"The winner of the 24th round is Jacob from Univara Academy."

"The winner of the 25th round is Samantha from Altura Academy."

One announcement after another echoed through the arena, yet no true clash had occurred for some time. Tension buzzed among the spectators—whispers of doubt growing louder with each passing round. Had the thrill of battle vanished entirely?

Finally, on the 26th round, the silence broke.

"Numbers 26, make your way to the stage!" Judge Berto's crisp voice rang out.

Two young women swiftly stepped on the arena, their eyes locking with each other.

One was Greta, draped in deep blue, her long black hair flowing behind her as she gripped a bow with practiced ease—a proud representative from the Univara Academy.

Opposite her stood Sophie, clad in red with short blond hair, holding a rapier in her right hand. She was from the Quarath Academy, which had only four students advance to the third segment—by far the fewest among the four academies. In stark contrast, Univara boasted nine participants at this point, highlighting the disparity between the two schools.

If not for Elric and Neve—two unexpected surprises—Quarath Academy would've become the laughingstock of this tournament. Their appearances followed by their performances had revived hope in a team nearly written off, sparing the academy from public humiliation. That looming reputation would've stung—enough that some students and even instructors might have quietly considered leaving for one of the other three academies.

In a way, Elric and Neve had unknowingly pulled Quarath back from the edge of failure.

On the stage, Greta grinned, a playful glint in her eyes "Quickly surrender so I can get back to my seat."

Sophie furrowed her brows "Why would I do that?"

"Isn't it obvious? To spare you some pain—and save me some time."

Sophie's fingers tightened subtly around her rapier's hilt, a flicker of tension crossing her face. But she exhaled, steadying herself and, calmly, drew her blade from its sheath. She said nothing more, her silence now speaking louder than words.

Seeing her opponent remain silent, Greta snorted in amusement. She drew an arrow from her quiver, casually spinning it between her fingers before nocking it with practiced ease.

Judge Berto cleared his throat and firmly said "You may begin."

The words had barely settled in the minds of the spectators when an arrow was already slicing through the air toward Sophie. Her eyes widened—her pupils narrowing into pinpoints of focus—as the threat registered.

With a graceful sidestep, she evaded the arrow, then pushed off the ground with force, launching herself forward in a blur.

Her mind only had one thought. She needed to close the distance—and fast.

Greta smirked and taunted, loosing another arrow without hesitation "You think I haven't trained against other close-combat people?"

Then another. And another.

Each shot was calculated, aimed at Sophie's limbs—not to kill, but to disable. A single hit could tilt the fight irreversibly in Greta's favor.

Sophie knew it. That's why she pressed on, her rapier flashing with precision. Some arrows she sliced mid-flight, the steel tip clanging against her blade. Others she twisted around, dodging by inches as she continued her rapid advance.

It was a deadly dance—speed against range, grace against precision—and neither was giving an inch.

"I would've loved to see General Adira go up against that Greta," Elric muttered to himself, eyes fixed on the intense match playing out on stage.

Neve, overhearing him, gave a short nod. "That girl wouldn't have lasted more than a few seconds against our general."

Elric shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe. But if General Adira had kept slacking off… who knows? Greta might've actually had a shot."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Neve narrowed her eyes at him. "Why would you say something like that? Are you tired of living?"

He chuckled, unbothered. "What are you so worried about? She's not here."

Achoo!

Darius glanced over. "What's wrong, Adira? Did you catch a cold?" he asked, eyes still fixed on Nox, who was silently creeping up on a creature that looked like a cross between a tiger and a bear.

Rubbing her nose, Adira muttered, "Someone must be bad-mouthing me. If I find out who it is, I'll turn them into my new target dummy."

Darius chuckled as he started walking toward Nox, who stood several meters away with his dagger buried deep in the beast's neck. "Come on. Nox is almost done—we need to get back to the city."

"Fiiine" Adira sighed, trailing after him.

A faint jolt ran down Elric's spine—but just as quickly as it came, it vanished. Am I imagining things? he wondered, shaking his head to clear the feeling.

He turned his attention back to the stage, just as Sophie finally closed the distance between her and Greta.

Sophie moved with fluid precision, her rapier flickering like silver lightning. Several of her thrusts grazed Greta, drawing shallow cuts. But the duel was far from one-sided—two of Greta's arrows had struck Sophie, leaving her with bleeding wounds. Fortunately, neither had hit any vital point.

Pressed by Sophie's relentless advance, Greta began to falter. In a desperate gamble, she nocked two arrows at once and loosed them in a quick, snapping motion—one aimed to strike, the other meant to distract.

Sophie's instincts screamed. She dodged hard to the side, narrowly evading the first arrow—but the second buried itself into her left leg.

She gasped, drawing in a sharp breath, pain flaring through her limb. Gritting her teeth, she locked eyes with Greta, who stood across from her wearing a smug smile and already reaching for another arrow.

Sophie's eyes flicked to the quiver slung across Greta's back—and her heart skipped a beat. Only two arrows remained.

Fighting the urge to smile at the realization, she gritted her teeth and carefully pulled the arrow from her leg. Every movement was deliberate as she began to close the distance, slow and steady, toward her opponent.

Just two arrows left—the one now in her hand, and the last in her quiver. After that... I'll win.

Her gaze sharpened to a razor's edge, analyzing every twitch and shift in Greta's stance. She sought to anticipate where the next shot would be aimed at and every sign from her opponent body could be used to guess the trajectory.

Greta, meanwhile, had been aiming for several long seconds, searching for the perfect target. A faint, almost cruel smile curled at her lips as she whispered, "Die."

Then, with a sudden release, the arrow sprang from the bowstring.

WOOOOSH

Sophie's eyes never left Greta as the arrow screamed past—whistling just inches above her head, brushing a few strands of hair aside. She crouched instinctively, heart pounding, then sprang back up, gasping for air as adrenaline surged through her veins. One more… just one more.

Greta snorted, plucking another arrow from her quiver without noticing how dangerously low her supply had dwindled. She nocked it hastily, a flicker of impatience crossing her face.

But Sophie knew—this was the last arrow.

She began to circle Greta, slowly. At first, the movement was barely perceptible, but the circle tightened steadily, shrinking with each step, drawing closer and closer to her opponent.

Greta smirked, loosening the arrow and sending it flying toward Sophie, who had just completed another tight circle around her.

I've won, Greta thought, eyes gleaming as she watched the arrow streak toward Sophie.

Sophie's gaze locked onto the incoming projectile. Realizing she'd closed the distance too much—and that the arrow was too fast to dodge—she clenched her teeth, her left fist tightening with resolve.

Now or never.

With a sudden burst, she sprang from her spot, charging straight at Greta.

Thunk

The arrow pierced Sophie's stomach with terrifying ease, halting her steps for a split second. But then, fueled by sheer determination, she surged forward again, closing the distance on Greta—who still wore that confident smile, certain of her victory.

That smile, though, soon faltered—and then twisted into fury—as Sophie didn't die, she only drew closer. Greta's hand darted toward her quiver, desperate to draw another arrow and finish the fight once and for all.

But there was no arrow left.

Her eyes, still fixed on Sophie, trembled with panic. A cold sweat trickled down her back as her face drained of color.

Frozen by fear, Greta could only watch as Sophie's rapier thrust forward, piercing her stomach. In one fluid, merciless motion, the blade was pulled free and immediately plunged into her right arm.

Sophie didn't stop at that. Her rapier struck again—piercing both of Greta's legs with swift, precise thrusts. Moments later, Greta collapsed to the arena floor, her knees hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Her consciousness flickered, fading in and out.

Standing over her, Sophie breathed heavily, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth as she pressed a hand to her wounded stomach. Calm, she spoke softly, "Your seat… is in the spectators' stand."

Then, with a weary thud, Sophie collapsed beside her.

Judge Berto rushed forward, followed closely by two medic teams—this time fully prepared for any emergency.

After confirming that both participants were still breathing, he exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. Then, raising his voice for the crowd, he declared, "The winner of this round is Sophie from Quarath Academy!"

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