Blazing Fury
Ashytara Solenute, clad in surprisingly heavy armor, stepped onto the training ground. Even with the armor on, she didn't look burdened in the slightest. Gripping a massive cross-shaped greatsword as tall as she was, she fixed her gaze on Mion Altis. Her sea-blue eyes were eerily calm, like staring into the lightless depths of the ocean. It was a murderous glare that made one feel she could tear a person apart without hesitation—a chilling killing intent that sent involuntary shivers down the spine. The professors watched Mion with puzzled expressions, wondering if this was really the look one student should give another from the same class.
Mion, sensing the stares around her, clicked her tongue in annoyance. 'She doesn't sit right with me.' The entire situation, refusing to bend to her control. With that thought, Mion drew her own sword—a rapier that looked frail in comparison to Ashytara's greatsword. Yet she held it with overflowing confidence, assuming her stance.
"The use of divine power is permitted, but any act threatening the opponent's life is forbidden. Let the duel begin."
Judging both sides ready, Enrique the supervisor quietly announced the start.
The moment the duel began, the air around Ashytara churned, whipping up a scorching hot wind. It wasn't long before the heat swirling across the training ground erupted into a ferocious storm of flames. And yet, Ashytara stood unscathed, the fire cloaking her body.
"My god..."
The onlookers could only gape in awe. Even the Innocence-rank students who'd witnessed her incinerate illusion erosion beasts in an instant were no exception. The flames enveloping her now were even more overwhelming than before.
But the blaze didn't rage for long. Soon, the hot wind compressed into her sword. Her originally ash-gray greatsword glowed red as it absorbed the heat, igniting fiercely, and Ashytara gripped it expertly with both hands.
Mion broke into a cold sweat watching the scene. 'Is she insane?'
Their levels were worlds apart. Mion couldn't help but think it. A preemptive strike? If Ashytara hadn't contained the heat pouring from her body into her sword, Mion wouldn't have even been able to approach. From the sheer volume of divine power to the finesse in wielding it, she was utterly outmatched.
Feeling a despair so profound she wanted to smack her own head for thinking she had a chance just yesterday, Mion refused to give up. She enveloped her body in divine power to the fullest and raised her rapier. 'Even so, I can't back down.'
To protect herself, she channeled her power. The crisp Mare divine power settled into her body, making it stronger and more flexible. Then, focusing her mind, Mion coated herself in a thin membrane of water—a common saint law among Mare users, Mare's Blessing.
The heat radiating from Ashytara's greatsword should be mitigated somewhat by it.
But something was off. While Mion prepared her defenses, Ashytara simply stood there silently, staring her down. If she'd seized the initiative, the duel would have ended ages ago.
'Yeah, overconfident, huh? Keep letting your guard down, Ashytara.' Mion darted forward, closing in on Ashytara in a flash. Her astonishing speed drew gasps from the crowd.
"Wow, she's fast."
Sione Solenute spoke to Professor Hainkel Hereis with a hint of surprise at Mion's unexpected velocity.
"There's always a reason for top grades. Her Mare's Blessing, her divine power control—impressive. But what I admire most is her composure, not giving up even against Ashytara's overwhelming presence."
"Even so... she can't win."
"You think?"
"Yes. Let's keep watching. Who knows what might happen."
The two fell silent, focusing on the duel.
Mion thrust her rapier at Ashytara with all the speed she could muster. The strike was so fast it was hard to follow with the eye.
But Ashytara seemed to catch it all effortlessly. She twisted her body, deflecting the thrust, and swung her flame-infused greatsword.
Mion retreated, chased by the blade. The swing's aftermath had already vaporized much of her Mare's Blessing.
"What the...?"
Mion panicked as the protective membrane thinned rapidly, but she gritted her teeth, reset her stance, and lunged again.
'Pathetic.' So thought Ashytara. Mion was talented, sure, but against someone drilled mercilessly in swordsmanship by Leonard Lavante, she was no match. Compared to the duke's onslaught that had pushed her to the brink of death, Mion's technique was sluggish as a crawling larva, fragile and weak.
Rapier arts targeting vitals could be deadly with enough speed and flexibility, but Mion hadn't reached that realm. Having her thrust—her main weapon—read and countered? That spelled defeat.
Thud!
Ashytara pivoted on her toes, slamming her greatsword upward from the ground to pressure Mion. Mion barely dodged, reacting just in time, but couldn't escape the searing heat. The tips of her elegant golden hair began to singe.
"Ngh!"
And in that instant, Mare's Blessing fully evaporated. Her defeat was sealed, but Mion didn't cry out. She twisted acrobatically to evade the oncoming greatsword. Her slender rapier couldn't clash directly with Ashytara's brute-force blade. Infusing it with divine power might prevent breaking, but Ashytara could do the same, leaving evasion as her only option.
But even that reached its limit soon. For some reason, Ashytara's sword was accelerating in pursuit.
'What? Why's it speeding up? With that monstrous greatsword? It's not just raw power. Not Celioum speed either. How?!'
Mion had no way of knowing. Ashytara's greatsword style started deceptively slow but built momentum, accelerating relentlessly. It began with a subtle spin from the toes, raising the blade. As the upward strike neared, she added weight and rotation from her blade and foot. Each spin ramped up speed, culminating in a devastating blitz. An otherworldly technique.
If the foe dodged, she gained speed through rotation. If they parried with superhuman strength, she repurposed the rebound. This absurd style was crafted by Duke Leonard Lavante, tailored to Ashytara's robust physique. He hadn't named it, so she called it the Lavante greatsword technique.
Ashytara's Lavante greatsword technique battered Mion with ever-increasing speed. Mion wailed in disbelief at the overwhelming power.
"What kind of swordsmanship is this!?"
She tried to evade, but it didn't last. Without Mare's Blessing, the trembling flames and sheer might of the Lavante technique threatened her life.
Mion was in sorry shape. Her once-vibrant golden hair was charred at the ends by Solem's flames, and her armor bore scorch marks from near-misses.
Ashytara knew it was time to end it. Tempted to smash the flat of her blade into Mion's face, she restrained herself—killing her would cause problems. Instead, she struck Mion's side with the blade's flat.
Bam!
A thunderous impact and agony sent Mion flying unconscious off the training ground.
As the crowd stared in shock and dismay, Ashytara shook the flames from her greatsword with one hand, standing tall with elegant, noble poise—the picture of grace contrasting her earlier ferocity. She awaited Enrique's verdict.
"The winner is Ashytara. Room 203 in the girls' dormitory now belongs to her. With injuries to tend, we'll handle room adjustments tomorrow. Dismissed."
Ludenberg Lavante gazed at the now-empty training ground after everyone had left. He hadn't planned to watch Ashytara and Mion's room duel, but nagging doubts during his scheming drew him here. Even now, the image burned in his mind: Ashytara savagely cornering Mion, inflicting an indelible humiliation.
He could tell. She was furious—terribly so. No mind-reading like Sione's, but he knew. Those icy blue eyes piercing through. Savage eyes that longed to rip apart their target.
If this weren't Solemnute Adem, if not for the crowd... Mion would be dead.
So why such rage? Ludenberg was growing confused. What was he to her, that she'd act this way? With Cletta Peliche before, now Mion Altis.
The chain of questions led to one simple answer.
Despite his cold dismissal, Ashytara still saw him as special. Sharpening her blade for revenge? No, that was his foolish misunderstanding. She genuinely cared for him. Even as others turned away, she still reached for his hand.
And the emotion from her was thicker, heavier than mere friendship or affection—enough to nearly kill for his sake.
'No more running away.'
Having found his answer, Ludenberg realized he had to face Ashytara. Whether it would be poison or boon, he didn't yet know.