At the back of the Royal Palace, where the winds always carried the scent of enchanted herbs and the leaves never fell out of sync with the seasons, lay the vast Training Ground, an arena forged from moonstones and roots woven together by time. It was there that the warriors of the royal lineage learned, bled, and awoke to the power hidden in their own veins.

That morning, the sky was covered in a golden mist, a sign that magic was thick in the air... so dense that it made the edges of vision flicker. The three young women were already in position, their eyes sharp, their muscles tense, and their hearts beating to the sound of invisible drums that only true warriors heard before a confrontation.

In the center of the field, Eleonor floated gently above the ground, her black dress billowing like living smoke. Her eyes were half-closed, but her mind was focused on every breath, every pulse of aura around her.

"This is going to be fun," she thought, smiling.

She descended lightly to the ground, her feet touching the earth reverently. With a quick, precise movement, she snapped her fingers, and arcane runes lit up around the field... marking the boundaries, amplifying physical resistance, and canceling external interference. The battle that would follow would be real, but controlled. Almost.

"Attention, girls." Her voice cut through the air like a crystal arrow. "This is no longer a fight between children. So I don't want a simple demonstration of power."

Sylphie was kneeling, her palm touching the ground, her eyes closed. Behind her, flowers that had not existed seconds ago sprouted with absurd naturalness. Medicinal herbs, thorny vines, ancient lichens. Nature obeyed her as if recognizing in her a long-lost mother.

Irelia spun her sword with steady hands, her eyes marked by concentration. When she cut the air, it actually split—a prismatic crack that vibrated for a few seconds before disappearing. Her blade was now capable of cutting magic. A legendary gift that even arcane masters would envy.

Amelia was surrounded by shards of ice that did not shine but absorbed light. A deep cold surrounded her body, but without leaving vapor—as if she had disconnected from ordinary physics. She molded blades, shields, and chains with that ice that did not melt. The strength of her creations made ordinary steel look like wet paper.

Eleonor watched them with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes.

"The magical acceleration I used on you... brought mutations, as I suspected." She began to walk among them like a trainer of mythical beasts. "Irelia, you have developed an extremely rare ability. Cutting magic is not only useful... it is devastating, if used with precision. I've seen kings kneel in fear of a warrior with this gift."

She approached and adjusted Irelia's posture, subtly pulling her shoulder back. "But you still think too much before cutting. Cut without thinking. Magic already does that for you. It's natural for you now. Don't hesitate."

Irelia swallowed hard and nodded.

Eleonor then moved on to Amelia, lightly touching one of the ice formations with her fingernail. The sound it made was like thick glass against runic stone.

"And you... this ice... it's not natural. It's not from water. It's a condensation of magical stagnation itself. A very rare material that doesn't belong to this cycle. It doesn't melt because it wasn't born from moisture. It was born from permanence. Freezing reality into solid form. Beautiful and dangerous."

Amelia lifted her chin, feeling pride almost escape through her pores—but she remained restrained.

"It's heavy, but it obeys me," she murmured. "I still can't create it on a large scale... but what I make with it, no one can break."

Eleonor smiled with genuine approval, then slowly turned to Sylphie.

The young woman was standing now, her hair floating as if she were underwater. Branches sprouted from her arms, winding gently, and her eyes shone with a deep emerald hue, like those of the ancient gods of the forests.

"And you..." Eleonor said in a lower tone. "Your fusion with nature is complete. You don't just summon or manipulate. You are. You create biomes with your thoughts. You teleport through living fields. You merge with the ground, the wind, the fauna."

She sighed, a hint of concern mixed with pride.

"Between the three of you, you are almost equal in strength. But you, Sylphie... have the widest range. You are like a knife that cuts, pierces, cooks, and even dances in the hand of those who know how to use it."

Irelia gritted her teeth.

Amelia clenched her fist.

"That's unfair..." whispered Irelia.

"Unfair would be fighting with limitations," replied Eleonor coldly. "The world isn't fair. Magic even less so. And I say almost equal because what still weighs on this scale is simple: combat. Experience. Instinct. And that, my dears... can still turn the tide in favor of any one of you."

She raised her hand, and the field trembled slightly at her command.

"FIGHT."

And as if a wall of air had exploded in the center, the battle began.

Irelia was the first to move, advancing in a zigzag pattern with her glowing sword in hand, aiming directly at Sylphie. The elf retreated with an agile leap, but before touching the ground, she disappeared into a whirlwind of leaves that completely enveloped her. In an instant, she reappeared behind Amelia, her hands covered in living wooden thorns, ready to pierce.

Without hesitation, Amelia raised an opaque shield of ice, which appeared like an instant wall, blocking the blow and shattering part of the thorns with a sharp, cracking sound.

Irelia spun in the air, descending in a precise and fierce cut, aiming at Sylphie from the side. A beam of pure magical energy tore through the air, but Irelia's sword cut through the magic as if it were wet paper, eliciting an apprehensive silence from the audience.

Sylphie, surprised, disappeared in a flash and reappeared atop a conjured tree right in the center of the arena. From there, she raised her hands and summoned explosive vines that extended like living whips, attacking in all directions.

Amelia leapt to the side, conjuring a spear of black ice that sliced through the air and struck the treetop. The muffled explosion that followed raised a cloud of leaves and steam that temporarily obscured the field.

Irelia took advantage of the fog to advance stealthily, her eyes fixed on Amelia. Her blows came fast—one, two, three—and each time her sword touched the ice, magical sparks burst forth, disintegrating protective enchantments in real time.

Amelia growled, defending herself with determination, her ice reshaping and strengthening itself at unusual angles, forming impenetrable labyrinths around her.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Irelia's feet rose—roots and grass grew with force, rising to her knees, partially trapping her. In the center of the arena, Sylphie reappeared with her hands raised like a conductor of a wild symphony.

"The field is mine now," she declared, her voice full of authority. "Every leaf, every thorn. You are inside my world."

But Irelia laughed, full of defiance. "Then I will cut it down."

With a fierce cry, she spun on her axis, cutting through the surrounding roots as if they were solid mist, and the magical aura that sustained the field burst into bright sparks. However, in response, a giant tree, conjured by Sylphie, collapsed on top of her—its trunk hollow and its branches sharp as spears.

Amelia reacted quickly, firing three simultaneous ice spears at the tree. At the exact moment before the wood hit Irelia, the spears shattered it into pieces.

For a moment, only the whisper of the wind could be heard.

Three young women remained on the field, panting, sweaty, their eyes burning with determination. Their firm stances, each mastering their magic and talent, orbited like distinct worlds about to collide.

The silence that followed the explosion of the ice spears was so intense that it seemed to contain the very breath of the field. The three young warriors, though exhausted, showed no sign of retreat—their strength burned like live embers, fueled by adrenaline and pride.

Irelia was the first to recover, shaking off the roots that still clung to her ankles and pointing her sword at Sylphie. Her gaze was sharp, determination shaping every tense muscle. "The game is over," she muttered, advancing with steady, calculated steps.

Sylphie, still standing in the center of the field, smiled with a wild gleam. The leaves around her began to vibrate as if a green storm were about to explode. "Then come, cut whatever you want. I am the forest." And with a fluid movement, her body dissolved into a cloud of emerald dust, spreading across the field like a wind that brought life.

Before Irelia could react, Amelia slid forward, her eyes glowing with condensed black ice. She raised her arms, summoning a freezing storm that scattered crystalline needles in the direction where Sylphie had disappeared, as if she wanted to tear the air itself apart.

However, from the middle of the ice storm, Sylphie reappeared at full speed, wrapping herself in vines that twisted and coiled around Amelia's body with relentless force. The young warrior tried to resist, molding a shield of solid ice, but the vines continued to tighten, as if nature itself had decided that this would not be her victory.

Irelia took advantage of the distraction and ran around, preparing a blow that combined speed and cutting magic. Her sword glowed with a prism of blue light, ready for a fatal attack.

Sylphie, sensing the imminent danger, stretched her hands toward the ground. Suddenly, the ground beneath Irelia's feet opened up, and sharp roots emerged, trapping her again, but now with more force, climbing up her legs and arms like living snakes. Irelia struggled, cutting as much as she could, but the plant magic seemed to want to suck her into the earth.

Amelia managed to free herself from the vines and advanced toward Sylphie, raising a long, black spear that glowed with the same coldness as the night. Sylphie leaped backward, disappearing again in a cloud of leaves, and reappeared at the side, bringing a rain of thorns that fell like sharp arrows.

Amelia spun her body, transforming the shards of ice into a moving barrier that blocked the thorns, protecting herself from the deadly rain. Then, with a quick movement, she launched a counterattack: a sharp spear that cut through the air toward Sylphie.

However, before the spear could reach its target, Irelia, free from the roots, threw herself in front and intercepted the weapon with her sword, which glowed with pure energy. The impact between ice and blade reverberated across the field, creating sparks and a magical shockwave that forced both of them to retreat.

The three warriors stared at each other for a moment—eyes ablaze, breath heavy, bodies marked by the fight, but neither willing to yield.

Sylphie was the first to move, advancing with the speed of the growing forest itself. She raised her hands and summoned a storm of sharp leaves, which swirled around like cutting blades, trying to wound her opponents.

Irelia rolled to the side, using her sword to cut through the whirlwind of leaves, while Amelia created a solid shield of ice that blocked the frontal attacks.

The field shook when Sylphie stamped her foot on the ground, causing vines and roots to sprout at her feet, grabbing the earth with supernatural force and seeking to trap Irelia and Amelia.

Irelia responded by spinning her blade in wide arcs, releasing cutting waves that pulverized the advancing roots. Amelia, in turn, molded blades of ice that she threw with deadly precision, seeking to silence Sylphie's attacks.

The confrontation took on a frenetic pace—the agility of the blades, the raw power of nature, and the relentless resistance of the ice intertwined in a deadly dance. The full series lives on My Virtual Library Empire (M|V|L0EMPYR).

At a decisive moment, the three rushed toward each other, like comets colliding in orbit.

Irelia was the first to strike, her sword glowing blue as she aimed for Sylphie's head.

Sylphie dodged to the side with the grace of a panther, raising a whip of thorny roots that attempted to entangle Irelia.

Amelia, approaching from the right, hurled a frozen spear directly at the base of the roots, shattering them into pieces.

Irelia seized the opening and attacked with a series of quick cuts, trying to unbalance Sylphie.

But Sylphie, with an almost impossible movement, created a green energy field that absorbed some of the blows, and with her hands open, she launched a burst of magical spores that enveloped Irelia and Amelia, slowing their movements.

The magical mist slowly dissipated, revealing the three with ragged breaths, eyes flaming with effort and determination.

It was then that, almost simultaneously, the three noticed each other's openings.

Irelia launched a horizontal strike with her sword, while Amelia conjured a black ice spear, and Sylphie sent a whip of roots that snaked toward both of them.

In that instant, Irelia's blade cut through the whip, Amelia's ice intercepted Irelia's blow, and Sylphie's whip struck the ice spear, causing both attacks to collide in midair.

The impact was colossal—an explosion of energy, ice, and leaves that raised a wave of magical dust and made the ground shake beneath their feet.

When the mist cleared, the three stood there, motionless, their weapons raised to chest height, staring at each other with respect and recognition.

None had yielded, none had been dominated.