"Aaaaahhhh—"
Feardorcha O'Neill's breathing grew ragged as prolonged sword swings and the side effects of the Orga Lux began to take their toll. His stamina was depleting at a frightening pace.
"Huff... huff! Still... can't even touch her?!"
And it wasn't just Feardorcha—audible gasps spread through the audience watching the match.
"Look! That Twelve-Pillar of Seidoukan Academy can't even land a single hit on the Saintess!"
"I'd always heard rumors that the Saintess was strong, but I thought they were just exaggerated stories. Turns out they're true?!"
To the crowd, the name "Wordweaving Strega" didn't hold as much weight as simply calling Elise the "Saintess."
As mentioned before, Elise had carried out relief work around the globe, though she only revealed her true power in rare war-torn regions. In more stable places, she had always been seen as the gentle and compassionate saintess.
Even the camera operators knew what to do by now—focusing close-ups on Elise's expression to give the audience a clearer view.
"Incredible! It's been over a minute since the match started, and Feardorcha's relentless attacks haven't touched Elise once!" the announcer narrated dramatically, hyping up the crowd—though it hardly seemed necessary.
"Indeed. I didn't expect this either," the second commentator added, quickly shifting to a professional tone. "Since enrolling at Saint Galahadworth Academy, Elise has never participated in the ranking battles. Very few have seen her real strength. This is her first time competing in a Festa—her first time revealing her power on such an official stage."
"If I recall correctly, her registered alias is Wordweaving Strega, right? Then in this situation..." the announcer prompted, turning toward the analyst.
"That's right. From the name alone, Wordweaving Strega suggests an ability related to speech. But so far, Elise has done nothing but dodge! Which means..."
"She hasn't even started using her real strength yet!"
Their analysis helped the spectators grasp the situation—and the atmosphere turned electric. Elise's diehard fans began waving their flags with renewed energy and cheering louder than ever.
Now, back to the arena—
"You... you must be in pain, aren't you?"
Elise suddenly spoke, causing Feardorcha to falter, snapping him back to clarity for a moment.
"Using that Orga Lux must be agonizing. I can feel it—your heart is already in tatters."
"Hahaha!" Feardorcha scoffed, laughing wildly. "So what?!"
"I came here to win the Festa! And this Snake Sword Ororomunt gives me the power to do it! Pain? You think I'm scared of pain?!"
"But... even if you wield the Snake Sword Ororomunt, if you don't win, then all you're left with is the suffering it brings. Isn't that right?"
"..."
Feardorcha said nothing. That brief clarity had made him painfully aware of the truth: he hadn't landed even a single hit on Elise.
"I'll win!" he snarled again, his grin twisted in madness more intense than before. "I will become the champion!"
The Snake Sword Ororomuntin his hand began to whip around violently, extending at visible speed as it spiraled outward to form a massive arc that enclosed Elise entirely within it.
From the audience's perspective, the stage now featured a huge semi-circle of glowing fangs, completely hiding Elise from view.
"Take this!"
Feardorcha yanked hard on the hilt—and the ring of blades began rapidly contracting inward, as though to slice the one inside into pieces.
But then...
"Huh? That doesn't feel right..."
The moment the serpent blade closed in, Feardorcha felt a strange resistance. Something was holding it back.
His eyes shifted to the light-fanged blade—it was indeed contracting just as he commanded, yet it was being halted by an unfamiliar white glow.
The blades weren't advancing even an inch!
And then—a chill ran straight up his spine, cold sweat breaking across his brow.
"Apologies..."
An ethereal voice echoed in the air. As soon as it sounded, the balance between the blades and the white glow shattered.
The white light surged outward at an impossible speed, instantly shattering the serpent blade's construct.
From the brilliance emerged the Saintess, Elise Holiness, bathed in a soft milky-white radiance.
"I can't let you win. And more than that… I can't let you continue down this path."
Her sorrow-tinged voice echoed in Feardorcha's ears, dulling the madness that had clouded his mind.
Elise brought her hands together at her chest, making a focusing motion. The surrounding white light began to condense into her palms, forming a sphere of light about the size of an apple.
Skill: Purification!
Sacred Speech!
"Purification: Final Radiance!"
The once-still air trembled under the weight of her power. A massive white beam surged toward Feardorcha.
This is...
Feardorcha stared at the incoming light in a daze. The chaotic haze in his mind cleared rapidly, and his eyes regained focus.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue with a wry grin. "What an incredible little girl... Elise, was it?"
The white light engulfed Feardorcha and blasted against the edge of the stage's protective barrier. But there was no need for alarm—Elise had precisely controlled her output. The barrier wasn't even scratched.
Though the light completely passed through him, it didn't seem to harm him at all. He wasn't even pushed back a step. This left many in the audience puzzled.
Wait, what? That looked like a huge, powerful attack. Why didn't it do any damage?
Crack—
A crisp sound rang out through the arena's broadcast system. Only then did the crowd notice: Feardorcha's school crest had shattered.
The result of the match was now clear.
Even if most of the audience didn't understand exactly what had happened, they still burst into cheers. After all, the commentators would explain everything in a moment.
For now, the Saintess—who had initially been seen as an underdog—had emerged victorious, sending her supporters into a frenzy.
And right on cue, the announcer and commentator chimed in to officially bring Elise's spectacular debut to a close.
"OHHH! Feardorcha O'Neill's crest has shattered!"
"The victor of this match is—Elise Holiness!"