The arena lights shifted, and the rumble of the crowd slowly dulled to a hush.
A single name echoed across the marble amphitheater, clear and sharp like the toll of a bell:
"Iris of the Star of Sound."
She stepped forward from the shadowed archway, rapier gleaming faintly at her side, its slim blade catching the filtered daylight like a shard of glass. Her footsteps made no noise. No rustle of fabric. No clink of metal. Even the breath she drew felt suspended in the air.
Then—
"Mira of the Star of Bladesong."
Another figure emerged opposite her, all poise and gliding motion. Mira walked with effortless grace, her duelist's blade already drawn, resting over one shoulder as if it belonged there by birthright. Her white training jacket fluttered as she moved — a subtle contrast to the storm she carried behind her eyes.
The two stood at opposite ends of the dueling circle, surrounded by enchanted pillars carved with runes. Faint motes of magic drifted upward like pollen, shimmering between them.
Above, the overseer's voice resounded once more:
"Final match of the first round. Two stand. One advances. Prepare yourselves."
On the edge of the stands…
Serah leaned forward, arms resting against her knees. "She's got this… right?"
Orion didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed on Iris, watching her posture, the slow rise and fall of her shoulders as she centered herself.
"She's the calmest person I know," he said quietly. "That's what makes her dangerous."
Azrael said nothing. Just stared.
Back in the circle…
Iris rolled her wrist once, loosening her grip on the rapier. Her other hand hovered near the hilt. Not tight. Not stiff. Just ready.
Across from her, Mira dipped her chin slightly. A subtle nod of respect.
Iris mirrored it.
No words. No taunts. Only silence.
Then—
The runes flared around the edge of the circle, light bursting upward like a rising curtain.
A thunderclap signaled the start.
Mira moved first.
Like a chord snapping taut, she lunged — not in a straight line, but weaving side to side, each footstep forming a rhythm, each slash a note in her accelerating tempo. Her blade shimmered, and the air seemed to ripple in her wake.
Iris barely shifted her stance. Her rapier moved in three precise arcs — ting ting ting — deflecting the flurry without yielding ground. Her breathing didn't even change.
Then she stepped back—
—and struck the ground with her heel.
A Sonic Pulse rippled forward, a narrow burst of resonance. Mira's rhythm faltered — not a stumble, but the momentary loss of flow, like skipping a beat in a song.
Iris lunged.
Their swords met. Steel shrieked against steel.
Watching from the stands…
"Damn," Serah muttered. "She's reading Mira's tempo already?"
"Not reading," Orion said. "She's listening."
Back in the arena…
Mira grinned.
And spun.
A Bladesong spiral erupted from her sword — a circular barrage of light slashes that layered over each other in rising tempo. The sound was like a wind chime caught in a storm.
Iris lowered her stance.
Whispers of power shimmered around her ears.
Toneweave.
She exhaled — and the resonance formed a web of vibrating air around her, catching the edges of Mira's whirlwind technique and dispersing the pressure just enough for her to step through.
A beat.
Then Iris lunged again.
As their blades clashed once more, the sound that erupted wasn't metal.
It was music.
A dissonant, sharp note — the Sound against the Song.
The two combatants circled, the tension growing with every measured step. The arena had fallen utterly silent, the crowd holding its collective breath.
Iris adjusted her grip on the rapier, her stance elegant but alert. Mira's twin sabers gleamed in the arena's light, held low and loose at her sides — a casual stance that belied the deadly precision behind them.
Clink.
The first strike came swift — Mira lunged, one saber feinting high while the other sliced low.
Iris pivoted, letting the first blade whistle past her shoulder, then caught the second with a deft twist of her rapier. The impact vibrated through her wrist, but she flowed with it, guiding the blow aside instead of meeting it head-on.
"She's not trying to overpower her," Orion said under his breath. "She's redirecting."
Azrael nodded. "Sound moves with the current. So does she."
Mira pressed harder, a blur of flashing steel and relentless footwork. Her sabers carved intricate arcs through the air — dazzling, overwhelming — but Iris was never quite where Mira expected her to be.
Every dodge was a half-beat ahead, every parry a whisper of motion.
Still, Mira was relentless. With each exchange, her sabers sang louder, faster, like a duet reaching a fever pitch.
"She's building pressure," Serah murmured. "Trying to break Iris's rhythm."
Orion frowned, watching closely. He could see it too — the way Mira's strikes weren't just random slashes, but notes in a song, each attack flowing into the next, layering tempo and force until the melody became a weapon in itself.
Iris gritted her teeth. She could feel the momentum shifting, like a rising tide threatening to drown her.
Breathe. Listen.
Selene's lessons echoed in Orion's mind — and he suspected, in Iris's as well. Sound wasn't just noise. It was structure. It was memory. It was will.
A glimmer of defiance sparked in Iris's pale eyes.
As Mira closed in again, Iris moved differently.
Instead of retreating, she stepped into the attack — a daring, almost reckless move.
With a flick of her wrist, Iris twisted her rapier in a tight spiral, catching both of Mira's sabers mid-swing. A resonant clang rang out — not just the collision of metal, but something deeper, a vibrating pulse that echoed in the bones of every spectator.
"What was that?" Serah whispered, startled.
Orion's heart raced. "She's using the Star of Sound… through her blade."
The reverberations traveled along Mira's weapons, jarring her arms, disrupting her flow for the first time.
Iris didn't waste the opening.
She lashed out — a series of precise thrusts, too fast and fluid to follow — forcing Mira onto the defensive.
The arena, once buzzing with tension, now roared with life. Cheers erupted, echoing around them.
Mira growled low in her throat, the first crack in her calm demeanor. She spun away, sabers flashing defensively, trying to reset her footing.
But Iris wasn't giving her space.
She struck again — not with brute force, but with rhythm, weaving a pattern of sound and steel that resonated through the very air.
Each clash sang.
Each movement thrummed.
Mira's sabers clashed against Iris's rapier again and again — but she was fighting not just against a sword, but against an invisible song, a current of momentum she couldn't grasp.
"She's turning the battle into music," Azrael said quietly, a note of something almost like admiration in his voice.
Orion nodded slowly. "And Mira's dancing to her tune now."
But the battle wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
Mira bared her teeth, fury flashing across her face. In one brutal surge, she abandoned precision entirely — switching to a savage offensive, her sabers blurring in vicious arcs, trying to drown Iris's rhythm under sheer weight and violence.
The sudden shift nearly caught Iris off-guard.
A nick of blood appeared on her forearm where one saber grazed her.
The crowd gasped.
"Come on, Iris…" Serah whispered, fists clenched at her sides.
For a moment, it looked like Mira might overwhelm her.
Then Iris did something unexpected.
She smiled.
A small, fierce smile.
And then — she sang.
A single, crystalline note escaped her lips, impossibly pure.
The sound seemed to crystallize the air itself, freezing the momentum of the battle for a heartbeat.
Mira staggered, the vibrations catching her off-balance, her blades hesitating.
In that sliver of opportunity, Iris lunged.
Her rapier struck — not a killing blow, but a precise tap to Mira's chest, directly over her heart.
A resonant chime rang out — and Mira's entire form shimmered with disrupted force.
The audience exploded in a wave of sound.
The announcer's voice followed, breathless and triumphant:
"Touch confirmed! Victory to Iris of the Star of Sound!"