"Match Three: Miren Vale versus Vaen Solarius."
Even before Kaelen finished speaking, the atmosphere had changed.
Where earlier there was excitement, now there was silence—tense, weighty silence. Every student, instructor, and observer leaned forward slightly, as though drawn by gravity toward the center of the ring.
Miren entered first, her violet flame whip coiled around her waist like a serpent. Her expression was unreadable, though her aura pulsed with subtle tension. She knew what was coming.
Vaen Solarius followed.
He walked slowly, deliberately, his golden hair catching the sunlight as though it were drawn to him. He did not draw a weapon. He did not speak. He simply stepped into the ring and looked at his opponent.
Kaelen gave no flourish this time. His hand rose and dropped.
"Begin."
Miren struck immediately.
The violet flame whip snapped forward with explosive speed, bursting outward in a wide arc to catch Vaen off guard.
But he didn't move.
The whip stopped inches from his chest.
The flames sputtered and died.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Even Kaelen's brow twitched.
Miren grit her teeth and lashed again. This time the whip crackled with force, striking down in a flurry of slashes and loops.
Vaen raised a single hand.
A pulse of golden energy erupted outward like a shockwave.
The whip shattered mid-air. The fire vanished. Miren was thrown off her feet, her body skidding across the stone floor.
She coughed, rising to one knee—but Vaen was already before her.
He pressed two fingers gently to her chest.
Golden light bloomed.
Then, silence.
Miren collapsed.
Kaelen stepped forward, stunned but composed.
"Match over. Victory: Vaen Solarius."
The crowd didn't cheer.
They stared.
In the waiting area, Eryon stood frozen. Even Alice, stoic as ever, narrowed her eyes slightly.
Vaen turned, walking back across the arena as if the match had not even happened.
As if no one had been worth drawing his blade.