"Great reflexes from Rhys," Drear observed. "He’s reading Maxwell’s movents surprisingly well."
Fate nodded. "But Maxwell’s speed advantage is no joke. Once he starts chaining his lightning dashes, Rhys is going to have a harder ti keeping up."
Almost on cue, Maxwell vanished in a flash—Lightning Step—reappearing behind Rhys with a burst of heat. A surge of fla spiraled along his sword.
"Here cos the pressure—!"
Maxwell swung.
But Rhys had already anticipated it. He twisted, Mana Shield blooming around him in a thin, translucent arc. Maxwell’s flaming strike crashed into it with a loud crack, but it held—barely.
Puddle made her move.
A golden ripple spread from her small form—Gleaming Halo—coating Rhys in a soft radiant glow.
"He’s reinforcing already?" Drear blinked. "That’s early."
"Smart though," Fate replied. "Maxwell hits hard. Better to stabilize now than regret it later."
Rhys didn’t waste the extra protection.
He lunged forward, blade trailing a twisting stream of water—Water Jet Slash—forcing Maxwell to jump back as the ground split with the impact.
Maxwell grinned. "Nice! Try this!"
He slamd his foot down, a ring of flas erupting outward—Blazing Pulse.
The blast rolled across the arena.
Rhys crossed his arms, Puddle hovering above him as she released Aqua Veil. A soft blue barrier ford, absorbing most of the heat—but the force still pushed Rhys back several ters, boots skidding against the stone.
"Oof, that one landed," Drear winced. "Rhys’s defense is holding, but Maxwell’s fire output is rising."
"Look at Maxwell," Fate pointed. "He’s layering fire and lightning at once. That’s tough to counter—unless Rhys starts mixing his own elents more aggressively."
Down in the arena, the two swordsn paused for a split second, both catching their breath.
Maxwell twirled his sword, eyes excited. "Not bad, Rhys! I was worried you’d play too safe."
Rhys smirked. "Please. I haven’t even used my good stuff yet."
Fate laughed softly. "Oh boy. That’s the kind of line that gets the crowd going."
Drear leaned closer to the mic. "And the kind of line that usually ans soone is about to do sothing reckless."
The crowd roared with anticipation.
Maxwell raised his sword, electricity and fire beginning to coil tightly around him—his aura sharpening like a blade.
Rhys lowered his stance, mana thrumming through him. Multi-elent energy crackled along his sword, the colors shifting rapidly.
Puddle floated behind him, tiny hands glowing with both light and dark mana.
Fate inhaled. "Here cos the next exchange."
Drear grinned. "And it’s going to be big."
Maxwell blurred forward first.
A streak of lightning tore across the arena, his figure flickering in and out of visibility as he chained Lightning Step three tis in rapid succession. Each movent left a crackling afterimage behind him.
"Here we go—Maxwell’s speed mode," Drear announced. "If Rhys can’t track him here, the round could tilt fast."
But Rhys didn’t panic.
His eyes narrowed.
Mana surged.
Wind swirled sharply around his boots—Swift Cut stance—augnting his reaction ti and footwork. His sword glead with layered elents, the colors folding seamlessly into each other.
Maxwell appeared on Rhys’s left.
Flas spiraled.
Lightning crackled.
His sword cut down with terrifying force—
—and Rhys pivoted, parrying at the last possible mont, sparks flying as the blades clashed.
"Ohhh, clean read!" Fate shouted. "Rhys predicted the left-side reentry!"
Maxwell didn’t give him ti to breathe.
He spun, using the recoil of the clash to launch a Fla Burst Kick, heat rippling off the blow.
Rhys ducked, sliding across the floor in a controlled skid.
Puddle’s voice rang sharply, "Light Bullets!"
Five tiny orbs of light burst from her hands, streaking toward Maxwell.
Maxwell sliced them apart midair, but each explosion forced him to halt his montum.
"A clever interruption," Drear comnted. "Puddle’s keeping him from chaining too much pressure."
Rhys seized the opening.
He thrust his sword forward, chanting under his breath—
"Fireball."
A concentrated, red-hot sphere blasted out, but rather than firing straight, Rhys curved it slightly with a controlled wind push.
Maxwell blinked. "Huh?!"
The Fireball veered—
—and slamd into his flank.
A small explosion rocked him sideways.
The crowd erupted.
"He used wind to curve it!" Fate shouted. "That’s advanced control for his level!"
Maxwell gritted his teeth, sliding back with smoke curling from his uniform.
Then he laughed.
A bright, exhilarated sound.
"Okay, Rhys... I see you!"
His lightning flared brighter—veins of blue crawling up his arms.
His sword ignited, fire spiraling upward like a mini-tornado.
Drear exhaled slowly. "Oh wow... he’s starting to combine them fully."
"This is his specialty," Fate said. "Lightning speed, fire power—rged into one burst technique."
Down in the arena, Maxwell pointed his sword forward.
"Let’s see if you can keep up!"
Lightning exploded outward.
Fire wrapped around his legs.
And he vanished—
—only to reappear right beside Rhys with a blow so fast the sound arrived late.
Rhys blocked—but the sheer impact sent him sliding back, boots carving lines into the arena floor.
Puddle began forming another spell, dark tendrils coiling in her palms.
Rhys steadied himself, blade glowing fiercely.
Both fighters’ auras surged—
one with fire and thunder,
the other with twisting, multi-colored mana guided by a small ancient beast.
Fate leaned in. "They’re both powering up. This match is entering its peak."
Drear nodded, eyes fixed on the arena. "One decisive exchange could flip everything."
Maxwell extended his blade.
Rhys raised his.
Puddle’s wings of light unfurled.
The air thickened with mana.
The crowd held its breath.
A crack of thunder split the air as both fighters launched forward at the sa ti.
Maxwell’s body blurred, lightning snapping from point to point as he closed the distance. The arena floor scorched beneath his steps, each one leaving a brief trail of fla.
Rhys t him head-on.
Their blades collided with a shriek of tal and mana, the shockwave rippling across the arena and forcing the front rows to shield their eyes.
"Massive clash!" Fate shouted over the roar. "Both of them put everything into that one!"
Neither pushed back. Neither relented.
The two swordsn broke apart in a burst of sparks—then imdiately collided again.
Maxwell swung horizontally, flas curling around his blade.
Rhys countered, water mana coating his sword in a flowing arc.
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