Hayama staggered through the rubble and settling dust. Every step left streaks of blood across the gleaming marble floor.
He was certain that brutal attack should have been enough to bring down even an Elf.
His eyes shifted toward the thrones of each race's leaders. Yet Libra still floated calmly in the air.
Hayama's brow furrowed.
"Why hasn't she—?"
A shadow suddenly lunged from within the cloud of smoke.
"Corona Vitae!"
Hayama's instincts screamed. His body twisted sharply.
A flash of light pierced through the left side of his chest. Heat instantly spread from the wound, like molten sunlight forced into his body.
The reflexes honed through years of training made him shift just enough. The needle-like blade of Elysiara missed his heart by inches and instead pierced through his left shoulder.
"Arghhh!!"
His teeth clenched tightly. Blood flowed from the corner of his lips, dripping onto his black clothing.
Hayama's pupils widened as he saw Caelendir's appearance now.
Blood streamed from the Elf's forehead, soaking much of his face red. Yet his smile had changed into a sharp grin—far more unsettling than the arrogant smile he wore before.
"I missed?" Caelendir whispered hoarsely, raising one eyebrow.
"But what about this?"
He slowly twisted the blade.
The sound of metal grinding against flesh echoed painfully.
Hayama trembled violently. His jaw tightened to suppress a scream as his hand immediately grabbed Caelendir's wrist to stop the motion.
"You're groaning? Does it truly hurt that much, Mortal Creature?" Caelendir smiled. A cold smile that no longer carried nobility—only savagery born from satisfaction.
Hayama gathered the last of his strength.
His trembling hand reached toward the weapon pouch behind his waist.
Pooff!
Another smoke bomb exploded between them, cloaking the area in thick smoke smelling of gunpowder and ash.
Caelendir glanced around, but his focus quickly returned to the figure before him when he heard the wet sound of flesh being pulled away from steel.
By reflex, Caelendir reached for Hayama's clothing to stop him.
Too late.
Once again, Hayama escaped his grasp.
Caelendir shouted through the fog, his voice echoing throughout the arena.
"Keep hiding, Mortal Creature! Become nothing more than a rat of the night, incapable of wounding me any further!"
Hayama managed to hide behind one of the crystal pillars. His body bent in pain.
His breathing was heavy. His eyes stared at the blood covering his own hand. He realized this battle had already gone far beyond the limits of humanity.
His mind raced, but every passing second only made his light fade while the world around him grew brighter.
"Why? Why isn't that man dead yet?" he muttered, clutching his head as confusion began consuming him.
Caelendir's voice echoed once more—cold and filled with fury.
"Then…"
He panted heavily. Every word came mixed with blood and breath.
"I will erase every shadow that exists here!"
The Elf's body began to glow softly. He raised his sword toward the heavens, moving in a slow dance resembling an ancient ritual.
Hayama peeked from behind the pillar reflecting light from every direction, trying to understand the meaning behind those movements.
Step by step, Caelendir danced.
Soft radiance formed around him. His golden hair shimmered like strands of morning sunlight.
Several seconds passed.
The light that once appeared as faint white traces now expanded like an aurora spreading across a frozen polar sky.
Suddenly, his movements stopped.
A moment later, Caelendir closed his eyes and positioned the needle sword before his chest.
"Is it over?" Hayama whispered through ragged breaths.
"Aurora Sancta: Helio Kikyo."
Hayama's pupils widened. His instincts immediately screamed that this attack would dwarf all the previous ones.
Light exploded outward.
The arena blazed as though it had transformed into an ocean of suns.
The crystal pillars shone like sacred lanterns. Then from Caelendir's body emerged dozens of shimmering illusions, perfectly mimicking his every movement.
Hayama stiffened.
His feet almost moved farther back, but he stopped himself. He no longer knew where he could even hide.
Cold sweat rolled down his temples as his eyes failed to distinguish the real opponent from the mirages.
The mythology stands erupted into thunderous cheers. The Elves rose to their feet, their eyes widening at the sacred dance so rarely performed by noble Elf bloodlines.
"That dance—!" cried an Elf clad in dark violet robes.
An elderly Elf seated among the honored guests nodded slowly, golden reflections dancing in his eyes.
"That is Aurora Sancta: Helio Kikyo. A sacred dance that calls upon the Sun itself to lend its light."
Whispers of awe spread among them.
But suddenly, from the human stands opposite them, a firm voice cut through the admiration.
"That isn't magic."
An elderly man in military attire stood while staring toward the arena with deep concern etched across his face.
The Elf spectators immediately turned toward him.
"What do you mean, Human?" one demanded sharply.
The old man stared back, his eyes sharp beneath the wrinkles of age.
"It's a mirage."
"A mirage?"
The atmosphere in the stands instantly grew tense. Even Libra, seated between the two thrones, slowly turned her gaze toward them.
The man continued in a deep, knowledgeable voice:
"If that technique truly manipulates light, then what we're seeing now isn't magical duplication. It's optical manipulation on an inhuman scale."
His words caused an uproar across the arena.
The Elves who had proudly celebrated moments earlier now exchanged uneasy glances.
Their faces tightened between shock and offense.
"How dare you arrogantly pretend to explain magic you've only witnessed for the first time!" hissed an Elf woman, her voice trembling slightly.
"I'm only trying to explain something that we…"
His sentence halted. His gaze pierced toward the stunned rows of Elves.
"…study every single day."
Silence blanketed the arena for several seconds.
Libra looked toward them with a sharp yet curious gaze. The corner of her lips lifted into a faint smile difficult to interpret—half admiration, half intrigue.
"Even amidst a battlefield of pure light," she murmured softly, "humanity still manages to connect it with their science."