The arena fell silent. Everyone watched tensely, waiting to see who would make the first move.
I kept my eyes fixed on Samantha. Just by looking at it, I could tell her saber was far from ordinary, but it was impossible to understand its properties from this distance.
Samantha, in turn, didn't take her eyes off me either. More precisely—off my sword and shield. Ever since the moment she saw how calmly Trey had stepped into the arena and walked toward the center as though nothing unusual was happening, an unpleasant feeling had refused to leave her.
Unlike the two of us, Cassandra observed the situation from the side. She didn't understand what exactly was going on between Samantha and me, so she decided not to waste time and launched the first attack.
But the moment she began channeling magic for her spell, chains appeared directly in front of her.
She knew them far too well. Throughout the entire third trial, Cassandra had watched that creature and understood perfectly what it was.
Jumping sharply backward, she raised her staff in front of herself, trying to block the strike.
The instant the chains collided with the shaft, a sharp metallic clang rang throughout the arena, followed by a painful groan. Cassandra was thrown back a full ten steps and crashed heavily onto the ground, struggling to get back up.
Watching that power from the sidelines and receiving its blow personally were two entirely different things. Cassandra understood that especially well now. But even so, she hadn't expected the chains' power to be this monstrous.
The Martyr gave her no time to recover and almost immediately continued its assault.
Rapid metallic impacts once again echoed across the arena. Cassandra slowly began retreating, desperately blocking the relentless barrage. Just as she was about to call Samantha for help, she sharply turned her head in her direction.
The plea forming on her lips froze.
Instead of the usual sight, all she saw was absolute darkness, completely obscuring the place where Samantha and Trey should have been standing only moments ago.
Like the other stufons, Nreu had been watching as the two princesses entered the arena. He couldn't deny that both of them looked enchanting, especially the light elf.
But then something even more astonishing happened. Two enormous screens appeared in the sky, displaying two elven women. They resembled the ones currently standing in the arena.
However, unlike Samantha and Cassandra, these two radiated an entirely different presence. An overwhelming aura of authority and power emanated from them. One look into their eyes was enough to understand—they looked upon everyone around them as though they were nothing more than ants.
Nreu began hearing more and more stufons around him excitedly discussing what they were seeing, calling the two elves almost godlike beings—equally beautiful and terrifyingly powerful.
Lowering his gaze back to the arena, Nreu noticed one of the arches slowly opening, allowing everyone to see whoever was inside.
A half-elf walked out at an unhurried pace. His skin wasn't as dark as that of the dark elves, which gave him a strange sense of incompleteness compared to the purebloods of that race.
He was tall, with black hair tied into a ponytail, dressed in academy uniform. In one hand, the half-elf held a round shield; in the other—a black sword.
As he headed toward the center, the stands gradually quieted, all attention focusing completely on the half-elf walking toward the two elven women.
Nreu could already picture the half-elf losing. Unlike princes and princesses, ordinary members of races rarely managed to endure this kind of pressure—the attention of so many races directed entirely at them.
He expected Trey to throw away his sword at some point or simply drop to his knees and admit defeat. But instead, the half-elf calmly stopped in front of the light elf and merely stared at her in silence.
A few seconds later, the director's voice sounded out, announcing the rules. After briefly asking whether the duelists were ready and receiving their nods, he declared the duel had begun.
Everyone expected the two princesses to launch an immediate attack.
Instead, the spectators watched in surprise as Samantha continued standing still, staring at Trey without even attempting to strike.
When attention shifted to Cassandra, they saw her begin chanting a spell, preparing to attack. But in the very next moment, black chains materialized before her.
Everyone who saw them froze in shock.
Cassandra managed to raise her staff and block the strike, but the force of impact still sent her flying back ten steps. A painful moan escaped her lips, causing many male spectators, regardless of race, to visibly blush.
Still blocking the relentless assault of the chains, Cassandra turned her gaze toward where Samantha should have been.
And froze.
Her face was filled with pure disbelief.
Noticing this, the spectators in the stands also shifted their gazes toward the center of the arena. Almost immediately, their expressions began changing—from surprise to outright disbelief.
The world had not seen this power in a very long time.
But everyone knew what it looked like.
Darkness.
A force that, at this very moment, had completely engulfed the center of the arena.
Many people leapt to their feet, pointing at the arena and stammering as they asked those around them to confirm that what they were seeing was not a mirage.
As she watched the battle begin, the Matriarch couldn't help but consider the possibility that the half-elf before her might be a descendant of one of the previous generations of Matriarchs who had allowed their half-blood offspring to escape.
Unlike humans, dark elves felt not even the slightest sentimentality toward half-elves. To them, such beings were merely byproducts of their own past mistakes and vices.
During the era of the War of Five Races, Matriarchs and Patriarchs often kept concubines capable of bearing half-blood children. However, under dark elf laws, such children had no right to exist and were eliminated.
That was why the very existence of the half-elf now standing in the arena already raised certain questions for her.
Seeing her daughter gradually being pushed back, the Matriarch mentally grimaced in dissatisfaction.
The technique used by the half-elf was indeed impressive, but not nearly as dangerous as others might assume. At least, that was what she believed in the first moment.
But then she noticed where exactly her daughter was looking.
Cassandra's expression rapidly changed, and blatant disbelief became more and more apparent on her face.
Following her gaze, the Matriarch looked there as well.
For the first moment, she thought her vision was playing a cRu'El trick on her.
But even after blinking several times, what she saw did not disappear.
"Impossible!" the Matriarch shouted.
She couldn't care less that her outburst startled both the Queen of the Light Elves and the stufons in the stands. Even though she was present here only through transmission, she infused her voice with so much power that many spectators turned pale, while some even lost consciousness.
The Matriarch stared intently into the darkness, as though hoping that if she looked long enough, what she saw would vanish on its own.
Like most currently living dark elves, she had not lived during the era when their race still possessed darkness magic. For her generation, it was nearly a legend—an echo of a distant past, a lost power spoken of with reverence.
And now, after so many years, right before her eyes, a half-elf was using that very magic.
How could she possibly remain calm?
At that moment, the Matriarch was ready to immediately head to the academy, but the director's voice stopped her.
"Matriarch of the Dark Elves, with all due respect, remain calm. Otherwise, I will be forced to disconnect your transmission," the director's cold, threatening voice sounded out.
He understood the Matriarch's emotions and thoughts perfectly. Just like her, he was completely shocked by what was happening.
"I understand. Please accept my apologies, Director," the Matriarch said, trying to compose herself.
For the first time in her life, she sincerely prayed for her daughter's victory.
The director gave a short nod, accepting her apology, then shifted his gaze back to the arena and the darkness enveloping it.
He had accumulated far too many questions for the young half-elf. But all of them could wait until after the duel.
Samantha stood opposite Trey, still not understanding why he wasn't attacking.
At first, she assumed he was simply evaluating her strength and waiting for the right moment. But after several seconds, she noticed the surroundings gradually becoming darker.
Unwilling to take her eyes off Trey, she still cautiously glanced behind him.
And saw darkness.
Dense, deep, as though devouring the very space behind him.
For a moment, Samantha even thought the excessive concentration was causing her vision to malfunction. What was happening looked that unreal.
Meanwhile, Trey continued staring directly into her eyes in silence.
Samantha tried reading anything at all from his gaze, but the emotions hidden within those eyes remained completely inaccessible to her.
"You're probably wondering why I'm not attacking, aren't you?" Trey said, lowering his shield onto the ground and leaving only the sword in his hands.
Samantha gave a short nod, expecting him to reveal at least part of his plan and thereby give her and Cassandra a better chance to resist him.
"Unlike you and Cassandra, I can't demonstrate my swordsmanship style to everyone watching this fight. And it's not because it's some secret technique or anything like that," Trey continued calmly, as if already predicting her thoughts and cutting off unnecessary assumptions.
"Then why?" Samantha asked hesitantly. The uncertainty in her voice was so obvious that not only he noticed it, but she herself did as well.
"Because if someone sees this style, too many questions will appear. And for now, I want to hide who I really am," Trey answered with unexpected sadness.
Samantha stared at him in confusion.
Seeing that expression on her face, Trey merely smiled sadly.
"After the battle, I'll introduce myself. And yes, what's behind me isn't a mirage. You can look around. I won't attack for two seconds," he said mysteriously, that strange sorrow still lingering in his voice.
It was difficult for Samantha to believe his words, but curiosity won out.
She cautiously began turning her head, careful not to let Trey leave her field of vision.
And what she saw literally paralyzed her.
There was only endless darkness around them.
Boundless, thick, devouring all space. Only the two of them stood within it, as though severed from the rest of the world.
"Two seconds are over. I could strike you right now and win, but you wouldn't accept such a defeat and would definitely demand a rematch," Trey said, taking the sheath in one hand and the sword in the other, lowering the blade downward.
Samantha felt even more irritation rising within her.
He wasn't treating her as an equal opponent.
Since there was already almost no distance between them, there was no need to close in further.
With a sharp slash from left to right aimed at his chest, Samantha attacked.
But her strike was met by the sheath.
Almost at the same instant, Trey's blade shot upward in a sharp motion, aiming directly at her emblem.
Trying to pull back the shoulder where her emblem was located, Samantha hurriedly began chanting a spell, stumbling over the incantation and losing most of the runes.
Instead of six wind blades, only one formed.
Launching it toward Trey's legs, she sharply jumped backward. Trey's sword passed dangerously close to her chest, leaving a disturbing trail in the air.
Why does his fighting style feel so familiar?