_Chella went to the medical ward to treat herself, during the process she too started thinking about the match outcome_.
Her blade glinted under the arena lights, then cut through Sora's defense like a knife through silk. The impact was brutal, yet clean—an expert strike. It pierced flesh, drawing a vivid red line across Sora's side as the sound of steel meeting bone echoed across the field.
Sora's eyes widened for a split second. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as pain surged through her. Her knees buckled, and she stumbled back, one hand clutching her side. The blade had struck true.
Then, chaos.
The crowd exploded into shouts—some cheering wildly, others gasping in horror. The energy in the arena became electric, raw with adrenaline. People stood from their seats, eyes wide, jaws hanging open. This wasn't just another match. This was history in the making.
Chella, panting and battle-worn, stood tall, her sword dripping blood. Her eyes darted around the arena as if trying to ground herself. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat streaking down her brow. She didn't smile. She didn't celebrate. She just stared at Sora—waiting.
But then, something changed.
Sora, who had nearly collapsed, suddenly tensed. Her fingers dug into the dirt beneath her as a guttural cry escaped her lips. Her body began to glow—a brilliant gold that pulsed like a second heartbeat.
The arena fell silent.
Sora's limbs trembled, but she pushed herself up. Her muscles screamed in protest, blood dripping freely, but her eyes were clear—burning with unshakable resolve. She wasn't standing through strength. She was standing through will.
The ground around her shimmered. The air vibrated as if the laws of physics paused to admire her courage. It was as though reality itself held its breath.
Chella's jaw clenched. Her stance shifted slightly. She could feel it—Sora's energy was no longer just strong. It was otherworldly.
Then came the words:
"Water God Form One: Water God Arrow!"
Sora raised one arm to the sky, her palm glowing a deep ocean blue. Her entire body was cloaked in a serene, flowing aura—like water in motion. Mist swirled at her feet as tendrils of liquid energy formed around her, spiraling toward her hand and solidifying into a shimmering arrow made of water.
Chella's eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly. Her pupils contracted as awe washed over her. Her hands tightened around her sword, but her arms were slow to move—almost frozen by the sheer beauty and terror of what she was seeing.
The arrow launched.
It flew fast—too fast. It tore through the air, aimed straight at Chella's chest. She raised her sword in defense, but her body felt like it was moving through molasses. The look on her face shifted to panic. Her feet shuffled slightly, but she was rooted in place.
Then… the arrow vanished.
It dissolved into mist inches from its target.
Sora's glow faded all at once. Her eyes rolled back, and her body collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. She hit the ground with a thud, motionless.
Chella stared in disbelief, then lowered her blade.
She exhaled—slowly, heavily—then let her shoulders drop. She took a hesitant step forward, standing above Sora's still form, and whispered to herself, "If she had aimed just a bit lower... right through the heart of my guard... I wouldn't have stood a chance."