The crowd gasped as the aftermath of Seraphine's strike settled into silence.Some people clutched the rails of the upper stands, whispering in awe, while others leaned forward, trying to piece together what had just happened. Only a handful had truly seen it.Avin was one of them.

His eyes followed his sister as she stood in the center of the arena, unshaken. He could still feel the hum of divine mana vibrating in the air like a low, invisible current.Seeing her use that power — the gift of their bloodline, the birthright the original Avin had been told he'd never possess — made something in his chest tighten. A dull, restrained burn.It wasn't anger, not exactly. It was a quiet, gnawing ache buried behind composure.

The arena floor was now clear.Teams Six and Eight were gone — wiped out in a single instant.Only Team Five and Team Seven remained.

The air trembled. The dust hadn't even settled before the two God-folk on opposite sides turned to face one another.

Seraphine lowered her head slightly. The God-folk knight of Team Five mirrored her instantly.Both hands on their hilts.Knees bent.The sound of metal sliding free cut through the murmuring crowd.

And then—

Whoosh!

They vanished.

Even with Avin's crimson eyes fully active, he couldn't see how it happened. The movement was so fast it erased itself, the mana trail collapsing into nothingness.Then, with the blink of an eye, both reappeared — but swapped places.

Seraphine now stood amidst Team Five.The knight was surrounded by Team Seven.

The crowd gasped again, following too late.

Two of Team Five's members collapsed instantly.At the exact same time, two of Team Seven's fell where they stood.

The symmetry was uncanny.

Team Five was now down to three — the noble swordsman, the hovering mage, and the cloaked figure whose shadow wavered with each movement.

Seraphine exhaled lightly and sheathed her rapier again. She adjusted her stance, that familiar precision sliding back into her posture like second nature.Above her, the floating mage tensed. Fear flickered across their face. Their hands began to tremble.

They knew what was coming.

Seraphine drew in a sharp breath and half-pulled her blade from its sheath — a faint hiss of metal against metal.Instantly, the entire battlefield shimmered.A translucent crimson dome expanded outward from her position, enclosing Team Five in a perfect sphere.

The air within the sphere thickened, vibrating faintly.Every color bled into red — the arena, the sky, even the mage's blue robes now dripping in scarlet light.The crowd leaned forward, hushed, as the distortion of mana hummed in the air like a heartbeat.

And then—

Crack!

The sphere shattered.

Fragments of red light splintered and fell like glass.Seraphine's eyes widened.The mage above her was no longer trembling. Their fear had vanished, replaced by an unsettling calm.

"We know what you can do," they said, voice echoing faintly in the heavy air.

The mage lifted both arms high above their head, hovering higher, mana coalescing into bright spirals around them. Symbols spun in intricate rotation, forming a massive circle overhead. The circle pulsed with dark blue light — layered magic, designed to counter divine arts.

Seraphine's expression hardened. Her eyes tracked the rapid formation, each new rune snapping into existence like puzzle pieces. She bent her knees slightly, body tensing to spring.

She didn't get the chance.

The remaining swordsman from Team Five lunged at her flank, aiming for her throat.His blade whistled through the air — fast, clean.She turned her wrist at the last moment, spinning out of reach with the grace of flowing water. The sound of steel slicing air brushed past her ear.

In the same movement, she twisted and drew.Her rapier flashed silver-red as she slashed behind her — a perfect counter to an unseen strike.

But—

CLANG!

A jarring impact rang through the coliseum. Sparks scattered across the ground.

The swordsman had turned mid-motion and blocked her.Too fast.Faster than even she expected.

He grinned beneath his breath, his voice low and rough:"Mud Skipper's Sword Art—Instant Movement."

The name of the technique echoed faintly in the crowd.Avin's brow furrowed. He recognized it — an ancient style known for unpredictable short-range bursts.

The swordsman and Seraphine pulled back at once, circling.Her rapier hummed, the air around its edge warping slightly. She moved first, a blur of red, but her blade met nothing.

He was gone again.

"Behind—" Eira's voice cut through the noise from the stands, but it was too late.Seraphine turned just in time to see the glint of his sword descending toward her skull.

She planted her foot firmly and stomped.

Boom!

A shockwave burst outward, a ring of compressed air sweeping in every direction. Dust exploded off the floor. The swordsman was thrown back several meters, sliding across the ground, his boots scraping deep lines into the stone before he stopped.

He steadied himself, sword driven into the floor to keep balance.Seraphine looked up.

The mage had nearly finished their spell.Above, the circle had become a roaring storm of symbols. The heat of the forming spell could be felt even in the spectator stands.

She looked back down.The swordsman was charging again.

She drew in a breath and took a single, deliberate step backward — the motion calm, measured.Her rapier clicked back into its sheath.

The stance.The stance.

The crowd murmured. Even the swordsman faltered mid-swing, eyes widening. He recognized it. Everyone did.

The moment stretched thin.

But what came wasn't what anyone expected.

She didn't freeze time.

She sprinted forward.

A blur of crimson and wind.The swordsman barely managed to lift his blade, but the motion was too slow. Seraphine's rapier pierced through the gap in his armor, sliding between metal plates. The blade grazed his skin — a clean, controlled cut.

He gasped, stepping back on unsteady feet.Pain blurred his vision.

Before he could recover, Seraphine slammed her heel into the ground again.

The air detonated.

The gust knocked him off his remaining footing, launching him backward. He tumbled helplessly before crashing off the edge of the platform.

The crowd erupted in a chorus of gasps and awe.

Seraphine straightened, her breath steady. The faintest strand of her red hair brushed across her cheek as she exhaled.

Then—

"It is your end now," a voice called from above.

She lifted her gaze. The floating mage hovered high in the air, the massive circle above him burning bright orange now. It roared with condensed energy, and within it—Rocks.Massive, molten boulders, spinning and crackling with heat, each large enough to shatter the platform if it struck.

Seraphine tightened her grip on her rapier and whispered, "This won't work this time."

The mage's voice cracked like thunder."Let's see you stop this!"

The boulders descended—A blazing storm falling straight for her.

But Seraphine didn't move.

Instead, her lips parted, and in a calm, clear voice she spoke:

"O Domine Temporis, concede mihi potestatem super quod est, fuit, et erit."

The words rolled out like a wave of authority, ancient and absolute.A red light erupted around her — not bright, but deep, like liquid sunset. It pulsed outward, spreading over the incoming boulders.

Time itself stilled.The rocks hung suspended mid-descent, flames frozen in place like threads of glass. The mage above was caught mid-expression, eyes wide, mouth open.

Then, the reversal began.

The boulders trembled, then rose back toward the circle.The magic formation began to rewind, symbols collapsing inward, energy uncoiling back into its source.

The light faded from the mage's eyes as his body was pulled backward — his flight path reversing, dragging him down to where he had been seconds before.

And there, waiting at that exact spot, stood Seraphine.

The spell unraveled completely.The magic circle shattered into dust.

The mage hit the ground hard, disoriented, breathing fast. His hands shook as he looked up.Seraphine stepped forward slowly, calm as ever. The sound of her boots on stone echoed in the silence.

He began crawling backward, eyes wide, whispering nonsense as panic took hold.

She stopped. Her expression didn't change.

Another stomp.Another shockwave.

Boom!

The mage was thrown off the stage, his scream fading as the announcer's voice thundered again:

"TEAM FIVE—ELIMINATED!"

The crowd erupted. Applause, shouts, disbelief — the coliseum trembled with sound.

Seraphine exhaled quietly, lowering her blade. But then, from across the platform, a voice broke through the roar.

"No teamwork?"

She turned.

The God-folk knight stood alone among the wreckage of bodies. Every one of his teammates lay unconscious. He rested both hands on the hilt of his sword, which was stabbed deep into the cracked ground before him.His posture was casual. Confident. Almost amused.

Seraphine tilted her head slightly. "No teamwork?"

He smirked. "Thor's sons don't do teamwork."

The crowd went silent.

The two God-folk stood alone on the shattered platform, red light from the setting sun bleeding over their weapons.The air between them thickened again — two divine presences locking, the world itself holding its breath.

And as the tension built, Avin leaned forward from the stands, the burn in his chest deepening.

The real fight hadn't even started yet.

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