[Timeline: Day 3 of the Tournament – Finals] [Location: The Arena Floor]
"I'm right?" Nero raised an eyebrow. He looked at the bloody girl limping toward him with a shard of glass in her hand.
"Right about what?"
Elena didn't answer immediately. She coughed, a spray of red staining her chin. She adjusted her grip on the jagged lens shard, letting it slice into her own palm. The pain kept her awake.
"About my family," Elena rasped. "About pride."
She took another step. Her left leg dragged behind her, the broken shinbone grinding.
"My mother taught me that magic is art," Elena whispered, her voice gaining a strange, hollow strength.
"She taught me that a Solari taught me that Solaris never bend their back no matter what."
She looked at her ruined uniform. She looked at her broken fingers.
"But art doesn't win fights, does it, Nero? Survival does."
Nero scoffed. "And you think you can survive me with a piece of trash in your hand?"
