CHAPTER 127: COULD IT BE... THAT MOTHER...?

"Tectonic Slash... 3.O."

The words left Razeal’s lips like a whispered verdict gone almost as soon as they were spoken.

And then

B O O O M.

The instant his hand descended, the world seemed to break.

It didn’t sound like flesh striking flesh. It sounded like a shaped explosive detonating at point-blank range a controlled demolition charge tearing through reinforced stone.

The pristine white marble floor, flawless just moments ago, caved in beneath the blow. A crater bloomed instantly at the point of impact, spiderweb fractures racing outward in jagged lines.

The enchanted surface resisted as best it could, the runes flaring faintly under the stress, but even Selphira’s reinforced design couldn’t entirely absorb the sheer physical force.

Air exploded outward in a concentric shockwave, rippling visibly like heat haze. It slammed into the arena’s protective dome with a low, thrumming resonance, the sound vibrating through the stands.

Spectators flinched instinctively, hands going up to shield their faces despite knowing they were perfectly safe. The barrier held, the transparent dome shimmering under the impact before settling back into stillness.

Selphira didn’t even blink.

Her glasses caught the reflection of the blast, lenses flashing briefly with the light from the runes. Around her, the floating paper eyes rotated and darted, adjusting angles to capture every conceivable perspective the crater, the dust, the microsecond aftershock of debris tumbling in the air.

But even with all that, the center of the arena was a storm of dust and displaced air.

From the outside, nothing could be seen. No one could tell if Razeal’s strike had connected or not. Both combatants were invisible inside the swirling haze, their outlines swallowed by the churning, opaque air.

Hit? Miss? No one could say.

Far above the arena, in one of the private balconies, a single voice broke the silence.

"What the fuck...?"

Nova stood at the railing, her mouth slightly open, purple eyes locked on the chaos below.

The last time she’d been this stunned was during that absurd moment when Razeal had flicked his finger and produced an impact strong enough to shock the entire arena.

And now... again.

Even without seeing the result, the sound alone told the story the pressure, the way it resonated. The kind of raw power you couldn’t fake.

How did he become this strong?

Her thoughts immediately jumped to the most obvious explanation.

Did he finally awaken his Virelan bloodline?

But then she caught herself. No. That couldn’t be it. Even if he had, it wouldn’t explain this.

The Virelan bloodline’s awakening wasn’t something that happened by accident. It required the Purple Ceremony.

Her gaze dropped to his eyes or rather, the memory of them before the dust swallowed him. Still black. Not the violet blaze that marked the Virelan’s ultimate state.

So no... he hasn’t awakened it.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. What am I even thinking? Without the ceremony, there’s no way to awaken.

And even if he somehow had even if the rules had been broken it still wouldn’t explain the nature of what she had just seen. The Virelan bloodline had its strengths, yes, but this... this wasn’t how it manifested.

No Virelan possessed this kind of raw, overwhelming physicality certainly not at his age atleast.

If anything...

Her thoughts drifted unwillingly to another name.

It’s more like the Dragonwevr body.

And that, at least, would explain the impossible physical power. Dragonwevrs were one of the few bloodlines whose raw physiology could rival and often exceed the destructive force of their magic. Their bones, muscles, and tendons carried the latent strength of their draconic heritage, allowing them to produce staggering force even without channeling mana.

Wait... Her eyes narrowed sharply.

Could it be... that Mother...?

The thought slammed into her mind like a bucket of ice water.

Could it be that Mother had some kind of... relationship... with a male from the Dragonwevr family?

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the idea almost too bizarre to hold.

No. No, that’s ridiculous.

She nearly slapped herself. That woman their had never so much as looked at another man in that way. Not in any way that wasn’t laced with contempt. She had literally killed her own husband for the crime of having kids with him, Just because he was her brother.

The thought of her voluntarily being with any man outside the twisted confines of their family? Impossible.

Stone? Maybe. Yeah she could believe her mother might fall in love with a rock before she believed in her taking a male partner.

Nova exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Gods, I’m letting myself spiral into nonsense.

The truth was simpler she just didn’t have an explanation. And that fact alone was unsettling.

She was happy for him, in a way. Surprised, yes, but proud. Still... beneath that lay a gnawing discomfort.

Because she didn’t know how.

Because she didn’t know where.

Because in her mind’s eye, five years of Razeal’s life were a complete blank.

What had he done in that time? How had he trained? Where had he found this path no one else had ever walked?

She could only imagine the hardwork, the pain, the struggle. The sheer willpower it must have required to push himself this far without the aid of a bloodline awakening.

And the truth was, that mystery bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

---

Back in the arena

The roar of the explosion still echoed through the arena when the air began to change.

At first, it was just a subtle shift the chaotic swirl of dust no longer climbing higher but slowly beginning to sink. The whirlwind lost its fury, its spirals collapsing in on themselves. Particles hung in the air like drifting ash after a wildfire.

And then... the view began to clear.

Through the settling haze, the first thing visible was not Sylva’s face, nor her green vine.

It was... a wall.

Thin. Almost absurdly thin no thicker than a sheet of paper.

Small enough to fit between a man’s hands.

It looked like it shouldn’t even be there, and yet... it was.

A flat plate of earth, perfectly smooth, suspended in the air like a defiant fragment of the ground itself. It had no cracks, no chips, no sign that anything had touched it despite the fact that Razeal’s strike had slammed into it from point-blank range.

Razeal’s hand still rested against it, stopped mid-swing.

His eyes widened for a moment. Not shock he’d seen strange defenses before but genuine surprise that this was what had blocked him.

From zero distance.

Against the swing he’d thrown using flow?.

The shield didn’t even tremble.

But instead of frustration, his lips curled into a grin.

Because the reason he’d gone for that strike in the first place had nothing to do with whether it would hurt her. And what he’d wanted? He’d gotten it.

"Quite a slow reaction," he said, his voice carrying easily through the thinning dust. "If I’d really been using a sword, like you kept suggesting..."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on hers.

"...maybe your head would’ve flown off by now."

Sylva’s body was still in the middle of turning toward him, her movement only half-complete when he’d appeared behind her.

If she hadn’t conjured that earth plate, placed perfectly behind her at the last second, she would have taken the hit full force. Her elemental control had saved her her body certainly couldn’t have.

Faerelith bodies weren’t built for close combat. Physically, they were weak fragile, even.

That was common knowledge. And that was exactly why Razeal had gone for the strike in the first place.

To test whether the rumors were true.

And now... it seemed they were.

Her speed and reflexes could never match his.

Only her magic had.

But Faereliths... they were famous for something else entirely.

Sylva’s head turned the rest of the way. She looked down at his hand, still frozen against her shield, and then met his gaze with a faint smile.

"Slow reaction?" she said lightly. "I admit... your speed surprised me. Even I’ll applaud that much."

Her voice was calm, but her green eyes were sharper now, glinting with an unspoken edge.

"But I think," she continued, "you’ve forgotten something."

Razeal narrowed his eyes slightly, saying nothing.

"Faereliths," Sylva said, her smile deepening just enough to show the confidence behind it, "are never defeated by speed... or by reaction time."

She leaned forward just a fraction, the green in her eyes brightening like light passing through a gemstone.

"And there’s a reason for that."

Her lips parted, voice dropping just enough to make the words feel like a whisper.

"Faereliths... possess absolute defence."

"Oh, no..."

The words left Razeal almost instinctively, not because he didn’t understand, but because he did.

He didn’t even need to hear the rest. His perception, honed to an almost unnatural degree, had already read her intent in the smallest shift of everywhere around him.

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment her voice finished the last syllable, his heel clicked against the marble floor once, sharp and clean.

And in the same instant

BOOM.

Swishhh.

Click

Baaaam.

The ground where he’d been standing erupted.

Hundreds no, thousands of attacks slammed into that single spot, detonating in a layered storm of violence.

They weren’t uniform or even orderly.

They were everything.

Fire roared outward in waves, its heat so intense the air shimmered.

Shards of jagged rock burst upward like fangs from the ground.

Blades of wind scythed through the space, carving the air itself.

Water coiled in high-pressure jets, snapping and thrashing like whips.

Lightning crackled, snapping through the haze with blinding arcs.

Metal spikes drove forward in relentless thrusts.

Sand whipped into razor storms.

Vines lashed and twisted, sprouting from the ground in a violent tangle.

Explosions bloomed like chaotic flowers, their force shattering what little marble remained beneath.

It was as if an entire army had unleashed everything it had every weapon, every element, every possible angle on that one location.

Razeal was no longer there.

He stood now five hundred meters away, the distance between them stretching across the massive expanse of the arena floor.

The place where he’d been was nothing but a smoking, cracked crater, steam and dust rising from its center.

The massive space two full kilometers across meant even this distance still kept them within sight of one another.

Razeal’s lips twitched upward, but the smile wasn’t quite humor it was more... irritation mixed with understanding.

"Absolute defence, My ass..."

Of course he knew about it. Everyone who studied bloodlines knew the term. But despite the name, it had nothing to do with standing still and blocking attacks.

Faerelith "absolute defence" was simply this:

A complete, unrelenting area denial.

They didn’t bother to parry, dodge or even guard.

They just made it impossible for anyone to be near them, drowning the surrounding space in such overwhelming, unpredictable force that physical engagement became suicide.

It wasn’t defense in the traditional sense.

It was erasureeimpossible.

Razeal rolled his shoulders, feeling the faint hum of residual energy from the attack even at this distance

It was a strategy that had worked for Faereliths for generations.

And Sylva was executing it perfectly.

And not to say Sylva Faerelith was considered one of the greatest prodigies in the long and storied history of the Faerelith family. She wasn’t merely talented she was terrifyingly gifted, born with mastery over nearly every elemental affinity known in the world. Where most mages would spend a lifetime honing control over one or two elements, Sylva could call upon them all with casual ease. It was said that her Absolute Defense was among one of the strongest the family had produced.. leaving her untouched.

Razeal had heard the rumors. But seeing her in person was something else entirely.

His left eye twitched involuntarily as he took in the sight before him the place where he had just been standing moments ago was gone. Not damaged. Not cracked. Gone. The marvel stone beneath his feet, famed to be nineteen times harder than diamond, had been blasted into glittering dust, scattered into the air like powder.

And the one responsible for that destruction was now calmly brushing her hair back behind one ear, as though she’d merely swatted away an insect.

Sylva exhaled, her posture relaxing. The storm of power that had erupted a moment earlier seemed to fade as she turned her gaze toward the spot where Razeal had reappeared.

"You’re quite fast," she said with an amused tilt to her lips. Her smile was gentle, almost warm, but her eyes... her eyes held a predator’s calm.

Razeal’s lips twitched again. It wasn’t the compliment that bothered him. It was what surrounded her.

Behind Sylva’s back, the air shimmered with lethal intent. Hundreds of weapons of pure elemental magic floated in the space around her each one honed, perfect, and ready to strike. Razor-thin spears of polished wood. Flaming arrows crackling with searing heat. Blades of water so sharp they could split stone. Wind crescents shimmering like invisible guillotines. And, hovering just slightly apart from the rest, spears of condensed lightning that hissed and popped with lethal energy.

Every single one was aimed directly at him.

And from the way they trembled ever so slightly in the air, he could tell they weren’t just for show at the smallest command from her, they would strike, all at once, faster than the eye could follow.

"How about you just give up?" she said, suppressing a yawn with one hand over her mouth. "We can finish this quickly I go home, And you Umm well can go... wherever it is you want to go. You see i hate wasting time."

Her casual tone didn’t match the battlefield at all. Even after witnessing his earlier demonstration of strength, she seemed utterly unbothered more annoyed at the inconvenience than concerned about any threat he posed.

Razeal rubbed his chin, eyeing the wall of mix elemental death floating behind her. "How about... no."

She raised a brow. "No?"

"I mean," he said, fanning his hand dismissively.

Sylva’s smirk returned, lazy but dangerous. "Then you should at least prepare yourself a good suit of armor. This is going to be... painful." She tilted her head toward the hovering barrage, gesturing with her thumb as if the hundreds of attacks were merely an afterthought.

"Oh, don’t worry about me I have quite some relationship with pain," Razeal replied, stepping forward and planting one foot firmly on the ground. His posture shifted, weight settling into a stance he had developed himself over countless years of training. His arms extended outward, ready.

"If anything..." he said, eyes narrowing, "you should worry about yourself."

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