Fate practically yelled into the mic, voice cracking with excitent:
"HE’S GOING IN HOT! ARLON IS CHARGING WITH ENOUGH FIRE TO COOK A DRAGON!"
Arlon shot forward like a living fireball, spear glowing bright red, heat blasting out in waves.
Zenith didn’t panic.
He didn’t even flinch.
He just aid the thin line of light in his hand.
Drear spoke in her calm, bored tone,
"Impact in three seconds."
Arlon roared,
"IGNITION—STRIKE!!"
He brought the flaming spear down with all his strength.
The arena floor sizzled under the heat.
Zenith moved his hand.
One clean, simple motion.
A slash of light—thin, straight, and unbelievably fast.
SHHKK—!
The two attacks t.
BOOOOM!!
A shockwave blasted across the arena, knocking dust and debris everywhere. People in the front rows had to cover their faces.
Rhys held his breath.
"Did... did Zenith stop that?"
Puddle squinted through the dust.
"Yes. Like cutting a vegetable."
When the smoke cleared, the crowd gasped.
Arlon stood frozen, his spear stopped mid-swing.
A tiny line of light was cut across the ground—straight, perfect, and glowing.
Zenith’s voice was calm.
"Your fire is impressive. But wild fire burns out fast."
Arlon’s eyes widened.
"...Then I just need hotter fire!"
He jumped back and lifted his spear again, flas bursting brighter and higher than before.
"It’s not over, Zenith!"
Fate shouted,
"OH CO ON! THAT LAST ATTACK SHOULD HAVE BROKEN THE ARENA IN HALF—AND ARLON JUST WANTS MORE?! THIS GUY RUNS ON PURE ADRENALINE!"
Drear sighed.
"Soone please remind the repair team to take a break after this."
Arlon spun his spear overhead, gathering fire into a huge blazing orb.
Zenith lifted his hand again, light gathering around him like a calm glow.
Rhys leaned forward, gripping the railing.
"...This is insane. They’re not even using their strongest attacks yet."
Puddle nodded sadly.
"Master will suffer next year."
"Thanks for the support."
"No problem."
Arlon roared,
"ZENITH!! LET’S FINISH THIS!"
Zenith nodded once.
"Agreed."
Arlon slamd his foot down, the entire stage shaking under the pressure.
The huge fire orb above him shrank for a mont—then tightened, burning hotter and brighter, turning almost white.
Fate nearly swallowed the microphone.
"HE’S COMPRESSING THE FIRE! WHY?! WHO TAUGHT HIM THIS?!"
Drear answered flatly,
"He learned it by blowing up three training rooms."
Arlon pointed the super-heated fire orb at Zenith.
"TAKE THIS! SUN CORE LANCE!!"
He threw the attack forward.
The fire orb stretched into a giant spear of white-hot flas, tearing through the air like a teor.
The heat hit the audience even before the attack reached Zenith.
Rhys gasped.
"That’s... way too strong!"
Puddle nodded, patting his arm.
"Yes. If master was there, he would beco toast."
"Puddle—STOP HELPING LIKE THAT."
Zenith didn’t look scared.
Not even slightly.
He lowered his stance, placing his hand on the glowing line of light still floating near him.
Light condensed instantly, turning into a long blade of pure radiance.
"Rayline—Full Draw," he said quietly.
He swung.
Not fast.
Not dramatic.
Just clean.
Precise.
A straight line of light shot forward, sharp enough to cut through anything in its way.
FWIP—
The mont Zenith’s attack touched Arlon’s Sun Core Lance—
BOOOOOOM!!!
The fire spear exploded in the air, flas bursting outward like a small sun.
People in the audience scread and ducked.
The protective barriers flickered under the impact.
When the fire settled, a huge slice of the attack was gone—cut cleanly down the middle.
Arlon stared, stunned.
"...He cut that too?"
Zenith approached, calm as ever, holding his light blade.
"You are powerful," Zenith said.
"But you lose this round."
Before Arlon could react, Zenith’s blade tapped the ground.
A thin line of light raced forward—
ZING—!
—and stopped just in front of Arlon’s feet.
Arlon froze.
Because if Zenith had pushed even an inch more, that line would’ve sliced him in half.
The arena went silent.
Drear raised her mic.
"Match—"
Fate jumped in, screaming,
"—OVER!! ZENITH WINS THE FINAL MATCH!!"
The stadium exploded in cheers.
Arlon dropped to his knees, laughing breathlessly.
"...Damn. You’re a monster."
Zenith helped him up.
"You fought well."
Up in the stands, Rhys swallowed hard.
Puddle whispered,
"Master... next year, you fight both."
Rhys paled.
"...I’m not ready."
"Nope."
But he still clenched his fists.
"Still... I’ll catch up. No matter what."
The cheering didn’t stop for a long ti.
Players jumped, shouted, waved flags—everyone celebrating the end of the tournant.
Finally, the announcers returned to the center platform.
Fate cleared his throat dramatically.
"AND NOW—THE FINAL RANKINGS!"
Drear tapped her clipboard.
"They are based on match performance, points, technique scores, and... surviving."
Rhys stiffened.
"Wait. Why did she say that last part like it was aid at ?"
Puddle patted his arm.
"Master almost died four tis. Very impressive."
"That is NOT a category!!"
A giant hologram lit up above the arena:
1st Place: Zenith
2nd Place: Arlon
3rd Place: Rhys
Rhys blinked.
"...Wait. WHAT?"
Puddle gasped.
"Master got bronze! Amazing! Shockingly amazing! Very confusing!"
Fate explained loudly,
"THANKS TO HIS CONSISTENT PERFORMANCE, HIGH MATCH SCORES, AND RIDICULOUS LUCK—RHYS SHO-U-L-D HAVE BEEN DEAD TWICE, BUT HE WON ANYWAY—HE TAKES THIRD PLACE!"
Drear added calmly,
"He also beat opponents above his level and even terrified the healers with his magical stamina. That increased his technical score."
Rhys covered his face.
"...I don’t know if I should be proud or embarrassed."
Puddle whispered,
"Be proud. Embarrassed later."
The crowd cheered again as the ranking boards flashed.
Zenith and Arlon walked to Rhys.
Arlon slapped him on the back—hard enough to make him stumble.
"Congrats! Third place is no joke!"
Rhys wheezed,
"T-Thank you—don’t break my spine—"
Zenith nodded politely.
"You fought well."
Rhys blinked at him.
"You literally sliced a supernova in half."
Zenith blinked once.
"...Yes."
Puddle puffed up proudly next to Rhys.
"Master will beat both next year."
Zenith and Arlon both froze.
Arlon raised a brow.
"...Your spirit beast is... confident."
Puddle nodded.
"Yes. Very much. Master is small but dangerous."
"I’M RIGHT HERE," Rhys said.
Fate yelled again,
"AND NOW—PRIZES WILL BE DISTRIBUTED! EVERYONE RETURN TO THE ARENA PLATFORM!"
Rhys gulped.
"...Oh boy. Here we go."
Puddle grinned.
"Master shiny reward incoming."
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