Leona's First Match
The arena buzzed with energy. The third day of the Young Champion Tournament continued to draw massive crowds—nobles, priests, and aspiring warriors filled the stands, eager to witness the rising stars of Elydrion.
Inside the grand combat zone, a new name appeared on the crystal display.
[Match 78 — Leona Valerian vs Kaid Varse]
Arthur leaned forward in his seat. Drake, now resting after his own hard-fought battles, watched silently, eyes following the lone figure stepping into the light.
Leona walked into the circular arena, sword at her hip. The sunlight caught the silver lining of her uniform, her short, dark combat jacket fluttering behind her as her long legs carried her with calm, precise steps. Her eyes were steady. There was no hesitation in her expression—only focus.
Across her stood her opponent, Kaid Varse, a bulky swordsman, known for his brute strength and two-handed style. He grinned as he raised his broadsword. "Didn't expect a girl to be my match. I'll end this quick."
Leona said nothing.
The bell rang.
And she vanished.
Kaid barely had time to blink before Wind Pulse Strike hit his left side—fast, clean, and brutal. He staggered, confused, swinging his weapon wildly.
Leona flowed around him like wind, her blade flickering in and out of sight.
"Speed Stance—Basic Slash. Quickstep Edge!"
Her movements became a blur. A series of rapid slashes danced across Kaid's armor, slicing shallow cuts before his guard could even raise.
He roared, turning to strike—only to meet Flowing Counter. Her blade curved like a wave, redirecting his strength into his own footwork. He tripped—hard—and slammed onto one knee.
Before he could rise—
"Wind Fang Slash."
A faint green crescent of energy roared from her sword and hit Kaid square in the chest, sending him skidding across the battlefield.
Silence.
The referee raised his hand.
"Match 78—Leona wins!"
The crowd erupted.
In the stands, Arthur smiled slightly. "She's gotten faster."
Drake gave a tired but impressed nod. "Much faster."
Leona sheathed her sword and turned, walking back with the same quiet grace she entered with—unbothered, unfazed.
One battle down. Many to go.
Three days passed like the arc of a blade—clean, sharp, and unstoppable.
From the moment Leona stepped into the combat zone, silence followed her. Not out of fear, but awe.
A girl with silver-edged footwork, golden precision, and eyes that locked onto her targets like a hawk. She didn't speak much—didn't need to. Her sword did it for her.
⸻
Day One — Whispers of the Wind
Her first opponent, a tall swordsman wielding twin blades, charged without hesitation.
But before he could even swing, Leona's footwork blurred—Quickstep Edge.
Clang!
She was already behind him. One clean slash to the back of the knee. Another to disarm. She didn't wound—just defeated.
In under 20 seconds, the match ended.
"She's… like wind."
"Who is she?!"
"Leona Valerian… House of the Sword and Crown."
⸻
Day Two — Roaring Cheers
Three matches. Three victories. All decisive.
Using her Flowing Counter, she parried a flaming broadsword mid-air, twisted behind her opponent, and delivered a Guard Breaker to shatter his defense.
By the third fight, the crowd no longer watched her like a challenger—they watched her like a rising legend.
"She's the best 9th Mana Circuit!"
"No one's even touched her yet!"
⸻
Day Three — Storm Before the Summit
With eight wins, Leona stood among the few undefeated 9th Mana Circuit participants.
Her last opponent was a defensive duelist, Rank 9 with high endurance. A well-known contender.
But defense meant nothing against Speed Stance, and Wind Pulse Strike tore through his guard like paper in a storm.
With that final victory, the horn of the arena blew—a sharp tone that echoed across the stone walls.
A priest stepped forward and raised his voice.
"Leona from Valerian. Undefeated. You will now proceed to the final Rank 1 Battle. Prepare yourself."
⸻
From the VIP chamber, Arthur watched her walk off the stage. Calm. Still breathing steady.
He leaned forward, golden eyes narrowed with interest.
"She's ready," he whispered.
Drake, still bandaged but watching with a proud smile, nodded.
"She was always ready."
The final battle loomed.
And Leona… was now one step away from the top.
————————
The sun was beginning to dip behind the marble spires of the Valhalla Combat Temple. Its golden rays bathed the arena in solemn light, like the heavens themselves had paused to watch.
A crowd of thousands fell silent.
At the center of the arena—carved with sacred runes and encircled by enchanted obsidian walls—stood two girls. One in silver. One in black.
Leona Valerian, proud swordswoman of the 9th Mana Circuit, the quickblade of House Valerian.
Across from her stood Sibyl, cloaked in white windlight armor, bearing the insignia of the royal combat division. A genius whose grace masked killing intent. Her name had swept through the Empire like wildfire after each match.
But now, there was only stillness.
Leona held her blade forward, golden eyes calm but burning. The Valerian sigil stitched across her back—the sword piercing a crown—shone faintly.
Sibyl narrowed her eyes. Her long pale hair danced lightly in the wind. "You're strong. But I came to take this title."
Leona smiled. "Then draw your sword and try."
The bell rang.
The air cracked apart.
Leona dashed forward in a blur, her sword flashing with Wind Pulse Strike, cutting through the air like a crescent wave. Sibyl slid back, her feet gliding as if skating on wind, and parried with a single motion.
Clang!
Sparks flew. The crowd roared.
Leona spun mid-air, activating Quickstep Edge to disappear from Sibyl's vision for half a breath—then reappeared to her side.
But Sibyl was faster.
A gust of magic surged as A-Rank Skill: Typhoon Bloom exploded in a spiral of spinning windblades, forcing Leona to backflip away, boots digging into the stone floor.
Blood trickled from Leona's arm.
She wiped it away and charged again.
Blade Art: Basic Form.
A dance of slashes followed—graceful, relentless, methodical. Every blow a calculated stroke to break Sibyl's defense. Her blade sang.
But Sibyl didn't yield.
Her defense was like a wall of wind and steel. Flowing Counter met her again and again.
Then, suddenly—Sibyl's stance changed.
Her blade shimmered.
A single, downward strike that split the wind itself.
Leona raised her sword, roaring as she poured her mana into Guard Breaker, trying to intercept—
BOOM.
The impact cracked the floor beneath her feet. Her blade shuddered, bones ringing, feet sliding back.
And then it broke.
Leona's sword cracked down the center, and her knees hit the ground, breath ragged, arms trembling. Mana flickered around her like dying embers.
Sibyl stood above her, blade at her throat, but she didn't move.
The judge's voice rang across the arena. "Winner—Sibyl of House Ilaria!"
Cheers. Deafening. Explosive. Final.
Leona closed her eyes for a second, breathing in the sound—not of failure, but of resolve.
She had lost.
But her fire hadn't gone out.