[Day 3 of the Tournament – Semi-Finals]

[Location: The Arena Floor]

"MEDIC! WE NEED A MEDIC NOW!"

The Referee's scream broke the stunned silence of the stadium.

Elena was still clinging to Alaric's unconscious body, her fingers dug into his scorched shoulder.

She was conscious, but only just. Her eyes were glazed over, staring at nothing, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.

The air around them was still shimmering with residual heat. The crater beneath their feet was glowing cherry-red.

A team of high-ranking healers rushed onto the field, their white robes flapping in the hot wind.

They easily floated, using wind magic to cross the debris field instantly.

"Stabilize him!" the Lead Healer barked.

"His heart rate is erratic! The backlash almost stopped his heart!"

Two healers grabbed Alaric. They tried to pull him away from Elena.

"No..." Elena wheezed, her grip tightening despite her blackened arm.

"Don't... take him..."

"Let go, child," the Lead Healer said gently, prying her fingers loose.

"He needs immediate stabilization. You burned 40% of his skin."

Elena's hand slipped. She watched helplessly as they levitated Alaric onto a stretcher. His massive frame looked small, broken, and defeated.

"I..." Elena whispered, a tear cutting through the soot on her face. "I'm sorry..."

She tried to take a step toward him, but her legs gave out. She collapsed, caught just in time by another healer.

"Get her to the prep room," the Lead Healer ordered.

"Give her a Maximum-Grade Mana Potion and a Pain Block. She has the Final Match in twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" one of the younger healers gasped, looking at Elena's charred arm. "Sir, she can't fight! Look at her arm! It's nerve damage! She needs surgery!"

"The Prince is waiting," the Lead Healer said grimly, looking up at the VIP box where Nero was watching with a cruel smile.

"If she doesn't walk out there, she forfeits. Do what you can."

…..........…..

[Location: The Medical Bay – VIP Section]

BANG.

The reinforced glass of the observation window shuddered.

"Let me out!" Alaric roared, slamming his uninjured fist against the pane.

He had woken up the moment the Healing Potions hit his system. His chest was wrapped in thick bandages.

His skin was slathered in cooling salve. He had three broken ribs and a concussion. But the pain in his body was nothing compared to the panic in his chest.

Two healers were trying to hold him back with magical restraints.

"Student Alaric, please!" one of the healers shouted, her wand glowing white.

"Your internal organs are bruised! If you keep moving, you will bleed internally!"

"I don't care!" Alaric bellowed, tearing one of the magical tethers like it was a spiderweb. "LOOK AT HER!"

He pointed a trembling finger at the arena below.

Down there, the rubble had been cleared by Earth Mages. The floor was pristine again.

But Elena wasn't.

She was walking out of the West Tunnel. She was limping. Her right arm, the one that had thrown the Supernova was wrapped in a magical cast, useless at her side.

Her face was pale, drained of all blood.

She looked like a ghost walking to her own funeral.

From the East Tunnel, Prince Nero emerged. He looked perfect. His uniform was spotless.

His cape fluttered in the wind. He didn't look like a contestant; he looked like an executioner arriving for work.

Alaric smashed his forehead against the glass.

"Get up, Princess," he whispered, tears mixing with the sweat on his face.

"Please... just forfeit. Don't fight him."

…................…..

[Location: The Arena Floor]

The air in the stadium was heavy. It was hard to breathe.

It wasn't because of smoke or dust. It was because of Authority.

Prince Nero stood in the center of the ring. He hadn't moved a single step since the match began. He hadn't drawn a weapon. He hadn't even cast a named spell.

He was simply releasing his mana.

[Sun Authority: Gravity of the Crown.]

Elena was twenty meters away, on her hands and knees. She was trembling violently.

It felt like a mountain had been placed on her shoulders. The gravity around her was magnified ten times over.

"Stand up," Nero commanded softly.

Elena gritted her teeth. She forced her mana into her legs. She pushed against the crushing weight.

"I..." Elena wheezed. "I am... standing."

She managed to get to one knee. Then, shaking uncontrollably, she forced herself upright.

Nero looked disappointed.

"Why do you struggle?" Nero asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Lukas was a commoner. He fought because he was desperate. But you? You are a Solari, a high elf. You should know when you are outmatched."

Nero took one step forward.

BOOM.

The pressure doubled.

CRACK.

Elena's left shin bone fractured under the stress.

"AHHH!"

She screamed, collapsing back to the ground. She tried to catch herself, but her arms were too heavy. Her face hit the dirt.

"Pathetic," Nero sighed.

He walked toward her. He didn't rush. He walked with the casual elegance of a man inspecting a garden.

"Your family used to be strong," Nero lectured, his voice amplified so the silent crowd could hear every word.

"The High Elves ruled the dawn. But look at you now."

He stopped in front of her prone form.

"You cling to your old spells. You cling to your 'Royalty.' But you forget why the Elves fell."

Nero raised his foot and placed it gently on Elena's hand, the one holding the shard of her shattered Photon Lens.

"You fell because you were too proud to change."

He pressed down.

CRUNCH.

He didn't break the glass. He broke her fingers.

Elena choked on a scream, her vision going white. She tried to pull her hand away, but Nero kept his boot planted.

"Yield," Nero said boredly. "Save your dignity. Or what's left of it."

Elena lay there, her cheek pressed against the cold stone. She could hear the crowd murmuring.

They weren't cheering for Nero. They were horrified. They were watching a torture session, not a match.

'I can't yield,' Elena thought, the pain threatening to drag her into unconsciousness.

'If I yield, he wins. If I yield, Alaric's sacrifice meant nothing.'

She tried to summon wind. She tried to summon light. But under the crushing weight of Nero's Sun Aura, her mana felt sluggish.

It was like trying to light a candle in a hurricane.

"Not yielding?" Nero clicked his tongue. "Very well."

He kicked her in the ribs.

Loud enough for the microphones to pick up the snap.

Elena rolled across the ground, coughing up blood. She landed near the edge of the arena barrier.

She looked up at the VIP box. She saw the blurry shape of her mother, the disgraced Lord Solari, watching. her had his head in his hands.

She looked at the Med Bay window. She saw Alaric smashing his fists against the glass, screaming her name.

"See?" Nero called out, spreading his arms to the audience. "This is Class F. They have tricks. They have heart. But in the face of the Sun, they simply... melt."

Nero turned his back on her, walking back to the center of the ring.

"Referee," Nero said. "Call it. She can't stand."

The Referee hovered down, looking at Elena's broken form. He raised his hand to end the match.

"Winner..."

"No."

The word was a whisper, but it cut through the silence.

Nero stopped. He turned around slowly.

Elena was moving.

Her hand, the one with the broken fingers was clawing into the dirt. She dragged herself forward. Inch by inch.

However this time, she wasn't using magic to stand. She was using the wall.

She grabbed the jagged stone of the barrier and hauled herself up, her legs shaking, blood dripping from her chin.

She stood. Crooked. Broken. Weeping blood. But standing.

Nero's eyes narrowed. The boredom vanished, replaced by a flicker of irritation.

"Stay down," Nero ordered, his voice dropping an octave. "You are ruining the aesthetic."

"You talk too much," Elena rasped, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the pristine white floor.

She reached into her pocket pulling out a shard of glass. A jagged piece of her broken Photon Lens that she had salvaged from the rubble of her previous fight.

She gripped it so tight it cut her palm.

"You said Elves fell because we were too proud," Elena whispered, her eyes burning with a terrifying, desperate light.

She took a step forward, limping.

"You're right."

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