CHAPTER 52: NYVERRA AND CAELYN.

But for David, it wasn’t the end.

Azhriel stepped forward. David, barely able to lift his head, groaned in pain. Before he could say anything, another blow smashed into his face. Something cracked—his nose. Blood sprayed.

Then, without pause, Azhriel grabbed him and slammed him into another tree. There was a sickening thud as his back hit the bark, and David cried out.

He couldn’t defend. He couldn’t even beg. The hits kept coming—each one harder than the last. A fist to the ribs, a kick to the side, another strike to the jaw.

Azhriel didn’t speak. His face was cold, his eyes distant. Each blow he landed wasn’t just to win the fight—it was to pay back every insult, every beating, every moment of humiliation he had suffered before.

Finally, the red glow of the teleport crystal flashed. David’s body vanished in a blink, sent out of the arena by the system’s safety feature. He had taken too much damage to continue.

[Thirty Minutes Until The Exam Ends.]

The timer appeared in glowing letters across the sky. Azhriel didn’t even look up. He simply stood there for a moment, catching his breath.

His fists lowered, and slowly, he turned to walk away.

’Ahh, that was satisfying.’

*****

"Sydelle."

Arianne’s eyes narrowed faintly as the girl stepped out of the shadows. The soft forest light glinted off her viridian green hair, smooth and glossy, her movements as graceful as ever.

She looked like she had just walked out of a painting—elegant, calm, and completely composed.

"Oh, hey," Sydelle said casually, as if they had simply run into each other during a morning stroll. She lowered her guard as she walked toward Arianne without hesitation.

Arianne didn’t raise her guard. She didn’t need to. The two of them weren’t exactly close friends, but they weren’t enemies either.

Both came from high noble houses, and because of that, they’d crossed paths more times than either of them could count—balls, banquets, ceremonies, formal gatherings.

Unlike most nobles, they didn’t speak in fake pleasantries. They had no interest in flattery or status games. Perhaps that’s why they had found a strange sort of mutual respect.

Sydelle stopped a few steps away and studied Arianne’s face—her pale skin, the faint dark circles forming beneath her eyes, the flicker in her crimson pupils that dimmed with weariness.

"Are you alright?" Sydelle asked, her voice soft but steady.

"I am," Arianne replied. Her tone was even, but it lacked weight. Her body stood tall, yet her eyes—empty and distant—told a different story.

Sydelle tilted her head, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the matter. "I see... Still, I didn’t expect this. A Seir getting ambushed."

Arianne didn’t react to the word Seir—a title most feared, respected, or worshipped depending on who you asked. It was a name tied to power and bloodline, and yet it didn’t feel like it mattered now.

"Unexpected things happen," Arianne murmured, looking past Sydelle toward the trees ahead. "That’s the nature of ambushes. They happen when you expect them the least."

A soft breeze passed between them, swaying the leaves gently above. Neither spoke for a while.

Sydelle didn’t ask what had happened. She could guess. The battlefield still smelled of blood and mana. The ground was scarred, and faint traces of a fight still lingered in the air.

Instead, she took a few more steps forward and stood beside Arianne, her eyes fixed on the same path ahead.

A small clearing opened up ahead—an empty space free of trees and bushes. And with that clearing came the quiet approach of two new figures.

The first girl stepped into the light. Her hair was deep black, darker than midnight, shining faintly with a subtle obsidian hue. It fell smoothly around her shoulders, catching glints of light with every step.

Her eyes were unusual—swirling shades of purple and blue, like a storm frozen in time. At her waist, a sword rested in its sheath, hanging steady against her hip.

She was Nyverra Arckels, granddaughter of the legendary Sword Saint.

Beside her, another girl appeared—and she drew the eyes like a magnet.

Gorgeous—that was the only word that truly fit her.

Her long, soft hair was the color of cherry blossoms, flowing gently down to her waist like silk in the wind.

Her lashes were long, and every blink was slow and calm, like falling petals.

Her eyes were just as striking—shades of light pink and snowy white mixing together like dawn clouds.

Caelyn Lunaris.

Both of them walked with quiet strength, as if the forest itself moved aside to let them through.

The four stood in the clearing, their eyes locked on one another. A quiet tension hung in the air, the kind that came before thunder.

No one spoke for a while. The only sound was the soft breeze rustling the grass at their feet.

Caelyn blinked slowly, her expression blank, almost bored. Her head tilted slightly, and her eyelids drooped with each breath.

She looked more like someone woken from a nap than a girl standing on the edge of a fight.

Then, without warning, she broke the silence.

"...Are we fighting?" she asked, her voice low and lazy. She rubbed one of her eyes with the back of her hand, like they were just too heavy to keep open. Even that action somehow looked seductive.

Nyverra turned her head to look at her. Her expression was calm, steady, the edge of a swordswoman’s focus already sharpening in her gaze.

She glanced once more at Arianne and Sydelle across the field—both of them sharp, poised and ready.

She nodded. "Yeah, we are."

Caelyn paused, yawning lightly, and gave a slow nod. "Okay."

A low hum filled the clearing, subtle at first—then it cracked. A streak of lightning arced from Sydelle’s fingertips as her arrow formed, strands of pale gold lightning pulling together to shape the curved weapon.

Sparks danced along her arm as she nocked an arrow made entirely of condensed lightning, its tip humming with power.

Across from her, Nyverra’s hand moved to the hilt at her waist. Her fingers closed over it gently, almost with reverence.

Then, with a sound like glass shattering, she drew it.

The blade was obsidian black, darker than shadow, yet it pulsed with a quiet light. Dark element clung to it in a slow-moving mist, writhing along the edges like smoke underwater.

Arianne took one step forward, her own sword already in hand. She raised it calmly, her posture elegant.

Without a word, a sheen of red mist surrounded her, growing thicker at her back and around her arms. The scent of iron followed, faint but noticeable.

Her eyes had returned to their usual calm emptiness, but her stance was focused. She was ready.

Caelyn, still blinking lazily, took a step to the side. Light gathered at her feet in a soft glow, and with the gentleness of a drifting feather, it began to spread upward.

Her hands glowed as well, white and pink light wrapping around her fingers. It felt harmless. Peaceful. But only a fool would ignore the pressure it gave off.

The fight began with a bang—literally.

Caelyn loosed her first arrow, made of entirely of light as It screamed through the air like thunder, bright and fast, and it struck Arianne’s blood shield with a loud explosion of energy.

Sparks flew. The shield held, but only just.

Arianne dashed forward.

Her sword clashed with Nyverra’s. For a moment, the sound was all steel and sparks. Then darkness exploded from Nyverra’s blade, like ink trying to swallow light.

Arianne’s blood magic flared, crimson tendrils pushing back the shadow. Their swords collided again. Neither gave way.

To the side, Caelyn had stepped out of their line. She stretched one arm toward Sydelle, and beams of soft light shot out—gentle-looking, but deadly fast.

Sydelle flipped back, landing on a rock just before one beam singed past her cheek.

"You’re quick," Caelyn mumbled.

Sydelle didn’t answer. She had already launched another arrow. This one split into five mid-air, each arcing like lightning bolts straight toward Caelyn.

A dome of light flared around Caelyn, shielding her, but the ground beneath her cracked from the force.

Nyverra pushed Arianne back with a burst of shadow, then turned toward Sydelle, sensing her exposed flank. She dashed in, blade low, aiming to disable.

Sydelle caught the movement and twisted, releasing another charged arrow, but too late. Nyverra’s blade grazed her shoulder—darkness seeping in.

Arianne wasn’t far. Her blood tendrils wrapped around Nyverra’s ankle and yanked.

Nyverra fell into a roll and came up slashing—just in time to parry another of Arianne’s strikes. Their swords clanged, shadows and blood flaring at the collision.

Caelyn leapt into the fray. One swipe of her glowing palm sent a wave of light outward. The opponents were hit.

Sydelle skidded back, coughing.

Arianne’s blood mist flickered.

"Tired already?" Caelyn asked no one in particular.

The three stood again, breathing heavier now, the toll of fighting straight forward five hours was clearly showing.

Sydelle’s bow flickered, but another arrow formed.

Arianne’s mist swirled thicker.

Nyverra’s blade grew darker.

Caelyn floated a few inches off the ground now, soft light dancing like fireflies around her.

Then they moved.

All at once.

Sydelle launched arrows like rain, her lightning splitting and dancing across the field. Caelyn shot beams of light back, her hands now glowing like miniature suns.

Arianne and Nyverra clashed again, the sound of blood and shadow slamming like waves against stone.

Then Arianne’s sword cut Nyverra’s side. But Nyverra retaliated with a shadow explosion that sent her flying.

Sydelle’s lightning arrow struck Caelyn’s shoulder—but Caelyn also sent a blinding burst of light right back, stunning her.

They were all hit.

All wounded.

Arianne, staggering, raised her sword one last time and pointed it at Caelyn—only for Caelyn to raise her hand too.

Light met blood.

Explosion.

A massive shockwave tore through the clearing. Trees shook. Dirt flew. Smoke clouded the whole place.

When it cleared—

All four girls were on the ground.

Breathing.

Awake.

But unable to move.

Their badges flashed red one by one.

They had all been eliminated.

A draw.

The forest fell into silence again. The system voice echoed.

[Fifteen Minutes Until the Exam Ends.]