Ymir raised her trembling hand, her body almost giving out from exhaustion. Her mana core pulsed weakly inside her chest, flickering like a dying star. Sweat rolled down her cheeks, and her knees buckled slightly, but her gaze never left her opponent.
"Ko: Speara Expanda Vas!" she chanted, voice hoarse but firm.
Above her, the air shimmered and twisted as an enormous mana spear began to take shape—denser, sharper, and far more volatile than the ones she had launched before. It hovered in the air, vibrating with force, the sound of raw power humming like an angry swarm of bees.
She exhaled shakily, whispering to herself.
"I'm running out of mana… No… in fact, we both are…"
She turned her head slightly. Rowan, just a few feet away, was breathing heavily. His once-pristine uniform was torn and bloodied. Ash clung to his shoulders. The fire lions he had conjured earlier flickered dimly, flames dimming as the spells began to wane.
Despite everything, he still stood with that same air of superiority. That same pride.
"Hmph," he muttered, flicking his charred wand. "Like I'd lose to a pointy-eared freak."
Across the scorched battlefield stood Elvis, the Elven Kingdom's head knight, still somehow on his feet. His silver hair clung to his sweat-slicked face, and his elegant armor was cracked and scorched in several places. His grin, once smug and playful, had grown tight. Focused. Dangerous.
He was no longer playing.
"You humans really don't know when to lie down," Elvis muttered. His voice was calm, but his breathing was strained.
Rowan gritted his teeth. "You're still talking?" His voice rose. "Let's see how smug you are after this."
He planted his wand deep into the ground. A ring of fire erupted at his feet, searing the earth, and from within it, three lions—his signature spell—burst into life, roaring with flame and fury.
But then… the flames surged.
The fire twisted unnaturally, rising and swirling upward into a spiral. Rowan didn't flinch.
A fourth lion began to form.
This one was larger than the rest, easily the size of a small carriage. Its flames burned darker—deeper shades of crimson and black flickered through its mane. Its eyes glowed a deep orange, embers dripping from its jaws.
Even Elvis blinked.
"What is that…" the elf murmured.
The fourth lion let out a deafening roar, then, at Rowan's silent command, it charged.
Elvis moved, fast, blade ready to cleave it from the air. He met it mid-sprint, slashing downward—but the lion twisted its body, jaws snapping closed on Elvis's ankle mid-air.
"Argh!" Elvis cried out as the lion sank its fangs in.
Then—it exploded.
Flames burst outward in a fiery detonation, engulfing the elf knight and sending tremors through the ground. The nearby trees shook violently. Leaves rained down in the blast's wake, and for a moment, the battlefield was swallowed in smoke and fire.
Rowan dropped to one knee, panting. "Finally… got you…" he muttered, wiping soot from his brow.
But even through the smoke, the shape of a man emerged. Elvis stumbled out of the blaze, one hand clutching his ankle, now blackened and bleeding.
He looked… furious.
But not broken.
"Still… standing?!" Rowan hissed, eyes wide.
Ymir's hand shook, her spear now complete and hovering, humming with force. Her entire body ached from mana depletion, and her head spun. But she stood tall. This had to be it.
"No more games," she said under her breath. Her voice was low, filled with resolve.
She threw the spear.
The mana spear screamed through the air like a comet. The speed of it ripped branches from trees and kicked dust up from the ground. It burned with a golden-white glow, bright enough to blind those nearby.
Elvis raised his sword, staggering.
He tried to leap aside—but he was too slow.
The spear slammed straight into his chest, bursting through armor, bone, and flesh.
For a moment, time stood still.
Elvis's eyes went wide, his body lifted off the ground from the sheer force of the strike. The glow from the spear expanded within him—then exploded outward in a final pulse of light.
His body crashed against a tree and slumped forward, unmoving.
Smoke drifted across the battlefield.
Silence.
And then… a soft groan.
Ymir collapsed to one knee, gasping. Her skin was pale, lips dry. She had pushed herself far past the limit. Her vision blurred at the edges. She barely registered Rowan walking toward her.
He stopped beside her, arms crossed, eyes still locked on Elvis's fallen body.
"That last hit…" Rowan said, voice steady again. "…wasn't bad."
Ymir glanced up at him, barely managing a tired smirk. "Glad you approve… your highness."
"Tch." He rolled his eyes. "Don't get cocky."
But he didn't look away.
Around them, the other elves had begun to retreat, carrying their wounded and dead. Their leader defeated, the fight was over. The tide had turned.
The remaining human candidates slowly emerged from the trees and battlefield—wounded, exhausted, but alive.
Kenneth limped in with a bruised arm, Jasmine helping him walk. Florence and Alexia joined them moments later, their eyes wide at the destruction left behind.
"You guys… really did it," Alexia whispered.
Rowan ignored them. "Hmph. They were all show. Weak under pressure." But then he glanced at Ymir again. "Still… you held your own."
Ymir gave a tired chuckle. "Coming from you, that almost sounds like a compliment."
"Almost," he replied, turning away with a slight grin.
Behind them, the fires began to die, leaving behind scorched earth and the distant sounds of birds returning to the trees.
Rowan adjusted his burned cloak. "Let's move out. If there's one thing I've learned in this cursed forest…" he looked over his shoulder at Ymir, "…it's that the worst may still be ahead."
Ymir nodded, breathing still shallow. But something in her eyes said she was ready.
More than ever.
And so, the two parties—no longer strangers, no longer rivals, but not quite friends—began to regroup.
Together.
Ready for what came next.