The arena pulsed with tension as smoke curled around the battleground, veiling both combatants in a haze of heat and scorched thorns. The crowd was silent—drawn in, held breathless.
From the edge of collapse, Serah straightened.
Her body trembled, her limbs shaking from exhaustion, but the fire in her eyes had not dimmed. If anything, it burned hotter—sharper. Her flames had always been wild, a furious storm of ash and fury, but now, they were changing. Focusing. She took a breath, and when she exhaled, the embers around her swirled tighter, more controlled.
Across from her, Rhett watched with narrowed eyes. He could feel it—something shifting in her. A furnace being refined.
"I'm not done," Serah said through clenched teeth.
Rhett answered with a flick of his wrist. The thorn cage he'd summoned sprang inward like jaws.
Serah moved. Not with her usual reckless blaze, but with a surprising grace. Fire coiled around her ankles as she burst forward, slipping through the closing gaps with inches to spare.
Ashwalk.
Her form flickered, dissolving briefly into a sweep of drifting embers, passing between the thorns and re-materializing right at Rhett's flank.
The look in his eyes barely had time to shift.
Serah's fist, burning white-hot, collided with his ribs.
Cinderbrand.
Flames licked across his armor, leaving glowing ember scars that sizzled even as he tried to back away.
Rhett hissed in pain, his hand lashing out. A vine of barbed thorns exploded from the ground and wrapped around her ankle, yanking her backward. She hit the ground hard, rolling to her feet just as another barrage of thorns came slicing toward her.
Blood stained both of them now—thin cuts along Serah's arms, charred edges across Rhett's tunic. They moved like predators, pacing the narrowing space between them.
"You're stronger than I thought," Rhett muttered, brushing ash from his sleeve. "But fire burns out."
Serah's laughter was ragged but real. "So does everything you grow."
She raised both hands. Flames surged around her like wings. Not wild anymore—but gathered. Ready. Her next words weren't shouted. They were whispered.
"Scorchline."
A line of fire traced the ground in a perfect arc toward Rhett, but he didn't retreat. Instead, his hands plunged into the dirt.
"Thornburst."
Vines erupted from beneath the flame, surging through it like serpents. Fire and plant matter clashed—flames devoured the vines, but thorns still flew from the wreckage, jagged and fast.
One pierced Serah's shoulder.
She staggered but didn't scream. Blood poured down her arm. Her eyes didn't leave Rhett.
From the stands, the other cohorts leaned forward. Even the most stoic couldn't look away.
"She's bleeding badly," Iris murmured, fingers curled into the edge of her seat.
"She's pushing past it," Azrael replied without turning. "That fire's not fading. It's evolving."
Talon of the Ardent Blades didn't blink as he watched. "If she masters that spark, she wins."
Rhett moved to finish it. He extended both arms and from the earth rose his final move: a thicket of twisting, curling vines—thorns on every inch. They moved like a tidal wave, wrapping, coiling, a forest of bramble converging on Serah.
And Serah—
—closed her eyes.
The fire flickered inside her—not a blaze, but a heartbeat. A pulse.
She reached into herself, found the source—the Star of Cinders, not screaming but steady. Not destruction. Rebirth.
And then she stepped forward.
The fire didn't explode this time. It unfolded. Like petals.
A single breath. A single step.
Cinderbloom.
The flames didn't surge around her—they bloomed. Like a rose of fire, each ember curling out with deadly precision. The arena was bathed in orange and gold, not chaotic, but blindingly beautiful.
The vines met the blaze.
And burned.
Rhett raised his arms to shield his eyes, thorns curling to protect his body—but they could not stop the fire this time. It poured through the gaps, searing his sleeves, curling around his legs.
He dropped to one knee, teeth clenched.
Serah stood before him, flames dancing behind her like wings of light.
She lifted her hand. Fire surged up her blade—just enough. No more, no less. She stepped forward, pressing the blade to Rhett's chest.
He looked up at her, breath ragged. "Well… damn."
"I said I wasn't done." Her voice was quiet.
He gave a breathless laugh. "No. You weren't."
The arena went silent.
Then the horn blew.
Victory: Serah, Star of Cinders.
Serah stumbled as the flames left her. Iris was already vaulting over the railing. Azrael followed with quiet urgency.
Rhett sat on the ground, bruised and panting, but smiling faintly as Mira and Talon approached him. "She earned that," he muttered. "Every damn second."
Back in the waiting corridors, Serah leaned against a wall, eyes half-closed.
Orion approached her last.
"You didn't just burn," he said, voice low. "You became."
Serah opened her eyes—and smiled.
"I think I'm finally learning how."