Slowly, a new figure stepped onto the opposing platform: taller, broader in the shoulders, and carrying a heavier dual-blade style. His name was Rylan Crowe, a late 3rd-year known for endurance and crushing pressure rather than pure speed.
The moment he appeared, the tone in the stands shifted.
"They’re sending Rylan already?"
"He’s one of their stamina monsters. He can grind people down over long exchanges."
"Seraph just finished a full match. This is going to be rough for her."
Seraph exhaled once, then stepped back onto the platform without hesitation.
Golden light began to gather along her sword again, though the initial flare was a fraction less dense than it had been at the start of the first fight.
She settled into her stance, feet light, blade angled forward.
The referee’s staff came down.
"Begin!"
Rylan moved like a rolling wave.
Fwoop!
He advanced with heavy steps, with both blades sweeping in wide, overlapping arcs that forced Seraph to give ground early.
Clank!
Each clash sent a deep vibration up her arms.
Where Caden had relied on speed and wind-enhanced edges, Rylan relied on weight, continuous forward pressure, and the simple fact that he could keep swinging long after most opponents began to slow.
Seraph met the first sequence with precise golden parries.
Her aura flared on contact, cutting the force of each heavy blade just enough to keep her from being driven off the platform.
She circled left, then right, trying to break the rhythm. Rylan adjusted instantly, always keeping one blade ready to cut off her escape while the other pressed the attack.
CLANG!
CLANK, SWOOP!
The crowd leaned in.
"She’s still clean on the blocks."
"But look at her footing, Rylan’s already making her work harder for every step."
"That golden aura is holding, but it’s costing her."
Seraph attempted to seize the initiative the way she had against Caden.
Fwip!
She condensed her golden sword aura into a sharper edge and launched a rapid series of thrusts and rising cuts aimed at forcing Rylan onto the defensive.
For a short stretch it worked.
The denser golden light made each of her strikes heavier than her frame suggested, and Rylan was forced to respect the aura’s cutting power.
He gave two steps, then three, his dual blades flashing as he deflected rather than met her head-on.
Then the endurance gap began to show.
Rylan absorbed the flurry without overcommitting, letting Seraph spend the burst.
When her sequence ended, he immediately stepped back into range and resumed the grinding pressure.
A heavy diagonal, a low sweep, then a rising cross-cut.
Each attack was slightly faster than the last as he found his rhythm.
Seraph’s golden aura still answered every blow, but the light along her blade flickered more noticeably between clashes.
In the VIP section, Gloria watched with cold focus.
"She’s already softer than the first match," she murmured.
Aurora’s expression remained calm, though her eyes tracked the gradual thinning of Seraph’s aura with quiet attention.
On the platform, Seraph tried to create breathing room with a wider golden arc meant to push Rylan back.
He stepped through the outer edge of it, accepting a shallow cut along one forearm in exchange for closing distance again.
His dual blades hammered down in a relentless series that forced Seraph into pure defense.
Her boots slid across the reinforced stone.
Sweat appeared at her temples.
The golden light around her sword remained present, but it no longer held the same continuous density.
The crowd’s commentary grew sharper.
"She’s tiring."
"Rylan hasn’t even used a named technique yet, and he’s already controlling the center."
"Clementine’s first fighter is running on fumes from the previous match."
Seraph knew it too.
She could feel the residual drain from the fight against Caden still sitting in her limbs and meridians
. Every full-powered clash with Rylan’s heavy blades cost her more than it cost him.
She began shortening her movements, conserving where she could, looking for a single clean opening that could end the match before her aura fully destabilized.
Rylan gave her none.
He kept the pressure constant, varying the angle and timing just enough to prevent her from settling into a defensive rhythm.
When she tried to slip to his outside, one blade was already there.
When she attempted a sudden forward burst, he met it with a cross-block that jarred her shoulders and forced her back again.
Minutes stretched, and slowly, Seraph’s breathing grew heavier.
The golden aura along her sword began to waver at the edges during longer exchanges. Still she refused to collapse.
She continued meeting every heavy strike, continued looking for the smallest gap, continued forcing Rylan to actually work for each advance.
That, more than anything, began to irritate the Gloria fighter.
He had expected a tired 2nd-year to fold once the initial burst faded.
Instead she kept answering, kept cutting, kept making him spend real mana to maintain the pressure. His own breathing deepened.
A thin sheen of sweat appeared across his brow. The dual blades still moved with power, but the effort was no longer effortless.
In the stands, sharper eyes noticed.
"She’s draining him even while losing ground."
"Rylan’s output is higher than it should be against someone this fatigued."
"If she can hold a little longer, the next Clementine fighter will face a tired opponent."
Seraph’s vision narrowed.
Her arms burned.
The golden aura flickered again, thinner now.
Rylan sensed the final softening and committed to a finishing sequence, three heavy, consecutive overhead strikes designed to break her guard through pure cumulative force.
She met the first.
She met the second.
On the third, her golden aura shuddered and thinned past the point of reliable defense. The dual blades crashed through.
FWAMP!
The platform’s safety threshold flared.
Seraph’s body glowed with the light of elimination.
She vanished from the arena.
The referee’s voice carried over the mixed reactions of the crowd.
"Victory to Rylan Crowe of Gloria Academy!"
Applause and commentary rose at once. Many praised Rylan’s steady pressure. Others, however, focused on the cost.
"He won, but look at him."
"He’s breathing hard. That match lasted longer than it should have."
"Seraph took a lot out of him before she went down."
On the platform, Rylan lowered his dual blades and rolled one shoulder, clearly feeling the accumulated strain.
His mana was not broken, but it was no longer at the comfortable level he had started with.
He had been forced to maintain high output for far longer than expected against a fighter who should have already been spent.
Then, the referee’s voice rang out across the arena once more.
"Clementine’s Sword & Magic Academy, send your next representative!"
One of the two 4th-year girls rose from the bench without hesitation.
She was tall, with a calm face and a long, single-edged sword resting at her hip.
Her name was Elira, a quiet but highly regarded fighter within Clementine who specialized in clean, decisive swordsmanship rather than flashy techniques.
She gave Gray a brief glance, received only his usual indifferent look in return, then stepped onto the elevated platform.
When Ryan saw that Clementine had sent a 4th-year, his expression tightened, but he forced the tension down and raised his weapons again.
The crowd reacted immediately.
"They’re sending a 4th-year already."
"Rylan just finished a grind match. This timing is brutal for him."
"Elira Voss... she’s one of the cleaner sword users in Clementine’s upper years."
The referee’s staff came down.
"Begin!"
Rylan tried to seize the initiative the same way he had against Seraph, advancing with heavy, overlapping dual-blade pressure meant to force an early defensive posture.
The first cross-cut came in fast and hard, both blades scissoring toward Elira’s midsection.
Elira did not give ground.
Claaaaang!
Her sword left its sheath in a single, fluid motion and met the dual blades at the precise point where their force overlapped.
A sharp, clear ring echoed across the platform.
The impact that should have driven her back instead stopped cold. Rylan’s eyes widened a fraction as the rebound traveled up both of his arms.
Elira stepped in.
Her blade moved in a short arc that slipped between his guard and scored a controlled line across his right shoulder.
The platform’s protective threshold registered the contact but did not yet trigger elimination. Rylan immediately tried to reset, swinging both blades in a wide defensive sweep to create space.
Elira was already inside that space.
She moved with a calm, almost understated rhythm, never wasting motion, never overcommitting.
Every step placed her at a better angle. Every cut forced Rylan to choose between protecting one line or another.
His dual-blade style, so effective at grinding down a fatigued opponent, found far less purchase against someone who refused to be drawn into a prolonged exchange.
CLANG!
SHING!
CLANG!
Rylan attempted to recreate the heavy sequential pressure that had eventually broken Seraph.
Three consecutive overhead strikes came down with all the power he could still muster.
Elira parried the first with the flat of her blade, redirected the second past her shoulder, and on the third simply pivoted off-line and cut upward across his exposed ribs.
The golden-tinged residual light from the platform’s safety arrays flickered as the strike registered.
Rylan staggered.
The crowd’s tone shifted rapidly.
"She’s dismantling him."
"He can’t even settle into his rhythm."
"Seraph already took the stamina out of him, Elira is just finishing the job cleanly."
Rylan gritted his teeth and tried one of his stronger techniques, pouring remaining mana into a dual-blade art that created a short-range storm of heavy, intersecting cuts.
The air around him distorted under the force. Elira watched the technique form, then stepped through a narrow gap in the pattern with precise timing. Her sword flashed once.
The technique collapsed.
A clean strike landed against the side of Rylan’s neck.
And instantly...
Swoosh!
The elimination light flared brightly around his body.
Rylan Crowe vanished from the platform.
Silence held for half a breath.
Then the arena reacted.
"That was fast!"
"She didn’t even let him breathe!"
"Rylan looked completely outclassed once a fresh 4th-year stepped up."
On the platform, Elira lowered her sword and gave a short, polite bow toward the empty space where her opponent had stood.
She turned and walked back toward the Clementine bench with the same calm expression she had carried onto the stage.
In the VIP section, several nobles exchanged glances.
"The difference in condition was decisive."
"Seraph did more damage than it looked. Rylan had nothing left for a real 4th-year."
Gloria’s face remained cold, but her fingers tapped once against the armrest of her seat. Aurora’s faint smile had returned.
On the Clementine side, the remaining 4th-year and the 3rd-year both gave Elira small nods of approval as she sat back down.
Gray’s gaze lingered on the platform for a moment longer before returning to its usual calm detachment.
The referee’s voice rose again.
"Victory to Elira of Clementine’s Sword & Magic Academy! Gloria Academy, send your next representative!"
Gloria still had twenty-five students remaining.
Clementine had three.
Chapter 394: Inter-Academy Tournament (XLVI)
9 min read