The second semifinal had begun—but it didn't feel like a mere match.
No, what unfolded in the arena felt like two war generals testing blades, not two boys of twelve.
Julian Reinhart moved first, spear blazing in his hand. The tip arced in a horizontal sweep, splitting the wind as it aimed for Veylan's chest.
But Veylan Drakmore met it without a shred of hesitation.
Clang!
His sword met the strike with a perfectly timed counter. His sword didn't just block—it slithered like a serpent, sliding along the shaft of Julian's spear, threatening to bite closer and closer to his hands.
Julian's eyes narrowed.
He pulled back just in time and flicked his spear down—countered with precision, not brute strength.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A furious exchange followed. The spear lashed. The sword replied. Their weapons collided again and again, neither yielding ground. Their footwork became a blur, legs twisting, heels spinning, steps slamming against the stone platform like drumbeats in a war song.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
These weren't just strikes.
These were refined, masterful attacks layered with years of practice.
Then, suddenly—
Wham!
A sharp kick came from Veylan—low and brutal—slamming into the side of Julian's face. His head jerked. The audience flinched.
Julian had been focused on Veylan's sword. That foot caught him off guard.
He stumbled—but didn't fall.
Veylan smirked. "Focus." His voice was deep, calm.
Then, with a sudden pulse of mana, Veylan leapt back, gathering wind beneath his feet. His body shimmered as he activated his B-Rank Spell: Gale Step.
He became the wind.
In a streak of speed, he surged forward again, sword trailing behind him, but now wreathed in sharp, slicing wind. The currents screamed as they spun around the steel blade.
He slashed with it—a crescent of air tearing forward like a blade wave.
Julian twisted midair and spun his spear like a wheel, striking the gale and dispelling it in a shockwave of magic wind and crimson sparks.
Then Julian lowered his stance. His spear began to glow—not faintly, but fully.
His aura had ignited.
A thick, radiant crimson bloomed from the shaft and rippled to the blade tip, illuminating the entire side of the battlefield. His Crimson Spear Aura, a result of mastering both martial art and elemental mana, roared to life.
"Let's get serious."
Julian's tone was cool, but his eyes burned.
Veylan said nothing. He simply pointed his sword at Julian.
The signal was mutual.
No more holding back.
Julian exploded forward, footwork tearing across the platform like lightning. He had already activated his personal footwork technique—Scarlet Step—a style passed down through the Reinhart lineage.
Each step flashed like fire, burning through inertia, snapping around his opponent like an unrelenting flame.
He thrust his spear.
Thwack!
Veylan blocked—but the shock of the strike pushed him back two steps. Julian didn't wait.
He spun the spear again and launched a rapid 5-strike combo—each faster than the last, swirling like a crimson storm.
Veylan grit his teeth and dodged the last one with Gale Step, appearing behind Julian.
He slashed.
Julian spun with the attack, using the rotation to redirect the blow with his spear shaft and counter with a backward elbow.
It grazed Veylan's ribs. The first real hit.
The crowd erupted in awe.
Julian stepped back, then dashed again with high momentum, this time plunging his spear downward with a sweeping arc.
Veylan met it—but his face had changed.
This wasn't the same boy from earlier.
Julian was pressing him. Hard.
Gritting his teeth, Veylan pulled back with a sharp breath.
"Then I'll respond."
The atmosphere shifted.
The once buzzing arena turned eerily silent as the temperature dropped.
A light mist began to rise.
Julian's eyes narrowed.
Veylan's sword had changed—not physically, but in aura.
Frost crawled up the blade, gathering at the edges like a spider weaving threads of winter.
The ground around his feet glistened faintly with thin patches of ice forming with each breath he took.
Julian's grip on his spear tightened.
"He's switching to elemental control…"
Veylan didn't say a word.
His body shimmered faintly as he jumped, using a sharp burst of air element under his feet. Not a spell—no chant, no glow—just raw elemental control.
He flipped once in the air, then extended his sword downward.
From the tip of his blade, a swirling ice orb formed, condensed, and with a subtle flick of his wrist—launched.
It wasn't flashy.
But it was fast.
The ice ball soared downward at high speed, sharp and heavy like a meteor of frozen steel.
Julian stepped forward calmly, rotated his spear, and deflected the projectile with ease, shattering it midair in a burst of ice shards.
He exhaled. "He's just using elements… no skills?"
Veylan landed lightly, the floor beneath him crunching under a thin film of frost.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
It wasn't arrogance. It was the gaze of a veteran, someone who had fought through a thousand battles—someone who didn't need to show off to dominate.
[[[Author's Note (In-Narrative Explanation):
(Author Note):
Listen closely, reader—
Every fighter can use skills, regardless of their elemental affinity. Even if someone doesn't have fire, they can still use fire-type skills.
But here's the thing—skills consume a lot of mana, especially if you're using a skill outside your affinity.
Elemental control, however, is different. Only those with an affinity can use it—like if someone has air affinity, they can manipulate wind directly.
It's subtle. It's cheaper on mana.
And at Rank 4, when someone completely masters their element, they can use it just like a skill—without actually casting a skill.
That's why people with elemental affinity are dangerous.
Their strikes hit harder. Their movements are faster.
Especially when they use a skill and their element together.
But remember: only at Rank 4 and beyond does this difference truly shine.
Until then, it's about control, restraint, and creativity.]]]]
Julian charged first, a straight-line blur. His crimson mana surged as he thrusted forward, his spear glowing violently. Veylan bent backward like flowing water, dodging by a hair's breadth. In that moment, a faint shimmer appeared under his feet—
A-Rank Skill: Ice Step Mirage.
In an instant, Veylan vanished. A phantom afterimage, made of glimmering frost, remained for just a moment before shattering like glass.
Julian spun, sensing the movement. But Veylan had already appeared to his left, his sword descending in a cold arc. Julian blocked with the shaft of his spear just in time, but frost crawled across the weapon from the strike point.
Julian growled. "Fine. You want cold? I'll burn through it."
He leapt backward, then slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. Crimson mana exploded outward.
A-Rank Skill: Flame Serpent.
From the circle of crimson mana, a coiling serpent of fire burst forth, roaring toward Veylan with a hiss loud enough to drown the crowd's gasp.
Veylan narrowed his eyes. With a silent breath, he raised his hand and the wind obeyed.
B-Rank Skill: Gale Barrier.
The serpent's head was met by a horizontal wall of compressed wind, causing the flames to split and swirl, losing form. Yet, not completely. Some of the fire pushed through.
Veylan ducked under the residual blaze, his cloak catching fire at the edges. He rolled forward, spun on his heel, and launched a shimmering javelin of ice.
B-Rank Skill: Piercing Shard.
Julian raised his spear and twirled it like a shield. The shard shattered on contact—but it was a feint. Veylan was already on him, sliding with the help of his mirage step again, bringing his blade down in rapid frost-infused slashes.
One. Two. Three.
Julian stepped back, parried, countered. Sparks met ice.
Then Julian's voice cut through the clash. "Let's raise the heat!"
He leapt into the air. His entire body glowed crimson.
A-Rank Skill: Infernal Rain.
Dozens of crimson firebolts erupted from his spear tip and shot down in wide arcs like falling meteors. The entire platform exploded in waves of fire.
The audience shielded their eyes.
A breath passed.
A second.
Then—
Wind whipped away the smoke.
There stood Veylan, surrounded by spinning shards of ice and a faint dome of mist. His blade was cracked, his shoulder scorched, but his stance remained firm.
He exhaled, his lips curling into a focused grin. "My turn."
He dashed forward, not with speed but with precision. Each step timed perfectly, assisted by small bursts of air behind his heels.
He weaved around Julian's jabs, leaving behind tiny frost circles with each footfall. He slashed left, feinted right, then crouched low and—
A-Rank Skill: Ice Lotus Fang.
With one upward swing, a burst of freezing energy coiled around his blade, and then exploded in the shape of a lotus. Julian was struck square in the chest—ice slammed him backward, freezing the front of his armor.
Julian coughed, eyes wide.
His hands ignited immediately—fire lashing around him to melt the ice.
They both breathed heavily now. Blood dripped from Julian's lip. Veylan's arm trembled.
And yet—
They advanced again.
This time together.
Spears, swords, fire, frost. Wind tore through the ground as Julian used sweeping kicks mid-air, surrounded by flares. Veylan responded with close-quarter footwork, sliding under, launching frost-laced punches and wind-hardened kicks.
Julian jabbed forward with sudden speed—
A-Rank Skill: Crimson Lancer.
A massive extension of his spear shot forward like a laser beam. Veylan didn't even try to dodge.
Instead—
He bent his knees, gathering air beneath him.
Ice Step Mirage: Second Sequence.
He vanished again, this time reappearing behind Julian mid-air, blade raised high.
Julian turned, almost as if sensing it.
CLANG!
The spear and sword met again, but the force of Veylan's descent cracked the floor beneath them.
Julian tumbled, flipped midair, and landed on one knee. "You're… good," he said between breaths.
"You too," Veylan replied, his sword resting against his shoulder. Ice steam drifted from it, hissing into the wind.
They stood like that for a moment, sweat and blood trickling down, bodies bruised but spirits ignited.
The audience didn't speak. Even the nobles in the high balcony were too stunned to utter a word.
Julian adjusted his grip. Veylan narrowed his stance.
They would not stop.
Not yet.
The clash between Frost and Crimson continued—