Tensions Rising

The crowd's cheers began to fade as I stepped down from the arena, my limbs still buzzing from the remnants of magic I’d wielded. Magnus, with his silver-white hair flowing like threads of moonlight, gave me a brief glance as he retreated to his side of the field.

His piercing blue eyes, sharp and unyielding, betrayed neither frustration nor anger—only a calm acknowledgment of our draw. His elegant robes, adorned with intricate silver details, swayed as he turned, each movement exuding poise and restraint.

Despite his composure, I couldn't shake the image of his raw power—the storm bending to his will, the lightning that crackled around him as if alive. For all his mastery, there was something almost otherworldly about him, a presence that demanded both respect and caution.

"That was something," Tabitha said, her voice breaking my train of thought. She approached me with a wide grin, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “I knew you had it in you!”

Dion followed close behind, arms crossed but a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Not bad, princess. Though next time, maybe try not to melt the whole arena.”

I chuckled softly, grateful for their presence. Tabitha's cheerful energy and Dion's steady confidence helped ease the tension that still gripped my chest. "I’ll keep that in mind," I replied, though the exhaustion in my voice was clear.

Before I could say more, Hecate's voice rang out again, her tone as commanding as ever. “The next match will commence shortly. Contestants, step forward when called.”

I turned my gaze back to the arena as the marble floor shifted, repairing itself with a shimmer of magic. The jagged cliffs and scorched earth from my battle dissolved into smooth stone, erasing any trace of what had transpired. Hecate stood at the center, her black gown shimmering like starlight, her presence as overwhelming as ever.

Hecate’s voice sliced through the tension, sharp and commanding. "Mira versus Amon!" she called out.

“Oh, that sh*t.” I whispered to myself.

He slapped me and took Tabitha as a hostage before. I turned my attention to the arena, watching as Amon stepped forward, his fiery presence making the air shimmer with heat. His gaze was locked on the opponent before him—Mira.

“Begin!” Hecate’s voice echoed, signaling the start.

Amon didn’t hesitate. Flames erupted from his hands in an instant, racing toward Mira in a relentless wave. The heat rolled across the battlefield, distorting the air and forcing even the spectators to lean back.

Mira reacted just as quickly. She spun gracefully, summoning a vortex of water that surged forward to meet the flames. The collision hissed violently, steam rising in thick clouds as fire and water clashed. For a moment, the arena was engulfed in mist, obscuring both combatants.

But Amon wasn’t waiting for the mist to clear. A roar of flames tore through the fog, aimed directly at Mira. This time, the fire wasn’t a simple attack—it twisted and turned, almost alive, seeking her out like a predator.

Mira countered with a sweep of her hand, creating a shield of water that encased her like a sphere. The fire licked at the barrier but failed to penetrate. With a sharp gesture, she sent the water surging outward, extinguishing the flames and forcing Amon back.

The crowd murmured in appreciation, but I wasn’t reassured. Amon wasn’t just powerful; he was cruel. This wasn’t going to be a fair fight—not with him.

“Is that all?” Amon’s voice carried across the arena, taunting. “Come on, Mira. Show me the strength that got you this far.”

Mira didn’t respond. She raised her hands, the water at her feet coiling upward like serpents, ready to strike. Amon’s grin widened, and he slammed his fists into the ground, sending pillars of fire erupting around him.

What followed was a brutal exchange. Mira’s water danced around her, fluid and adaptive, striking out at Amon whenever he left an opening. But Amon’s fire was relentless, forcing Mira to stay on the defensive more often than not. Every move he made seemed designed to push her to her limits, to test just how much she could endure.

And then he shifted tactics.

Amon slammed his hands together, creating an explosion of fire that engulfed the entire arena. Mira managed to shield herself again, but as the flames cleared, Amon was already behind her. He grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron, and flames began to lick at her skin.

I tensed, my fists clenching. This wasn’t a battle anymore. This was torture.

“You’re strong,” Amon said, his tone mocking, “but strength isn’t enough.”

Mira gasped, struggling to free herself as the fire crept closer. But even as I watched, I saw something shift in her expression. Her fear faded, replaced by something colder—something resolute.

With a sudden burst of magic, water erupted from her entire body, forcing Amon to release her. She stumbled back but didn’t falter. Instead, she raised her hand, and a torrent of water surged toward Amon, striking him with enough force to knock him to the ground.

The audience erupted into cheers, but Amon merely laughed, his flames reigniting as he stood. “Not bad,” he admitted, wiping blood from his lip. “But not good enough.”

Before he could attack again, Hecate’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough,” she commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Amon hesitated, his flames flickering uncertainly before dying out. Mira stood across from him, her chest heaving with exertion but her gaze steady.

“You’ve made your point,” Hecate said, her eyes narrowing at Amon. “The battle is yours, but remember—this is not a stage for your cruelty.”

Amon smirked but didn’t argue. He turned and walked away, his victory declared but his cruelty leaving a bitter taste in the air.

As Mira returned to the sidelines, I caught her eye. She nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of her resilience. My chest tightened with a mix of admiration and anger. She didn’t deserve that treatment—but she had stood her ground and endured.

Just as I started to shift my focus, I caught a glimpse of Amon, striding past me with his usual cocky swagger. His fiery presence still lingered like heat from a flame.

“You noble,” he whispered just loud enough for me to hear, his words laced with malice. “I’ll get you next time.”

The arrogance in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. His eyes met mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he already knew he had me in his sights.

And as I watched Amon’s retreating figure, I knew one thing for certain: if he thought he could get away with that in the next round, he was sorely mistaken.

***

As I stood there, my thoughts consumed by Amon and how I would defeat him, I barely noticed the atmosphere shifting around me. The crowd's murmurs grew louder, their attention clearly drawn to the ongoing battle. Only when the cheers intensified did I realize that the last match had begun—and ended—without my full awareness.

I glanced at the arena, where Elara stood triumphantly, a look of quiet confidence on her face. Her long, red hair cascaded around her shoulders, and the light caught the gleam of her robe. The powerful aura she exuded was undeniable, her every movement radiating strength and composure.

She possessed one of the rarest magic affinity, Celestial. Her magic had summoned ethereal beings, their glowing forms flickering like distant stars. With a swift and powerful command, she had dispatched her opponent, securing her victory effortlessly.

I hadn't seen it unfold, but I could tell from the way the crowd erupted that it had been decisive.

As I absorbed the moment, I couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration for Elara's control over her magic and frustration over my own predicament. The battle with Amon was coming, and I had to be ready. But for now, I would have to refocus and prepare for what lay ahead.