The thunderous roar inside the Colosseum of Caelora showed no signs of fading.
Thousands of spectators had risen from their seats, their eyes locked onto the arena now divided by two opposing elemental forces. On one side, cold vapor spread across the marble floor like creeping mist. On the other, violent winds howled through the stadium, their sharp whistles piercing the ears of everyone present. The pressure of mana released within the arena was so immense that the colossal magical barrier surrounding the colosseum repeatedly flashed with brilliant blue light, straining to contain the overflowing energy.
Prince Noah of Aquaris stood firmly within the veil of water he had created himself.
The calm expression he usually wore had sharpened into one of absolute concentration.
In his grasp, the royal trident had completely transformed. Through the technique known as Abyssal Sword, the weapon had condensed an enormous mass of water until its color deepened into a dark navy blue—so dark it was almost black. Every swing of the watery blade split the air with terrifying weight, as though it possessed enough force to cleave apart mountains themselves.
The ocean, usually serene and tranquil, was now revealing its deepest and most destructive face.
Standing opposite him, Rossie Thayne—the girl who looked no older than a child yet carried the composure of a seasoned veteran—showed not the slightest trace of fear.
Around her, four small luminous spirits moved in impossible synchronization.
Zephyra, the elegant primary wind spirit.
Whiri, swift and unpredictable.
Sylffy, gentle yet steadfast.
And Vento, fierce and sharp with violent currents of mana.
Together, they formed Aerial Sanctum: Fourfold Zephyr—a multilayered dome of rotating winds that shattered every incoming wave of Noah's attacks before they could even brush against Rossie's clothes.
"You truly are full of surprises, Rossie," Noah said, his voice echoing amidst the clash of water and wind. "Very few mages can endure the pressure of Abyssal Tide this early in a match... yet you've already forced me to use Abyssal Sword."
Rossie brushed dust from her cheek and gave a faint smile.
"That one million Gurtz prize is awfully tempting, Your Highness. I can't let you take it without a proper fight."
Noah gave no reply.
He lunged forward with astonishing speed despite the massive weight of his blade.
A vertical slash descended.
Whiri immediately propelled Rossie sideways while Vento unleashed a burst of reverse pressure to disrupt Noah's footing. Mana exploded violently as Noah's water blade struck the arena floor, creating a massive crater and sending freezing waves surging in every direction.
Rossie did not hesitate.
Using Zephyra's power, she leapt into the air and hovered for a brief instant.
With a single motion of her hand, she unleashed Rushing Gale—hundreds of compressed wind blades slicing toward Noah at blinding speed.
Noah spun the Abyssal Sword in response, forming a rotating shield of water that swallowed every single blade whole.
This battle was no longer merely a contest of strength.
It had become a war of endurance and precise mana control.
From the spectator stands, Sylveras watched every movement with bated breath. Sitting beside him was Brant, who appeared strangely calm even though his eyes never once left his younger sister inside the arena.
"Noah's technique is incredibly stable," Sylveras muttered quietly. "He's conserving mana by reusing the water already spread across the battlefield, while Rossie has to continuously spend mana to maintain all four spirits at once. If this drags on much longer…"
Brant slowly nodded, his normally relaxed expression now serious.
"Rossie knows that. She's searching for a single decisive opening before her mana runs dry. The problem is… Noah isn't giving her one."
Back in the arena, Rossie realized she was gradually being cornered.
So she made her decision.
The four spirits suddenly gathered at the tip of her finger, merging into a single point of brilliant green light.
"One attack, Prince! Let's see which of us is truly stronger!"
"Gale Nova!"
A concentrated explosion of wind erupted forward, tearing across the arena with such force that chunks of marble were dragged along in its wake.
Noah instantly recognized the danger.
He thrust the Abyssal Sword into the ground and chanted his final spell.
"Abyssal Heart: Deep Sea Lock."
At once, all the water flooding the arena from their previous clashes rose violently into the air.
But instead of colliding against Rossie's storm head-on, the water transformed into gigantic chains emerging from every direction, locking Rossie's movements in midair.
Her Gale Nova still struck Noah directly, engulfing him in a massive cloud of steam, yet the prince endured by relying on the remnants of Abyssal Tide for protection.
Rossie gasped for breath.
The heavy water chains bound not only her body but also weighed upon her like crushing gravity itself. Breathing became difficult.
One by one, her wind spirits faded into tiny particles of light, returning to the spirit realm as Rossie no longer possessed enough strength to sustain their contracts.
The steam slowly dispersed.
Noah remained standing.
His clothes were torn apart, and a deep slash marked his shoulder, but he still held his watery blade firmly.
He pointed its tip toward the now-defeated Rossie.
The sound of the gong thundered throughout the Colosseum, breaking the silence that had briefly fallen over the crowd.
"Winner: Noah of Aquaris!"
The audience erupted instantly into deafening cheers.
Noah's name echoed from every corner of the stadium.
He released his magic, allowing Rossie to descend gently onto the arena floor before walking toward her and offering his hand.
Rossie accepted it with a weary smile.
"You were incredible, Rossie," Noah said sincerely. "I've never been pushed this far by a wind user before."
Rossie let out a weak laugh, coughing lightly afterward.
"Yeah, yeah… the ocean really is too deep to be blown away. Save the compliments, Prince. Just make sure you win the finals so my loss won't be meaningless."
Amid the roaring celebration of Noah's victory, something strange unfolded elsewhere within the Colosseum.
Arven, the lightning mage defeated earlier by Elara, stood silently within a dark corridor leading toward the waiting chambers. His face was pale.
His gaze fixed upon the upper stands, where a tall man cloaked in gray stood motionless.
Moments earlier, during the climax of Noah and Rossie's duel, the entire magical broadcasting system of Caelora had gone dark for several seconds.
Almost nobody noticed.
The interruption had lasted only an instant—quick as lightning itself.
Only the mage technicians realized something had happened.
But Arven knew exactly who was responsible.
His master had delivered a silent warning.
The disgrace of Arven's defeat was not meant to be witnessed any further by the outside world.
The gray-cloaked man vanished in an instant, leaving Arven trembling in fear of the punishment awaiting him upon his return to Voltryn.
Meanwhile, upon the balcony reserved for the Sage Council, Fenrath Moongrim did not rise to applaud Noah's victory.
His nose twitched subtly while his sharp eyes scanned the crowd below.
As a lycanthrope, his senses far surpassed those of ordinary humans.
Amidst the scent of sweat, dust, and fresh water vapor, he caught something else.
Something faint.
Something horrifying.
"That scent…" Fenrath muttered, his hand tightening around the balcony railing. "A demon. And it's very close."
Sage Gorion, standing nearby, glanced toward him with an unreadable expression.
"Something troubling you, Fenrath?"
"Something is infiltrating this place, Gorion. I can feel it. Amidst all this cheering… there are eyes watching us with intentions far darker than simply winning an examination."
Gorion merely turned his gaze back toward the arena—toward Elara, who had begun walking toward the battlefield in preparation for the final match.
"The world is changing, Fenrath," Gorion said quietly. "And perhaps this examination… is only the beginning of the real storm to come."
Above the arena, the magical announcement board shifted once more, displaying the final match awaited by every kingdom across Urtz.
FINAL ROUND: ELARA VS NOAH
The afternoon sunlight stretched across the marble arena, casting long shadows over the battlefield that would soon determine who would inherit the long-vacant title of Sage.
Elara stepped forward, gripping her staff tightly.
Upon her shoulders rested not only the hopes of her small village—
—but also the future of a world slowly being swallowed by mystery and darkness.