Sora's body trembled.
Her fingers twitched violently at her sides, nails scraping against damp earth as if the ground itself were trying to pull her under. The battlefield smelled of rain and sweat, churned mud and cracked stone. The roar of the crowd swelled around her—but it sounded distant, muffled, like she was sinking underwater.
Her gaze drifted downward.
Mud.
Scattered, wet, waiting.
Her body jerked back as if struck by an idea rather than a blow. Both hands shot forward, sweeping left to right in a flowing motion. The mud answered.
It lifted.
It stretched.
It rose.
Shapeless clumps pulled themselves upright, thickening, bulking, forming torsos and limbs. Faces without features. Shoulders without bones. Mud golems stood from the battlefield, dripping and shifting like living clay.
Her feet shook violently beneath her, but she didn't stop.
Across from her, Chella's stone constructs surged forward.
The crowd erupted—cheers, screams, curses, belief and doubt crashing together into noise—as golems collided.
Stone smashed into mud.
Mud splattered across rock.
A dozen battles erupted at once. Heavy fists cracked ribs of stone. Jagged arms tore through soft bodies of clay. The ground quaked beneath the frenzy.
Sora dashed forward—then—
Her body failed her.
She dropped to one knee.
Blood streamed from her left eye, sliding down her cheek and dripping into the dirt. Her breathing thinned. Each inhale scraped her throat. Each heartbeat thudded slower… heavier… until drawing air felt like lifting a mountain.
Mixing elements was still too much for her body.
But she had done it.
A blur moved.
Chella.
She shot forward, barely visible to the naked eye, leaping high into the air. Her silhouette cut across the sky as her leg chambered for a devastating kick aimed straight at Sora's head.
Pain screamed from Sora's bleeding eye. It throbbed, pulsed, distorted her vision. But through the blur, she saw movement.
Her mind screamed louder than her body.
What would Yamato do?
Chella's leg sliced down.
Sora rolled at the last possible second. The kick split the air where her skull had been.
She came up twisting—her right fist surging forward.
Water wrapped around her hand, compressing, hardening—
CRACK!
The punch slammed into Chella's ribs. The force sent a shockwave through her body. Chella's feet skidded backward across the battlefield.
She tightened her jaw and spat blood into the dirt.
He needs to like her more… she's going this hard just for him.
Behind them, the golems continued their violent exchange.
Stone hammered down again and again—but with every shattered section of mud, the clay slid back into place, reshaping, reforming, sealing itself whole again.
The stone golems didn't share that blessing.
Broken limbs stayed broken.
Cracked torsos crumbled.
Sora saw it.
And she pushed forward.
She closed the distance, becoming the offense.
Her fist struck Chella's temple.
Her knee drove into her chest.
Another blow landed on her ribs.
Mud splashed around their feet as Sora pressed her advantage. A wild smile crept across her face. Her golems were overwhelming the stone ones.
The battlefield was tilting.
Shifting.
Chella staggered backward, forced into defense. But her eyes weren't on Sora.
They flicked sideways.
One mud golem lagged behind the others.
It took longer to reform.
A crack remained too long.
Chella narrowed her eyes.
She allowed Sora's next punch to land.
And caught her wrists.
Their forearms strained against each other, muscles trembling. Chella's gaze never left the struggling golem.
Then she saw it.
A gleaming brown orb buried within its chest.
The core.
She inhaled sharply and snapped her free hand backward. A pebble-sized stone compressed at her fingertips—then shot forward like a bullet.
It pierced the orb.
The golem froze mid-motion.
Then collapsed into a lifeless heap.
Understanding flooded Chella's eyes.
She shifted instantly. Her stone golems changed targets, their strikes now aimed precisely at the glowing cores buried within mud chests.
One by one—
Shatter.
Collapse.
Shatter.
Collapse.
Sora wrenched free and drove her knee into Chella's torso, kicking her away. Chella skidded across broken earth before rising to her feet.
Breathing heavy.
Wiping blood from her lip.
"Sora," she said quietly, almost incredulously. "After all my training… I never thought I'd be losing to you."
Her fingers curled into tight fists.
"I'll have to do it."
The air changed.
Clouds rolled inward from nowhere, spiraling overhead. Light dimmed. The wind sharpened. Chella's body began to glow with a deep, earthen radiance.
From the spectator seat, Headmaster Regns leaned forward in his seat, eyes narrowing.
"Using this now, huh…"
Beside him, Ozaki leaned back lazily, rolling his eyes.
"Sora… what will you do?"
The crowd lost composure.
"Sora, forfeit!"
"Chella, stop!"
"Block with mud!"
"Move!"
Their voices tangled into chaos.
Sora glanced toward the stands.
Yamato stood still.
Calm.
Silent.
Why isn't he saying anything?
Chella's voice rang clear across the battlefield.
"God Form: Form 1… Dis-Enchanted Blade."
The ground trembled.
Every remaining stone golem screeched as if metal scraped against metal. Their bodies elongated, sharpened, refined—
Blades.
Massive stone blades.
They launched forward in unison, piercing through the mud golems' cores with brutal precision.
One after another—
The mud constructs splattered lifelessly to the ground.
Sora's pulse thundered in her ears.
Chella raised her hands.
The dozens of blades lifted into the air, condensing—compressing—shrinking inward until only one remained.
A single, perfectly forged blade.
Thin.
Elegant.
Terrifying.
Sora slid across the slick mud toward the battlefield's center and dropped low, pressing her palm into the splattered clay.
The ground responded.
Mud slithered toward her hand from every direction, gathering, concentrating, compressing—
A blade formed in her grip.
Jagged.
Imperfect.
But solid.
She forced water through the clay, hardening it to its absolute limit. The mixture solidified into something sharper. Denser.
A weapon born from desperation.
She rushed in first.
Her blade swung.
Chella dodged cleanly—
—but her jaw snapped sideways as Sora's fist followed through.
Blood sprayed from Chella's mouth.
Chella retaliated instantly, her divine blade cutting down. But Sora moved lightly—almost weightless—her feet barely touching the ground. She stepped onto Chella's blade mid-swing and leapt off it, twisting through the air.
She landed behind her.
Chella staggered, blood dripping from her chin.
Sora surged forward again, swinging both blade and fist in coordinated rhythm.
But Chella moved ahead of her—two thoughts faster.
She twisted her wrist and caught Sora's blade at an angle, applying crushing pressure.
Crack.
Fractures spidered across the stone weapon.
Then it shattered in Chella's hand.
Sora froze for half a second.
Did her grip just break it?
Chella swung.
Sora instinctively raised what remained of the blade, but Chella drove her elbow down onto it, then slammed the shattered handle into Sora's ribs.
The impact forced air from Sora's lungs in a violent cough.
Still—
She punched.
Fragments of the broken mud blade trembled on the ground.
Then rose.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
They shot past Sora, circling Chella from behind.
The pieces snapped back together mid-air, reconstructing their jagged form—
And crashed down toward Chella's back in a clean, decisive strike.