed on Draven's forearm, clicking into place with a pulse of silver light.
Every inch of him radiated command.
Every breath he took crushed the air around him.
Helion stood frozen, blade in hand—still glowing with light, but flickering now.
He wasn't just facing a prodigy.
He was facing a fortress.
Draven moved.
A blur of silver thunder charging forward—each step cracking stone, each breath fueled by fury.
"Give me more!" he roared, lifting his armored fist.
Helion met him head-on.
Light pulsed from the Solstice Edge as Helion slashed down with precision—
CLANG!
The blade struck Draven's dense forearm shield, sparks bursting on contact. Draven didn't flinch. His arm held steady like a mountain.
Their weapons locked.
Steel against radiant light.
A battle of strength.
Pressure swirled between them, kicking up stone and dust.
Helion's eyes burned. His muscles strained.
"AHHHHHH—!"
A surge of mana burst from within him, flooding into the blade.
BOOM!
A shockwave exploded between them—light and force blasting outward. The impact hurled them in opposite directions, scattering debris across the cliffside.
Smoke rolled.
From the veil of dust—
"Solstice Slash!" Helion shouted.
WHIP! WHIP! WHIP! WHIP!
Four radiant slashes of light cut through the smoke, all aimed at Draven mid-air.
Draven's shield moved like a blur—CLANG! CLANG!—blocking two.
The other two—SWING! SWING!—he cut through with his longsword, slicing the light clean in half.
But he wasn't done.
From behind his back—
THWIP! THWIP!
Two spears of living metal burst out from his armor, twisting forward like serpents aimed at Helion's chest.
Helion didn't blink.
He twisted his body in midair, soared higher—
SHING!
In one fluid, radiant motion, his blade swept upward—parrying both spears in a single glowing arc.
Waves of wind and light cracked across the cliff.
Helion landed on the ground, light whirling around him.
Draven spun mid-air, landing in a slide, his armor glowing silver-hot.
Their eyes locked again.
As it's still just the beginning.
Far from the crashing mountain peaks, deep within the overgrown expanse of the jungle arena, a different kind of battle was unfolding.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't grand.
It was fast.
Blurs cut through thick vines and dappled sunlight, barely visible to the naked eye. The air shimmered, flickers of light and dust crashing through trees, vanishing, and reappearing in new positions almost instantly.
From the audience, a voice echoed out in awe
"We can't even see them… they're too fast!"
CLANG. CLANG. SWISH.
Blades collided, sparks flicked through leaves, and bursts of mana cracked the silence.
The projection crystals struggled to keep up.
From the stadium, a spectator gasped
"It's like watching a storm fight smoke."
Clipso twisted in the air, coat fluttering behind him, then delivered a clean kick to Alec's blade, pushing him back.
Alec staggered—then vanished into dust.
Clipso clicked his tongue.
"Tch… there he goes again."
His eyes scanned the treetops.
Silence.
A flicker—movement at his side.
ZAP!
Clipso burst a bolt of electricity in that direction—only for it to hit empty air.
Nothing.
Then—
From behind—WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!
Alec appeared, only half solid—his body shifting between dust and form. He moved like smoke, unpredictable and deadly.
His strikes landed in rapid succession—a punch to Clipso's ribs, a kick to his chest, an elbow to his jaw, and a final slam to his back.
Clipso hit the jungle floor hard, dirt and leaves scattering.
"Guh—!"
He slid backward, his coat torn at the shoulder. His eyes flicked up, lips curled in an annoyed smirk.
"Okay… so you are fast."
Up above, Alec hovered mid-air, his expression unreadable behind his silver-gray mask. His form flickered again, slowly dispersing into particles… waiting for the next strike.
Clipso stood tall, dust trailing from his shoulders as he rose from the cratered earth. His breathing was steady. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, now held a glint of confidence.
He pointed his sword to the ground.
"Let's see how you fight when there's nowhere left to hide…"
A surge of energy crackled at his feet.
"First Form: Shattering Storm."
BOOM—
A thunderous burst of wind and lightning erupted from the blade, tearing through the jungle with a violent roar. The very air seemed to scream.
Trees splintered. Vines disintegrated. Leaves scattered into oblivion.
The dense foliage was blown outward in all directions—revealing an enormous, circular clearing, carved into the heart of the jungle like a scar.
What was once a tangled maze was now an open arena of scorched dirt and flickering arcs of static.
The audience watching through crystal projections gasped.
"He's… he's changing the whole terrain!"
Magic casters and arena staff leaned forward.
Even Axel raised an eyebrow from his viewing seat.
In the center of the cleared battlefield, Clipso's blade pulsed with lightning, his hair whipping in the charged air, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm front.
He looked up, locking eyes with Alec, whose dust form now shimmered fully back into visibility.
No more cover.
No more tricks.
His boots kicked up a bit of charred earth as he stood straight, a smirk forming on his face.
"That was flashy…" he said coolly. "But how much mana did it take to blow all that away?"
He tilted his head slightly, eyes sharp.
"You've got to be feeling a little drained by now… right?"
Without waiting for an answer, Alec's tone suddenly shifted—louder, more fierce.
"Spirit Skill: Permeating Dust!"
With that, his body burst apart into a swirl of golden particles. The dust shot forward like a storm wind—surrounding Clipso in a blur of motion.
WHAM—!
A strike landed from the left.
WHACK—!
Another from behind.
CRACK—!
A third from the right.
Clipso twisted and swung, lightning crackling from his blade as he tried to defend—but each strike passed through him.
His sword slashed nothing but air.
"Tch—!" Clipso grunted, eyes darting, trying to find Alec's true body.
The attacks kept coming—relentless and unpredictable. A swarm of phantom blows, all hitting with increasing weight, each one testing Clipso's focus and stamina.
Alec's voice echoed from within the storm of dust:
"What good is your power… if you can't hit me?"
The wind howled around them, crackling with charged mana.
Clipso stumbled slightly, grimacing—not from pain, but from realization.
Alec wasn't just fast.
He was untouchable.
Back in the stadium, the crowd was locked in awe and confusion, their eyes flicking between the massive projection crystal and the live pulse of battle playing out in the sky.
Gasps filled the stands as Alec's dust strikes continued.
"He's overwhelming Clipso!" one spectator shouted.
"That speed… I can barely follow him!"
Others weren't so impressed.
"Tch. He's just running away and hitting from the shadows," someone muttered.
"Yeah, it's clever, but where's the honor in that?"
The voices began to split—half the stadium was on their feet, cheering the ingenuity.
"That's pure strategy! You think a real fight is fair? He's using his advantage!"
While the other half groaned or crossed their arms.
"He's not fighting—he's hiding in dust! That's not real strength."
Even in the royal booth, opinions were divided.
Zeyr leaned forward, brows furrowed, watching closely.
"That spirit skill… it's more than just evasive. He's learned to weaponize his form itself."
Beside him, Syrus gave a slow nod.
"Alec's a tactician. Clipso's going to have to do more than swing wide attacks. He'll need to out-think him."
Meanwhile, the magic commentators spoke over the echoes.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is unlike anything we've seen in this year's royal guard draft. Alec of Team Silver turning the battlefield into a one-man ambush! But will it be enough to take down someone like Clipso…?"
The crowd's noise swelled again as another flash of movement erupted across the crystal—Clipso stumbling back from another hit he couldn't see coming.
Cheers. Jeers. Suspense.
And in the midst of it all—a storm of dust still danced across the jungle field.
Just as the dust storm surged across the battlefield and the crowd roared in divided frenzy—
FWOOOOOM!
A sudden, blinding beam of light descended from the sky—not in the jungle or the mountain, but directly into the center of the stadium itself.
The entire arena fell silent.
Everyone turned.
From the beam, two figures emerged.
Ril, standing tall, his silver armor fractured in places, but his expression composed and unreadable.
And beside him—
Lily.
But not standing.
She was completely encased in crystal—not ice, but pure, refractive crystal, her body suspended mid-air like a flawless statue. Light bent through the prism, casting spectral colors across the arena floor. Her eyes were visible, wide and unmoving behind the transparent shell.
Gasps swept through the audience.
"Is that… crystal?"
"He sealed her?"
"What kind of magic even does that?"
Ril raised his hand.
A quiet snap of his fingers—
CRACK—CRASH!
The crystal coffin shattered like glass under divine pressure, dissolving into shimmering dust. Lily collapsed forward, crashing to her knees and gasping for air, her arms trembling as they caught her fall.
Medics rushed forward, but Ril calmly stepped aside, eyes forward, distant.
The crowd was stunned. No cheers. Just stunned silence.
"The battle between Ril and Lily has… clearly ended," "Ril of Team Silver is the winner!" one of the announcers finally managed.
"Lily was—restrained. Not struck down. That… that was a show of control."
Zeyr narrowed his eyes from the royal box.
"He didn't overwhelm her. He ended it. On his terms."
Lily coughed, chest heaving as her breath returned. Her fingers clawed gently at the stone beneath her as she tried to rise—her pride intact, even as her body shook from the toll.
Ril gave her a look—measured, respectful, final.
Then he turned away.
The projection crystals flickered once more—
And shifted back to the jungle, where Clipso and Alec continued their fight, but now under a different energy.
Two members of Team Pearl were eliminated.
The crowd stirred.
"Can Clipso turn the tide?"
"Or will Pearl fall…?"
The crowd was split—
Eyes bouncing between two colossal duels displayed across the projection crystals above.
On one side:
Helion vs. Draven—a clash of blinding light and unstoppable steel.
Golden radiance met brute force, each strike rattling the mountain terrain as mana flared like storms colliding.
On the other:
Clipso vs. Alec—a spectacle of speed and deception.
Alec's permeating dust blurred through the battlefield in bursts, while Clipso's storm magic howled through the jungle ruins, carving power into every gust and spark.
Two different battles.
Two different energies.
But both pushing toward the same fate:
Victory… or elimination.