[Day 3 of the Tournament – Semi-Finals]

[Location: The Arena Floor]

The boot came down.

The air screamed as the solar mana condensed around Prince Nero's heel, turning it into a guillotine of pure light.

BOOM.

The impact shook the arena floor. Dust and light erupted in a blinding flash.

The crowd gasped, some turning away, expecting to see a crushed skull.

But as the light faded, there was no gore.

There was a barrier.

A shimmering, translucent wall of hexagonal panels hovered inches above Lukas's face.

It was cracking under the pressure of Nero's stomp, spiderwebs of mana spreading across the surface, but it held.

Standing next to the unconscious boy was the Head Referee, a 6th-Order Earth Mage. His hand was raised, trembling slightly from the effort of holding back the Prince's foot.

"Match concluded!" the Referee shouted, sweat beading on his forehead.

"The opponent is unconscious! Cease your attack!"

Nero held his foot there for a second longer, pressing down against the barrier just to prove he could break it if he wanted to. Then, he scoffed.

"Spoilsport," Nero sneered.

He retracted his aura. The oppressive heat vanished instantly.

Nero stepped back, brushing imaginary dust from his white uniform.

He didn't look at Lukas. He looked at the silent crowd.

"Why so quiet?" Nero called out, spreading his arms.

"You came to see strength. I gave you strength."

Two medics rushed onto the field. They lifted Lukas's limp body onto a levitating stretcher.

His hands were blackened claws. His face was a mask of blood.

As they carted him toward the West Tunnel, Nero turned his back.

"Next," he said, bored.

….........

[Location: The West Tunnel]

Alaric stood in the shadows of the tunnel entrance. His hands were gripping the handle of The Anvil so hard that the leather wrapping was tearing.

He watched the medics run past him. He saw Lukas's face.

"He's barely breathing," Alaric choked out. The rage in his chest was a physical thing, hot and suffocating.

"He tried to kill him, Elena! That match was practically torture!."

Alaric took a step toward the arena. "I'm going to rip his head off."

"Stop."

Elena grabbed his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"Let go, Princess," Alaric growled, not looking at her. "I don't care about the tournament. I don't care about the rules."

"If you go out there now," Elena said, her voice trembling but firm,

"you'll disqualify us. Nero wins by default. Is that what you want? For Lukas to suffer for nothing?"

Alaric froze. He looked at her. Elena was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she hadn't wiped them away.

She was staring at the arena with a cold, terrifying intensity.

"Professor Mozart said to make him believe we are broken," Elena whispered. "If you attack him now, you prove we are emotional. You prove we are weak."

She let go of his arm and pointed to the bright light of the arena entrance.

"We have to fight, Alaric. We have to finish the script."

Alaric closed his eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath. The Titan's Capacitor in his chest slowed its rhythm.

"Fine," Alaric rasped. "But when this is over... whether I win or lose... Nero is dead."

….......….

[Location: The Arena Floor]

The blood had been scrubbed from the stones, but the smell of ozone and burnt flesh lingered.

"SEMI-FINAL MATCH TWO!" the Announcer boomed, though his enthusiasm felt forced. The crowd was still reeling from the brutality of the first fight.

"FRIEND VS. FRIEND! TEAMMATE VS. TEAMMATE!"

"ALARIC VS. ELENA!"

They walked out together.

There was no fanfare. No waving. They walked to the center of the ring and stopped ten paces apart.

Alaric looked at Elena. She looked small without the mist to hide her, without the chaos of battle. Just a girl with a monocle and a stained uniform.

Elena looked at Alaric. He looked tired. The giant who had laughed while fighting Jorah was gone.

"Ready, Princess?" Alaric asked softly.

"Ready, Muscle head," Elena replied.

"BEGIN!"

Neither of them moved for a full second.

Then, they exploded.

Alaric launched himself forward. His sword in hand, he held it two-handed like a battering ram.

In an instant, he closed the distance in two strides, faster than a man his size had any right to move.

[Titan Art: Shield Breaker.]

He swung The Anvil in a massive horizontal arc, aiming to knock her out of the ring instantly.

Elena didn't blink. She didn't even try to dodge backward.

She dropped to her knees, sliding under the massive blade. The wind from the swing whipped her hair violently.

As she slid past him, she raised her hand.

[Wind Magic: Vacuum Cutter.]

She created a tiny, concentrated blade of wind pressure and slashed at Alaric's ankle, the only part of him not covered by thick muscle or armor.

SLASH.

Blood sprayed. Alaric grunted, his leg buckling slightly, but he used the momentum of his missed swing to spin around.

He stomped the ground.

BOOM.

The shockwave cracked the stone, sending debris flying toward Elena.

Elena tapped her monocle.

[Light Magic: Flashbang.]

A blinding sphere of light erupted right in Alaric's face.

"Argh!" Alaric roared, squeezing his eyes shut. He was blinded.

Elena didn't hesitate. She knew Alaric. She knew he fought by sound when he couldn't see. She stopped moving her feet to silence her steps.

She channelled mana into both hands.

'I'm sorry, Alaric,' she thought. 'But I promised not to hold back.'

[Dual Art: Solar Wind.]

She combined her affinities. She used wind to create a tunnel, and light to heat the air inside it. It created a beam of superheated plasma.

FWOOSH.

She fired the beam at Alaric's chest.

It hit him dead center.

Unfortunately, Alaric didn't fly back. He dug his heels in.

The beam burned against his skin, searing the leather straps of his armor, scorching his chest. He gritted his teeth, the veins in his neck bulging as he fought the pain.

Holding back the pain, he roared.

"RAAAH!"

Blind, burned, and bleeding, Alaric charged through the beam.

Elena's eyes widened. "What?"

He ignored the damage. He ignored the pain. He reached out with a massive hand and grabbed Elena by the collar of her uniform.

"Gotcha," Alaric growled, his eyes still squeezed shut.

He lifted her up.

Elena panicked. She blasted wind into his face, cutting his cheek, but his grip was iron.

Alaric wound up his other arm. He wasn't going to use the sword. He clenched his fist.

[Titan Art: Sledgehammer.]

He punched her.

He pulled the punch at the last microsecond so it wouldn't kill her, but it still hit with the force of a truck.

POW.

Elena flew. She sailed across the arena, crashing into the dirt and rolling.

The crowd was silent. It was heartbreaking. It was two survivors beating each other bloody because the world gave them no other choice.

In the VIP Box, Damien watched, his knuckles white as he gripped the railing.

"Good," Damien whispered, though his voice sounded hollow. "Show them just how strong class F is!."

He looked at Nero in the opposing box.

Nero was smiling.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.