Time passed.
The duels pressed onward like the relentless beat of war drums. After Reks's thunderous victory against Garran Thorne, the bracket accelerated. Matches blurred together—some savage, some brilliant, others forgettable. But in the center of the storm, three names carved their way upward.
Kael Ardyn. Laziel Quent. Reks Valorin.
The trio advanced like a rising tide.
Match Thirty-Seven.Kael faced a spear-wielding Core-type adept who relied on resonance strikes. Kael didn't let the spear touch him. Not once. He weaved through the blows and subdued his opponent with raw mana precision—his shadow clone snapping the spear in two.
Match Thirty-Eight.Laziel dismantled an illusion-caster in seconds. His wind mana sliced through the false images, his hoverboard trails marking perfect geometry in the air. The duel was so swift the announcer barely had time to call it.
Match Thirty-Nine.Reks, against a twin-blade prodigy who matched him strike for strike…until he stopped pulling punches. Reks's fists began to hum—a deep, earthy frequency that reverberated through the floor. His final punch shattered the air around them and sent the opponent flying across the barrier.
One by one, they pushed through the Top 64. Then Top 32.
Victories mounted. The crowd noticed. Whispers turned to cheers.
"That's Ardyn.""Quent's flawless.""Valorin fights like he's already Ascendant."
No longer just rising names—they were targets.
And yet, none of them were the talk of the Round of 16.
She was.
Match Sixty-Four – Round of 16
Aurielle Vael vs. Korran Vurn
The arena dimmed. The runes around the edge pulsed a soft gold.
A figure stepped onto the platform, and the audience held its breath.
Aurielle Vael.
She was ethereal.
Tall. Slender. Graceful in a way that felt unreal. Silvery-white hair flowed like starlight over one shoulder, her uniform tailored in layered blue-gold trims. Her skin had the faintest glow of radiant mana control, and her gaze—sharp, ice-blue—betrayed the fierce intellect within.
Whispers flooded the stands.
"That's her."
"Five affinities."
"78% control."
Opposite her stood Korran Vurn, a Drakarian. Towering. Crimson-scaled along his arms and jaw, with horns swept back and eyes like molten coals. Lava and Smoke mana burned around him—his very breath shimmered with heatwaves.
The tension snapped into silence.
DING.
Korran charged first. No hesitation.
Lava jets erupted beneath his feet, launching him like a meteor. He came down with a hammerfist wreathed in magma.
Aurielle didn't move.
Phase Step.
A ripple shimmered beneath her boots. She flickered an instant to the side, wind and void mana twisting around her frame like strands of shadow-laced silk. The blow struck empty stone.
Her hand flicked outward.
Water Blades. Lightning Arc.
Twin spells—one a spiraling edge of compressed water, the other a high-frequency bolt. They struck from different angles—one slashing across his forearm, the other tagging his side and convulsing the lava armor around his torso.
Korran growled, spinning mid-air. He exhaled a wave of Smoke Veil, thick and acidic, veiling the arena in sulfurous fog. Lava jets erupted in a ring—turning the battlefield into a molten death trap.
Still, Aurielle didn't panic.
Ice Field. Wind Spiral.
She raised one hand, a halo of snowburst forming in her palm. A burst of chilled wind scattered the smoke outward, revealing the lava pits below. Then—
Void Pulse.
A pulse of silent energy warped the space around her. A ripple of black-violet mana blinked the immediate surroundings into stillness—mana flows stuttered, Korran's spells flickering like dying flames.
The lava flow twisted unnaturally, sucked into small distortions—vanishing into collapsing pockets of nothing. The temperature plummeted. The arena groaned under the shift in pressure.
Above, Korran roared, conjuring a magma-forged axe and diving with savage momentum.
Aurielle exhaled.
She drew her fingers into a silent seal.
Void Step.
She blinked—literally vanished—a split-second phase that bypassed both light and matter. Reappearing behind him, inverted.
And then:
Wind Lance. Ice Spike. Lightning Burst.
All at once.
The triple-element burst struck like a stormfront—one severing his trajectory, another freezing his back, and the last erupting in a pulse that sent him spiraling downward.
BOOM.
He slammed into the platform, crater forming under the impact.
The runes blinked.
DING.
"Winner: Aurielle Vael."
Silence.
Then, thunder.
The arena exploded with cheers. A standing ovation from all four wings. Even instructors in the upper observation seats leaned forward, eyes narrowed in thought.
She didn't bow. She didn't smile.
She walked off the platform like she had only completed a routine.
Observation Deck – Student Zone
Kael leaned forward slightly, arms crossed.
"She's…" Reks began, unable to finish.
Laziel whistled. "Well. Looks like someone broke the curve."
Kael said nothing for a long moment. Then, a quiet murmur:
"She's not just gifted. She's trained."
They all watched her go—Aurielle Vael, the untouchable.
"She's dangerous," Kael added.
Laziel cracked his knuckles. "You thinking of fighting her?"
Kael's eyes narrowed. "If it comes to that."
But deep in Kael's gut, a strange feeling brewed. Not threat. Not rivalry.
Recognition.
She reminded him of something… or someone. Someone long ago, from a life that had ended.
But there was no time to dwell.
Because soon…
they'd face her.