A gust of wind swept across the arena, kicking up dust. For a moment, the world went quiet—like an old Western standoff.
Kaela stood poised, water swirling behind her like loyal sentinels. From her hand, a sword of ice formed—sleek, sharp, and deadly.
With a whisper of wind, she slid forward—ice boots gliding over the ground, movements fluid and graceful.
Taro gritted his teeth, trying to keep up.
Kaela struck fast, her blade clashing with his flaming fists. Each hit melted part of the sword—but it reformed instantly, fed by the water behind her and her massive mana reserves.
It was like fighting a whole squad alone—unrelenting, precise, suffocating.
Meanwhile, Taro struggled to find an opening. The water moved as if it had eyes, forcing him on the defensive.
And worse—he couldn't use Space Control. Too risky. Too much focus.
"Ugh, screw it," he muttered, flames bursting around him.
He walked through fire.
No—he became fire.
Speed surged through him. Kaela couldn't track his movements anymore. He weaved through the water, fists flaring, striking from every angle.
Explosions rocked the ground as his blows connected—scorching heat clashing against freezing resistance.
Then—he went for the finishing blow.
But—
The hourglass emptied.
The bell rang. Match over.
"A draw," Kobe announced.
Taro froze mid-punch, stunned. "What!"
Kobe chuckled. "Calm down, hothead. You'll get another shot at her."
Taro groaned, catching his breath. He looked at Kaela, who was on one knee, exhausted.
He walked over, smiling. "You did great," he said—but the words came out awkward, more like, "Y-you did... uh, good... or whatever."
He offered her a hand.
She glanced at it—then slapped it away and stood on her own.
Taro blinked. "O-okay then…"