He collapsed fully, unconscious, sprawled across the sand.

The crowd erupted into a deafening cheer, a mixture of awe, fear, and exhilaration. Every spectator felt the magnitude of the clash, the clash of human skill versus raw, godlike power. The air itself seemed charged, humming with tension as the two warriors' struggle lingered in memory, impossible to forget.

Even as the cheering raged, the truth was clear: Fenva's strength was beyond reckoning, and Zevric… Zevric had given everything he had, yet it still wasn't enough.

"Wow… that was an outstanding match, everyone!" the announcer's voice thundered across the arena, his tone filled with excitement as the echoes rolled through the grand coliseum. The crowd cheered and stamped their feet, the sound like rumbling thunder. "Now then… for the next match — something you've all been waiting for!"

The audience went silent almost instantly, anticipation thick in the air. "In this next round… Sela!" the announcer shouted, his voice rising with the crowd's roar. "Versus… Celia!"

The noise exploded. Chants of both names filled the stands as the emissary raised a hand for quiet. "Sela, Celia — step to the back of the arena!"

Down below, Celia rose from her seat, her long hair glinting in the sunlight. Nolan, sitting beside her, looked at her calmly. "Be careful out there, Celia," he said, his voice steady.

"I will, Master," Celia replied softly, then turned toward the tunnel. Her boots echoed against the stone floor as she walked through the dim hallway — and there, standing at the far end, was Sela.

Sela crossed her arms and smirked. "So you actually came. I thought you might've chickened out."

Celia stopped in front of her, eyes steady. "Why would I? I'm not the one who's going to lose."

Sela's smirk widened. "We'll see about that."

"Yeah," Celia replied coldly, "we will."

"Step into the ring, Sela!" the emissary's voice boomed again.

Sela tilted her head, cracked her neck, and stepped forward. The massive steel gate before her slid open with a heavy rumble. A flood of light burst in, and the crowd erupted as she appeared in the arena. She walked with confident strides, her aura flaring faintly around her like a red mist.

Then, she raised her hand — her inventory box shimmered, and a massive greatsword materialized in her grasp. The crowd gasped as she swung it once, the air itself splitting with a sharp whoosh. Sand rippled outward from the force of the swing.

"Standing before you now," the announcer shouted, "a warrior known for unmatched brute strength and resilience — the unbreakable fighter, Sela!"

The crowd roared even louder, chanting her name.

Then, the second gate began to rise. "And her challenger," the announcer continued, his voice full of energy, "the mage-warrior who has proven herself time and again with perfect grace and precision — Celia!"

Celia stepped out from the tunnel, her expression calm but focused. Her silver hair flowed behind her as her cape fluttered gently in the breeze. She walked slowly, each step steady and sure, her eyes locked on Sela's. The crowd erupted again, louder than before.

Now both women stood in the center of the arena, facing one another. The ground between them seemed to hum with energy — the tension was electric, almost visible.

Neither spoke.

Neither blinked.

The crowd fell silent, as if the entire arena itself was holding its breath.

This wasn't just another match.

It was pride against pride.

"May the match begin!" the emissary shouted.

The entire coliseum began to shake from the energy radiating between the two fighters. In an instant, both Sela and Celia dashed forward, sand exploding beneath their feet.

Celia's eyes burned bright as she activated her White Phoenix Flame skill. Her sword ignited with a blinding white fire that spiraled up its blade like living wings. The aura around her shimmered, and her power began to surge.

At the same moment, Sela's body began to change — her muscles thickened, veins glowed faintly under her skin, and her fists radiated dense energy. The ground trembled under her steps as she charged forward, each stride like the pound of a war drum.

Both women roared as they met in the center of the arena. Celia's flaming sword clashed against Sela's iron fist, the collision sending a massive shockwave through the air. The crowd gasped as the impact pushed both of them backward, sparks and embers scattering like rain.

"What's going on?" Celia thought, her hands trembling against the sword's hilt. "I can't cut through her. The blade's touching her skin… but it won't pierce. How—?"

On the other side, Sela gritted her teeth, her arm straining from the pressure. "Impossible. I used my full strength! That should have sent anyone flying! My skin is reinforced by the Indestructible Body Technique — no sword can pierce it!"

Both women broke the clash, sliding back across the arena floor. Then they charged again. Celia swung her sword in a blur, the white flames trailing behind her like streaks of light.

Sela's punch came like thunder, but Celia dodged at the last second, twisting her body midair, and countered — slash after slash, her strikes hammering against Sela's side. Sparks flew, bits of cloth tore, but Sela's skin remained untouched.

"Nothing… not even a scratch," Celia whispered under her breath, frustration rising. "Is this pointless? No. Master said if I keep striking, I can reach her. I just haven't unleashed my true potential yet. If I bring it out… I can cut through anything."

She tightened her grip, breathing heavily as Sela rushed toward her again.

"What are you thinking about?" Sela shouted, her voice echoing like a war cry. "Why are you fighting me like you're holding back?"

Her fist came down with brutal force. Celia rolled aside, spinning with precision, and kicked the side of Sela's arm, deflecting the punch and sending the massive woman stumbling slightly to her left.

Celia used that opening — she raised her sword high and brought it down in a clean, vertical strike. Sela crossed her arms just in time, blocking it. The air cracked like lightning, and the crowd gasped as the two were pushed apart once more.

Sela stepped back, pain flickering across her face for the first time. Celia saw it — that tiny sign. "Good," she thought. "She felt that. But it's still not enough. Not yet."

Sela straightened, her fists tightening. "You're strong," she admitted under her breath. "But I still believe no woman is stronger than me. Still… this kind of power you have… it's something else entirely."

She inhaled sharply, then smiled. "I'll test your strength with everything I've got."

Celia exhaled slowly and raised her sword once more. The blade shimmered — then vanished into white flame, its essence fusing with her body. Her entire figure now burned with pure light, white energy rippling around her like a living storm.

The crowd went silent as she took a single step forward. The sand beneath her feet melted.

Sela frowned, watching her. "What is she doing? Is she… about to fight me hand-to-hand?"

Up in the stands, Nolan leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Wait… Celia—she's planning to trade blows?"

Beside him, Linda nodded, her tone serious. "Yes. But the difference in strength… it's enormous."

"This is what they call weight classes. People of the same size—it's okay if they trade punches. But it's different when people of different weight classes trade punches. You shouldn't do that. There's a big difference in size between her and Sela," Nolan said.

Lyra said, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Nolan looked at her. "What do you mean?"

Lyra said, "Master, since you transferred a very small percentage of your mana to her, her power drastically increased. She's actually strong—don't underestimate her. You haven't seen her actual punch yet. I'm sure you can tell. But not only that, when it comes to strength, she has what it takes to stand her ground and trade punches."

"Master," Lyra said softly, "I hope what you said is true, because if it is, I'll be happy."

"But let's watch and see," Nolan said.

Everyone suddenly went quiet, eyes fixed on the arena. The entire audience froze—no one made a sound. All attention was on Celia and Sela as they stared each other down in the center of the arena.

Then Sela pulled her massive arm back, muscles tightening, ready to throw her punch. Celia mirrored her, drawing her arm back with equal intensity. For a brief moment, the air between them trembled.

Then—BOOM!

Their fists collided, each strike landing cleanly across the other's face. Celia's punch smashed into Sela's cheek, while Sela's fist slammed into Celia's jaw at the same time. The ground trembled under the shockwave.

Again—BOOM! BOOM!

Each punch met with another, neither willing to step back.

"Wait… what's going on?" the announcer said, eyes wide. "How is Celia able to keep up? She's supposed to be a swordsman—yet she's matching Sela blow for blow in close combat. That's… incredible!"

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