A violent tremor, born from pure concentrated mana, shook Xerxes' hand. His sharp gaze swept and cut across the chaos of the battlefield, quickly landing on the source.
His voice was a low growl as he muttered her name, "Learna Lovett."
In her grasp, she brandished a staff that seemed less a crafted weapon and more of a piece of wildwood itself, a branch coiled in living, emerald vines that twisted and turned to encase a pulsating green shard.
Her appearance spoke of a life devoid of luxury. It was neither extravagant nor decrepit, but rather a balance. Her robes, though clean, were slightly tattered at the cuffs. Her wide-brimmed witch's hat bore a neat stitch that repaired a cut to prolong its life.
Xerxes wasn't unfamiliar with the subtle signs of poverty after seeing so much in Layne; he could only find himself wondering about the upbringing that had forged Learna and what had brought her here today.
Perhaps it was for family, for a change of life or something more profound. It intrigued him more than any other opponent, besides the enigma, Tristan Godfrey.
Her wheat blonde brows narrowed as she returned his thorough, studying gaze. She muttered to her team, her posture straightening with resolve that seemed to steel her spine. "Leonard, Cleo, Ray-make for the orb. Distract Leiya. I shall contend with Xerxes."
The one dubbed 'Cleo' was a young girl of unassuming appearance. She held a simple dagger, with it slightly shaking in her grip. "Are you certain, big sis Learna? You're our only chance here. If somet' befalls you, then..." Her words trailed off, heavy with fear.
Learna swayed out her right arm, her voice not rising in anger, instead with firm confidence and natural authority. "If you believe your worth is only proved by my presence, then you are mistaken. Each of you has a part to play, as do I. And as your elder sister, I need you all to play yours. For our victory."
Cleo's face, which was pinched with worry, began to relax and illuminate. This was the Learna she always knew. The one who was an inspiration to her and their family, the one who shouldered the heaviest battles and burdens without complaint.
She had always placed the needs of her found family before her own, always. Due to that, Cleo couldn't lack resolve. With newfound conviction, she piped up, "Ray, Leonard! Let's get our hands on that orb and win this day!"
Leonard and Ray, as one, conjured their elements of fire and a slicing gust of wind, expelling them with Leiya as a target. Sensing the danger with a warrior's instinct, Leiya immediately propelled herself backwards, launching into the sky with an amplified speed due to the orb's buff.
The attacks passed harmlessly beneath her, their power rendered as feeble to her standard. Cleo quickly joined the battle, as the rest of their group coordinated an attack on Leiya, whilst prioritising the possession of the orb.
Xerxes began to slowly circle Learna, observing her every move. He posed a question that seemed irrelevant to the battle, yet one he felt compelled to ask.
Just as Airi had advised, to understand his comrades, he found a strange desire to know his opponents. "They lean upon you, Learna. I'm sure it's a heavy weight. I hope you can bear it, I hope you can fight for what you stand for, because I can't hold back. In the same way your party relies on you, they do for me."
In a mirror of motion, Learna began to circle him, her staff spinning in a fluid motion within her palm. "I do not wish for any pity, so I am glad you won't hold back. I know this world doesn't offer handouts to those who ask. You must seize destiny and force it to yield. So if that means taking you down, then I must. This means too much to them and I can not let them down."
Without a warning, Learna drew back her staff and proudly spoke an incantation. Even with the spoken words, the speed of her spellcraft was only a notch away from incantationless mana.
Catching Xerxes slightly off guard. "Uporar!" A torrent of wind exploded directly beneath Xerxes' feet, a violent geyser of air snatched him from the ground, propelling him airborne.
Xerxes knew his vulnerability; he had while airborne; he was a target, poised for a debilitating blow. He suspected Learna's primary affinity for wind would be stronger than his own secondary command of the element.
Reacting on instinct, he activated his Mandilex soul shard, feeling its power reinforce the defensive capabilities of his body. Though Learna didn't hesitate to continue the battle.
Another chant was spoken, swift and sharp, and five individual spears of condensed wind coalesced in the air before her, humming with lethal intent.
They shot towards his suspended form, seeking to pierce him through and end this battle there and then.
But Xerxes would not allow it. However noble her case, however righteous her soul may be, he wouldn't surrender his own future for another's. So he reacted.
Slowing the spears' terrifying trajectory with a desperate gust of wind of his own, he bought himself a precious heartbeat. He had to evade the onslaught, and the only way to possibly do that was a gamble.
He thought back, scouring his memories for an answer, and it seemed as if Aya's spirit was his guardian in this battle as a memory unravelled itself.
'You see, a mage like me uses a focus to enhance the power of my spells. Right now, it is a wand, but when we become renowned adventurers, it will become a staff! That means you're going to have to get close and personal with our enemies so they do not interrupt my concentration.'
Xerxes' eyes snapped open. With all the might he could muster, he imbued Morningstar with wind mana. But instead of releasing a blast, he did something entirely unorthodox.
With a violent, overarm swing, he hurled the blade directly towards Learna. It carved through the barriers of wind mana, as a silver dart aimed not to harm her, but to disrupt the spell that was sent at her.
The wind spears, mere inches from his flesh, dispersed into nothingness, though the residual force of them did cause some damage, but not nearly as much as it could have been.
Moringstar's tip grazed Learna's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, and from being free of the spell, Xerxes pushed his hands out behind him, palms facing away, and poured a frightening amount of mana into them.
The force acted as a propulsion, and he dove straight towards Learna with devastating speed.
All she saw was a blur of motion. Before she could blink, his determined face was before hers. One hand gripped over her mouth, stifling any incantation she could possibly make.
With his free hand, he used wind and fire in unison, as he released a rapid volley of point-blank spells that pumelled her.
She was knocked back with the forceful blow of his attack, as she staggered back. Xerxes protruded his lead arm forward, his rear arm reeling back.
Sparks of fire mana crackled around his fists, and waves of heat began to siphon from him in tremendous, visible amounts.
He activated three soul shards at once-the Goblin, the Orc, the Mana Beast. "It wasn't obvious to me before, Learna," he explained, his voice calm, almost callous in its clarity. "But I recently discovered that soul shards aren't limited to their overall ability. With enough focus, one can attribute different parts of a spell to different shards."
"For the overall support and form of the spell, I'll implement the Mana Beast's soul shard. For the arrow's head, I'll use the viciousness and brute strength of an Orc. And for its speed, I'll use the goblins from the Eshvir Forest."
Learna looked up, bloodied and battered from his overwhelming prowess. All she could do was watch as he clinically detailed her impending defeat.
Before her vision, an arrow of pure fire began to materialise, composed of so much condensed mana it made the air quiver. This was no wild fluke; it was practised, surgically precise.
The level of control she witnessed wasn't easily obtained. It was earned, fought for. Paid for in blood, pain and hard work.
But did that render her own fight worthless? Did her struggle for a future mean nothing in the face of his? Learna began to shed tears, which sizzled on her heated skin. "I wish I could have lived without fighting. I wish I could have lived in peace. I wish I could have led a simpler life, but fate didn't will it."
"So every day..." she pushed herself up, forcing her trembling body to stand, "... I fight to change that. I fight for my brothers and sisters in the orphanage. I fight for their future. So if you believe.." Fury began to lace her features, a final, desperate strength flooding her limbs as she thrust her staff forward.
"If you think I will simply grovel and let you defeat me without seeing everything I have to offer, then you are gravely mistaken!"
Xerxes could sympathise with her struggles, with her desires. For a singular moment, the thought of stopping, of yielding this battle to her, crossed his mind. For like Learna, he too fought for others. But what distinguished them was stark.
It was the hunger. Xerxes' hunger for victory was so apparent that he could be at the face of death and still refuse its finality.
Memories of his near-death experiences flooded his mind. The face of Yves plagued his mind, and he swore to himself he would not stop until he was dead.
He gritted his teeth, a wave of shame washing over him. He would once again have to be the 'executioner'. However, this time it was in a different regard; it was to Learna's dreams of victory.
But he needed to push forward and quell those thoughts and bury them deep. His own people, who were waiting for him, needed him to win not only the people in this world, but in the one that came after death. For Leiya's mother, father and Aemon.
He shook his head. The fully formed flaming arrow materialised, a thing of terrible beauty. It darted forward, with a drum of wind, aiming towards Learna in full force.
Simultaneously, Learna slammed the base of her staff into the fractured earth, wailing her final defence. "ZEPHYR'S VEIL!"
The arena was divided. On one side, brilliant, violent hues of orange and red from Xerxes' spell. On the other hand, a desperate, brilliant emerald and grey from Learna's.
An expulsion of thick, layered wind erupted from her, encircling her in a spinning, defiant barrier. She poured every last ounce of her mana into it, every hope, every memory, every dream.
Xerxes roared, the veins on his neck bulging as he pushed all his might against the barrier. The flaming arrow challenged the wind, fracturing it, breaking through by inches. "GIVE UP, LEARNA!" he screamed through the collision of mana.
Fire was naturally her weakness. It was her cruel luck. But even with the world stacked against her, she would not yield. She reminisced of the orphanage, of the smiles that had lit their gaunt faces when she told them of her acceptance into the main guild in Baratheon, of the quests that would bring gold as long as she achieved a good adventuring rank in this tournament.
She whispered into the maelstrom, a simple prayer. "Just let me be able to help one more person. Let me feed one more mouth. Let me see them smile and be proud of me once more."
And then, from the crowd, she heard it. Chanting. Not the general roar of the masses, but specific, beloved voices. "Learna! Learna! LEARNA!" It was her family. Her reason.
Xerxes heard them, too. And though he didn't hear the voices of those he wished for, he knew they were with him in spirit.
With a shared, final understanding of the weights they carried, they both roared their battle cries. The mana contested each other in a beautiful display of madness.
And then in the last moment, a minute had passed. The orb released a pulse of energy that had weakened one and strengthened another, giving one of them just enough strength to overwhelm the other.