The arena was unrecognizable.
Where once there had been solid ground, there were now cracks spiderwebbing through the stone, half-melted and then refrozen into jagged ice formations. Steam billowed into the air as the battle between Nara's unrelenting inferno and Isolde's chilling frost reached its peak.
The crowd watched in stunned silence. They had seen many fights in this tournament, but none had turned the battlefield into such a chaotic war zone.
And still, neither warrior had fallen.
Nara's body was a furnace—heat radiated from her like a second sun. Her tunic, reinforced with fire-resistant enchantments, was charred, barely holding together as her own flames burned hotter than they ever had before.
Her eyes blazed, a crimson glow flickering through them. Her muscles pulsed with unnatural strength, her breaths deep and ragged. But she was not weakening.
She was becoming something more.
With a deafening roar, Nara slammed her fist into the ground. Flames erupted in all directions, tongues of fire lashing out like the hungry maws of a beast. The very air warped around her, distorting from the sheer heat.
Isolde had no choice but to move.
She leapt back, her twin glacial blades humming with power. Frost gathered in her wake, each step leaving a trail of ice that fought desperately against the rising inferno.
Isolde's expression remained calm, but a single bead of sweat ran down her temple—a rare sign of struggle. Even her frost magic, which had always been an unbreakable force, was struggling against Nara's berserker inferno.
But she had one last move.
Clutching the hilts of her twin swords, Isolde crossed them in front of her chest. The brilliant blue crystal embedded in her hilt pulsed once, twice—then shattered.
A deafening CRACK echoed through the arena.
Instantly, the temperature plummeted.
A storm of ice and snow exploded outward, swallowing the battlefield in a blinding blizzard. The heat from Nara's flames met the absolute zero frost head-on, the impact sending shockwaves that cracked the already unstable ground.
Jhaeros, watching from the stands, instinctively covered Velka's ears, shielding her from the high-pitched screech of ice meeting fire.
Kalem narrowed his eyes. "That's not just normal frost magic. That's…"
In the eye of the storm, Nara and Isolde met for their final exchange.
Nara's fists, wreathed in wildfire, swung with devastating force. Each strike was meant to end the fight. The flames around her burned with a fury unrestrained, warping the air, melting ice before it could even reach her.
Isolde, however, had become a specter of the cold. Her movements were razor-sharp, her dual blades carving precise arcs in the frozen mist. She didn't need to overpower Nara—only to outlast her.
The final clash came in a single, unstoppable moment.
Nara lunged, her entire body engulfed in a blaze of fury, fists aimed to break through whatever defense Isolde had left.
Isolde moved like a phantom, stepping into the motion rather than retreating. She twisted, raising one blade to deflect Nara's strike at the last possible second—and drove the other sword directly toward Nara's stomach.
The impact was earth-shattering.
A massive shockwave erupted from the point of impact.
The entire arena floor collapsed inward, sending stone and debris flying in every direction. Flames roared skyward, clashing against the expanding ice, and an explosion of steam engulfed the battlefield.
For a long moment, nothing was visible.
Then—
A figure stood amidst the chaos.
Isolde, her form barely visible through the swirling frost, was on one knee, her body trembling from exhaustion. One of her twin blades was shattered, the pieces scattered across the field.
And beside her—
Nara lay sprawled on the fractured ground, steam rising from her form. Her flames had died down, leaving only faint embers flickering at her fingertips. Her body had finally given in, her berserker state unable to sustain itself any longer.
The crowd erupted into a mixture of cheers and stunned silence.
The referee rushed forward, assessing both fighters. After a tense moment, they raised their hand toward Isolde.
"Winner: Isolde, The Frost Reaper!"
The announcement was met with thunderous applause, but the real spectacle was the battlefield itself.
What had once been an arena fit for combat was now a disaster zone.
Massive cracks ran through the ground, ice spikes jutted out at unnatural angles, and entire sections of stone were reduced to steaming rubble.
Kalem blinked slowly at the destruction.
"…That's a work hazard," he said blankly.
Jhaeros nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no way the final is happening here tomorrow."
The tournament officials scrambled onto the field, assessing the devastation. After a brief discussion, one of them raised their voice for an announcement.
"Due to the damage sustained in this match, the final battle will be postponed until tomorrow while repairs are made!"
A wave of murmurs spread through the audience, but it was clear—Nara and Isolde had pushed the battlefield to its absolute limit.
As the two combatants were carried away for treatment, one thing was certain.
Whoever won the final match would have to be prepared for anything.