The arena was a battlefield of ice and steel. Shattered frost coated the ground, thickening into jagged formations where Isolde's glacial greatsword struck, while Kalem's precise, vibrating slashes carved through the frozen defenses.
Both fighters were bloodied, breath heavy with exhaustion, yet neither backed down.
Kalem felt the sting of countless shallow cuts across his arms and torso. Isolde's magic had begun seeping through the cracks in his armor, numbing his limbs with every passing second.
"This isn't working," Isolde muttered, raising another ice wall to block a swift diagonal slash. The impact sent cracks through the barrier, but it held. "I'll be out of mana before he goes down."
She glanced at her sword, its icy core pulsing like a frozen heartbeat. "Well, time to take the initiative."
With a sharp exhale, she swung her sword in a massive arc, frost trailing behind like a glacial crescent. Kalem leaped back, eyes narrowing as he sensed the shift.
Mana surged.
A bitter wind howled through the arena, and the temperature dropped even further. The crystalline ice covering the battlefield quivered as an immense amount of mana gathered around Isolde's blade, the sheer force of it sending spirals of frost outward.
A big attack. A final gamble.
Kalem gritted his teeth, gripping his sword tighter.
He could dodge. He could wait. But that wasn't an option anymore.
If he let her release that attack, the entire arena would be engulfed.
He had to stop her. Now.
With a deep breath, he charged.
Isolde slammed her greatsword into the ground. Glacial spikes erupted from beneath her, spiraling upward like a frozen hurricane, forming a colossal spear of ice above her head.
Kalem was already mid-sprint, weaving through the erupting spikes, his blade shimmering with each precise cut. His body blurred—fluid, relentless.
Isolde thrust her sword upward, launching the massive spear of ice toward him.
Kalem didn't stop.
His grip shifted, and his blade hummed with pure resonance as he slashed through the air itself.
A shockwave of vibration surged forward, colliding with the incoming spear. The ice shattered—no, it fractured from the inside out, the sheer force of his sword vibrating through its structure.
CRACK!
The frozen mass exploded into a storm of shards.
Isolde's eyes widened—she had never seen anything cut through her magic so effortlessly.
But Kalem wasn't done.
As the frozen debris rained down, he closed the gap. His sword flashed, a clean diagonal slash aimed at her torso.
A perfect strike.
Or it should have been.
At the last moment, Isolde twisted her body, shifting her stance as the glacial greatsword pulsed again.
She let go.
Kalem's blade struck her chest—but at that very moment, the unstable mana within her weapon erupted outward in an uncontrolled surge.
A detonation of frost.
Kalem's vision blurred as an overwhelming wave of cold slammed into him, sending him spiraling backward.
Isolde collapsed to her knees. The air around them had turned into a frozen mist, chunks of ice embedded into the ground.
The crowd held its breath.
Then—two bodies hit the ground at the same time.
Silence.
The match had ended. But no victor stood.