The echoes of the previous match had not fully faded.
Yet slowly—
the atmosphere within the Caelora Grand Colosseum tightened once more.
Quieter.
Heavier.
As if everyone… was waiting for something different.
⸻
Glowing letters formed in the sky.
Elara vs Lurk, Prince of Sisilia
⸻
Arena
Lurk stepped in first.
His stride was light—but the pressure around him felt heavy.
His gaze locked instantly onto one figure.
Elara.
⸻
Elara followed.
Calm as ever.
No hesitation.
No rush.
⸻
For a brief moment—
no one moved.
⸻
GONG!
⸻
Without delay—
Lurk raised his hand.
"Forge Arsenal."
⸻
Dozens of weapons formed in the air.
Blades.
Spears.
Chains.
⸻
"Crush."
⸻
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
⸻
A relentless storm of weapons descended.
⸻
But—
within that barrage—
a gentle light appeared.
⸻
Elara stood still.
Around her—
Light Shield Magic formed.
⸻
Every weapon that approached—
was deflected.
Redirected.
Or stopped just short of contact.
⸻
The crowd fell silent.
⸻
"…it's not breaking?"
⸻
Lurk frowned.
His hand moved again.
⸻
The weapons merged—
forming a massive blade.
⸻
He leapt.
"Fall."
⸻
BOOOOM!!!
⸻
The impact shook the arena.
⸻
Yet—
the light remained.
Unbroken.
Unshaken.
⸻
Lurk landed.
His breathing began to strain.
⸻
Without pause—
a massive chain swept sideways.
⸻
CLANG!!
⸻
Blocked.
⸻
CLANG!!
⸻
Deflected.
⸻
Elara barely moved.
Only enough.
Always enough.
⸻
"…you're forcing it too much."
⸻
Her voice was soft.
But clear.
⸻
"Shut up."
⸻
Lurk's aura surged.
⸻
All weapons in the air trembled.
⸻
Then—
merged.
⸻
A massive structure formed.
⸻
A cannon.
⸻
Stands
The crowd rose instantly.
"WHAT IS THAT?!"
"IT'S HUGE!"
"THAT'LL DESTROY THE ARENA!"
⸻
Council Balcony
Gorion stood up immediately.
"Hey—that's dangerous!"
⸻
Beside him—
Helmir remained seated.
Calm.
"Relax."
"If he fires—my roots will shield the girl."
⸻
Western Stands
Sylveras stood abruptly.
"Elara, move!!"
⸻
Brant blinked in shock.
"What?! It's that dangerous?!"
⸻
Sylveras' gaze sharpened.
"That's a massive mana flow—"
"That shield won't be enough!"
⸻
🏟️ Arena
The cannon aimed forward.
Smoke began to rise from its barrel.
The light within it intensified.
Dense.
Vibrating.
As if it would explode at any moment.
⸻
The crowd shouted:
"FIRE IT!!"
"FINISH IT!!"
⸻
But—
Elara did not step back.
⸻
She closed her eyes for a brief moment.
⸻
Within that silence—
she felt it.
The light.
⸻
Not the kind that burns.
Not the kind that destroys.
⸻
The kind that… calms.
⸻
Her eyes opened.
⸻
"Lumen Cascade."
⸻
A thin beam of light shot forward.
Fast.
Straight.
⸻
Then—
it reflected.
⸻
From a blade.
To a spear.
To a chain.
⸻
Each object it touched—
froze.
⸻
The reflection continued—
toward a single point.
⸻
Lurk's armored foot.
⸻
"…what—?"
⸻
A cold sensation spread from his leg.
⸻
Then—
the light reflected again.
Upward.
Into the cannon's structure.
⸻
For a moment—
nothing happened.
⸻
Then—
the vibration stopped.
⸻
The light inside the cannon dimmed.
⸻
And went out.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
"…why didn't he fire?"
⸻
"…what just happened?"
⸻
Someone pointed.
"Wait—there!"
⸻
At the base of the cannon—
a small point was visible.
⸻
The trigger point.
⸻
Its energy—
frozen.
⸻
"…she shut down the source?!"
"WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?!"
⸻
Lurk's eyes widened.
⸻
He tried to force his mana again—
⸻
But nothing responded.
⸻
His balance faltered.
⸻
The cannon—
collapsed.
⸻
And vanished.
⸻
Along with every weapon in the air.
⸻
Silence.
⸻
Elara stepped forward.
⸻
Calm.
⸻
"That's enough."
⸻
Light gathered in her hand—
forming a spear of light.
⸻
She threw it.
⸻
WHOOSH!
⸻
Precise.
⸻
It pierced Lurk's shoulder.
⸻
"GH—!"
⸻
His body staggered.
His balance broke.
⸻
He tried to stand—
⸻
But—
his legs gave out.
⸻
He fell.
⸻
Still.
⸻
GONG!
⸻
"Winner: Elara!"
⸻
Silence.
For a moment.
⸻
Then—
APPLAUSE ERUPTED
"ELARAAA!!"
"THAT WAS INSANE!!"
"WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"
⸻
Council Balcony
Neravos watched intently.
"…she didn't destroy it."
"…she understood it."
⸻
Beside him—
Fenrath Moongrim wasn't watching the arena.
His gaze moved elsewhere.
⸻
"…still here."
⸻
🏟️ Arena
Lurk lay on the ground.
His breathing heavy.
Empty.
⸻
But inside—
something began to crack.
⸻
Slowly.
⸻
Unseen.
⸻
Elara turned away.
No celebration.
⸻
Her steps were light.
Calm.
⸻
As if the battle…
had never shaken her at all.
⸻
And yet—
the real storm…
had yet to begin.