A hush fell over the arena as Garrik walked off, leaving only two fighters standing.
Kalem and Isolde.
The air had grown noticeably colder, the ground beneath them frostbitten from the sheer potency of Isolde's magic. Her greatsword, already an instrument of destruction, now pulsed with an unnatural chill—a glacial force so strong that even the moisture in the air crystallized into delicate, shimmering frost.
Kalem rolled his shoulders, testing his grip on his blade. The vibrations still thrummed faintly, coursing through the metal like a heartbeat.
He could feel it—the resonance, the hunger for destruction.
Isolde took a slow step forward, her expression unreadable. Her blue eyes gleamed with an eerie glow, her breath visible in the frozen air.
"You know," she finally spoke, her voice carrying through the silence. "You're dangerous."
Kalem tilted his head. "That a compliment?"
"A warning," she corrected.
Without another word, she raised her greatsword.
A thick wave of frost exploded from her stance, swallowing the ground in solid ice. It spread in all directions, an expanding zone of deathly cold, forcing Kalem to act—now.
He leaped to the side, just as the entire section of the arena he had been standing on turned into jagged ice spikes. The frost chased him, creeping up his boots as he landed.
Kalem didn't hesitate. He moved—cutting through the air in a blur. His sword flashed, the vibrations humming as he struck the ice beneath him, shattering the frost before it could trap him completely.
Isolde was already mid-swing.
Kalem saw it—a perfect downward cleave, ice magic spiraling around the blade like a frozen storm.
He met it head-on.
Their swords clashed.
A deafening shockwave erupted from the impact.
The ground beneath them splintered, cracks webbing out in all directions from the sheer force of their strike. The cold slammed into Kalem like a wall, his breath catching as the frost bit into his exposed skin.
And yet—
His blade did not freeze.
Instead, the resonance crystal in his hilt flared, sending a deep, pulsing vibration through the steel. The moment their weapons locked, the energy from his sword pulsed into Isolde's, disrupting the flow of magic within her greatsword.
Her eyes widened.
Kalem capitalized.
He twisted his weapon, pushing forward—forcing her blade back.
Isolde reacted instantly. She broke away, leaping back in a swirl of snow, but Kalem was already on her.
He closed the distance in a heartbeat, his curved blade slicing through the air with a whispering hum.
A diagonal slash.
Isolde barely managed to parry, her greatsword shuddering under the force of his strike. The vibrations in Kalem's sword sent a sharp tremor through her weapon, throwing off her footing.
A second slash.
This one cut through her shoulder guard, leaving a thin red line against her pale skin.
She hissed, but didn't falter. Instead, she did something unexpected.
She let go of her sword.
For a split second, Kalem was thrown off. Why?
Then he saw it—the ice.
The greatsword, now untouched by her hands, remained suspended in the air. The frost clinging to it expanded, shifting, twisting—until the weapon moved on its own.
Kalem had a single moment to react before the enchanted greatsword slashed at him with no wielder.
He barely dodged, twisting his body to the side. But the blade still grazed his arm, sending a searing wave of cold through his entire limb. His muscles locked for half a second—just enough time for Isolde to step forward.
She clenched her fist.
The frost around them rose like a wave—a wall of jagged, shimmering ice, all converging onto Kalem's position.
He had no time to think.
Kalem acted on instinct.
He swung his sword upward.
The resonance crystal flared.
A single, pulsing vibration rippled from his blade—a force so precise, so sharp, that it didn't just cut through the ice.
It dispersed it.
The moment his sword made contact, the wave of ice shattered mid-air, breaking into nothing but harmless snowflakes.
The arena erupted into gasps.
Even Isolde looked shocked.
Kalem exhaled, shaking his arm slightly as he re-centered himself. His breath was visible in the frozen air.
"Alright," he muttered, shifting his stance. "Now we're talking."
Isolde didn't respond.
Instead, she raised her hands.
The floating greatsword trembled, glowing with an unnatural blue light. The frost around the battlefield intensified, growing sharper, colder, more alive.
Then—
The arena floor cracked.
Kalem's eyes narrowed. "That's new."
Isolde snapped her fingers.
In an instant, the battlefield turned into a frozen hellscape.