Hundreds of Caelendir's light illusions danced through the air, glowing softly like a lantern festival beneath a summer sky. Every shimmering reflection dazzled the eyes, slicing through the air and scorching the vision of all who watched.
Hayama's pupils narrowed sharply. His breathing grew ragged. Sweat poured down his face, evaporating almost instantly beneath the blazing sunlight perfectly reflected across the white marble floor of the Colosseum.
Like a piece of flesh being roasted upon the altar of the gods.
Within that vortex of light, two Caelendirs emerged simultaneously from opposite directions.
By reflex, Hayama hurled two kunai at once, their whistles cutting through the air like cries of death. Immediately after, he leapt away from his hiding place.
But the kunai merely pierced through shimmering illusions that vanished like mist swallowed by dawn.
"He's starting to lose focus!" shouted one of the Elves from the stands, his eyes gleaming with arrogance.
"Indeed! Prince Caelendir's true body hasn't even moved from its spot," another replied confidently.
Hayama spun quickly, throwing kunai toward multiple points as he tried to predict the movements of the shifting phantoms. But every throw was futile. No real body existed among the fragments of golden radiance.
The human side began to grow uneasy. Nervous whispers spread among them as memories resurfaced of how Dr. Elaina Voss had been destroyed within the illusions of Huli Jing.
"It seems your weakness is beginning to reveal itself, Humans," said The Ancient One mockingly from his throne.
"Your bodies may be trained to perfection," he continued. "But your minds… are far too easy to mislead."
The President merely stared sharply toward the arena. The light of the Colosseum reflected upon the wrinkles of his aging face, adding even greater authority to the tension surrounding him.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Johan smiled faintly. Barely noticeable, yet enough for the observant to realize something was unfolding exactly as he had anticipated.
At the center of the arena, Caelendir's illusions moved closer and closer around Hayama like living mirrors of light. Their overlapping voices echoed together as one:
"I'll ask you again, Human. You entered the kingdom of light without your darkness. How can a shadow such as yourself possibly survive?"
Hayama did not answer. His eyes were half-closed as he breathed heavily.
His head turned right, then left, trying to find lip movements among the countless false bodies that truly seemed to be speaking.
Before he could finish observing, a lightning-fast kick smashed into the side of his head.
His body was hurled across the marble floor, reopening the wound in his shoulder caused earlier by Elysiara's piercing blade.
His body trembled violently. Yet he still forced himself to rise amidst that ocean of sunlight.
Hayama coughed several times. The mask covering his face had begun to loosen from scraping against the marble.
All around him, every Caelendir illusion simultaneously drew their needle-like Elysiara swords. Their movements were flawless and identical—like a hundred suns preparing to pierce a single point of darkness.
"Behold! The pure power of the Sun's holy light!" cried an Elf proudly.
But his voice was abruptly interrupted by someone from the human side.
An elderly scientist with thick glasses, silent until now, leaned forward and spoke firmly in a flat, piercing tone.
"That isn't magic. He's suffering from moderate dehydration."
"De… what?" the Elf asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.
"Dehydration. A condition caused by severe fluid loss," the scientist answered calmly.
"The light striking that black-clad ninja comes from both the sun's heat and the reflection of the white marble beneath him. Together, they're accelerating the evaporation of water from our representative's body. Though… we can't entirely blame Hayama's outfit."
The scientist swallowed hard, sympathy visible in his eyes as he looked toward Hayama.
"His brain is probably beginning to see things that shouldn't exist," he thought anxiously.
Those words slid into the Elves' ears like cold knives.
"How dare you connect our magic to your human science!" shouted one Elf furiously.
"Aurora Sancta is not dehydration! That's nonsense!"
"Arrogant humans!"
Yet among the human spectators, many sat in stunned silence.
Not because of magic, but because the logic and order behind it made the Elves' sorcery appear little more than a natural phenomenon.
Meanwhile in the arena, Hayama slowly lifted his head despite his body still lying against the scorching floor. His eyes faintly glimmered amidst the blinding radiance, like a man who had finally found the direction of the wind.
The illusions closed in tighter around him, as though even the air itself refused to give him room to breathe.
Before he could rise, a real kick slammed violently into his face, sending him crashing once again against the burning marble.
Thunderous cheers erupted from the Elf stands.
To them, victory was already within reach—only one final step away from eternal glory.
One of the Caelendir reflections that appeared most real stared down at his fallen opponent. The needle sword in his hand gleamed beneath the sunlight.
"I acknowledge your persistence," he said calmly, yet coldly. "But forgive me. I do all of this for the prosperity of my people."
The reflection raised its sword high overhead. Light danced across the blade like a miniature sun on the verge of exploding.
Hayama continued staring at it with piercing eyes.
Then—
"REMEMBER YOUR OATH, HAYAMA!"
The loud voice echoed through the stands, cutting through the roaring chaos and piercing directly into his fading consciousness.
"Shinazugawa-san…" Hayama murmured softly as his breathing steadied once more.
Suddenly, he threw away the red scarf wrapped around his neck.
The scarf floated slowly through the air, twisting with the currents of wind sweeping across the arena.
One of the Caelendir reflections reflexively slashed it apart.
The cloth instantly shredded into countless tiny fragments, scattering like red ash beneath the blazing sunlight.
Johan's eyes gleamed. A faint smile appeared on his face.
"There it is…" he whispered quietly.
Moments later, that same reflection suddenly staggered half a step backward.
Its eyes watered. Its nose reddened.
Then—
"Hh-hh… HAAATCHOO!"
A violent sneeze burst from it. Tears streamed uncontrollably from its eyes as its vision blurred.
"What have you done to me, Mortal Creature?!" it muttered while stumbling backward.
And at that very moment, Hayama whispered to himself while using the Kusanagi sword to lift his battered body upright.
"I will clear the path… for my lord."
He immediately surged forward the instant Caelendir staggered back. His movements became blurred and impossibly fast—like a stain flickering at the edge of one's vision.
Caelendir's illusions began collapsing one after another within Hayama's sight, shattering like stained glass struck by a storm.
"Water Surface Slash!" Hayama roared, delivering a horizontal cut flowing as calmly as water itself.
"Aegis Solaris!" Caelendir countered, blocking with his needle sword.
Tinggg!
The two blades collided. The clash of steel exploded through the air, unleashing a shockwave that blasted across the entire arena.
The mythology faction rose to their feet simultaneously, confused as Caelendir visibly lost his balance while continuously rubbing his tearing eyes.
"What's happening to him?" asked Libra, her brows furrowing curiously.
"He's experiencing an allergic reaction," Johan answered, his eyes shining.
"An allergy?" Libra turned toward him. "What is that?"
Johan kept his gaze fixed upon the arena as he explained calmly, without losing his composure.
"An allergy is the body's natural reaction toward substances it perceives as dangerous, even when they aren't truly lethal. The body overreacts. Watery eyes, sneezing, itching, sometimes even loss of focus. It's self-defense gone in the wrong direction."
Libra appeared thoughtful. Her eyes narrowed as though analyzing a condition commonly suffered by mortals.
"Was it because of that red scarf?" she asked.
Johan nodded.
"Yes, Lady Star."
"DAMN IT!" The Ancient One thundered. His voice shook the pillars behind his throne.
"Human magic again?! That's cheating, Lady Libra!"
But Johan stepped forward, bowing respectfully yet firmly.
"With all due respect, Great Ancient One, the agreement was accepted by both representatives."
He paused briefly, carefully choosing his next words.
"Prince Caelendir chose an open altar beneath the blazing daylight. A marble arena that intensified the brilliance of the environment itself. And we?"
His sentence hung in the air. The feathers around The Ancient One's neck stiffened.
"We only requested that every weapon our representative carried be permitted for use. Nothing more."
The Ancient One fell silent for a moment. His expression tightened.
"If that is the case… can our representative truly call this cheating?"
The Ancient One growled softly, unable to refute the logic.
"But that scarf contained some strange substance that caused our representative pain for no reason! That must be long-distance magic from a third party! Isn't that right, Lady Libra?" he accused again.
Johan slowly shook his head.
"No, Great One. It was merely rough hemp cloth sewn together with goldenrod powder woven into every thread."
"Goldenrod powder?" the President suddenly exclaimed, forgetting the situation entirely.
His eyebrows rose, revealing surprise mixed with admiration.
Johan bowed respectfully.
"I repeat, Your Excellency. Everything attached to Hayama's body… is a weapon. Even his clothing."
"You humans truly never run out of tricks," growled The Ancient One, his claws digging harder into the throne's armrest.
Among the stands, a botanist stared toward the arena, where both representatives now fought on nearly equal footing despite the radiant altar.
"I never imagined so many plants would be revealed one after another for the sake of victory in this arena. B-but who would've thought… goldenrod?"
A teenager beside him looked up in confusion.
"What kind of plant is goldenrod, Father?" he asked quietly.
The man took a deep breath before speaking like a professor delivering a lecture.
"Goldenrod is merely a wild plant with bright yellow flowers that grows in open fields. Its pollen is fine, light, and easily carried by the wind."
The teenager slowly nodded before turning back toward the arena.
"And who would've thought creatures like Elves… could actually suffer allergies?" he muttered in amazement, deeply impressed by the calculations of the President's assistant.
He looked toward Caelendir, who still struggled to fight, though he kept blinking rapidly and wiping at his eyes.
And for perhaps the first time in Elven history, he was doing something no Elf had ever done before in their lives—
Sneezing.