CHAPTER 138: NOVA

The instant Sylva fitted the brown disk onto her bow, the air shifted.

Buzzz...

A low vibration rippled outward, like a drop of water disturbing a still lake. Razeal, who had been dodginy Arrows effortlessly through the air, slowed his movements as the sensation reached him. Something big dangerous was happening.

The disk pulsed once, then again, and suddenly the space around Sylva twisted.

Crack... crackle...

From the center of the disk, thick wooden barks and long, twisting vines burst forth as though an entire forest had been hidden inside that single object. Saplings and roots sprouted, growing with unnatural speed, wrapping and winding around Sylva’s figure in an ever-expanding spiral. The disk was no longer just an artifact.. it was a vortex, pulling from some impossible storage, releasing an endless tide of ancient wood.

Razeal hovered midair, his shadow wings beating lightly as he watched. For a rare moment, his calm gaze wavered. The pink arrows that had been screaming toward him a heartbeat ago were gone, dispersed into nothing as Sylva redirected all her focus. His body stilled. He wasn’t dodging now. Watching now.

The spectacle was overwhelming.

Crackle. Crack. Crackle.

The sound of splitting bark thundered through the arena, echoing against the colosseum walls. The vines thickened into towering trunks, bending and groaning as if alive.

Down below, the spectators could hardly believe their eyes.

Nancy leaned forward, her lips parting slightly as her voice slipped out in a breathless whisper. "I... I’m so jealous. Do you see that? I wish I had that amount of mana..." Her brows twitched upward, her envy raw and unmasked.

She could feel it. The mana was so dense it pressed against her skin, dancing in the air, brushing her cheeks like waves of invisible wind. It was suffocating yet intoxicating. All around the capital, mana rippled, as though Sylva had become its center of gravity.

Arabella only crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing slightly as she gazed upward with a lazy, knowing smile. "Not hers," she commented softly, her voice carrying an edge of amusement.

Nancy barely heard her, still staring skyward. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "Just look at that wood... the quality. It’s almost like Platinumwood from the ancient forests. Even if I threw everything I had at it, I doubt I could leave a scratch."

Her awe was edged with something else.. fear and Fury at herself as for feeling weak just looking at that.

Arabella chuckled, unbothered. "She wants protection. That’s why shes doing this. Her wind attacks are strong and maybe she wanna make it more stronger, yes, but her body is too fragile to withstand the backlash. Faerelith bloodlines always carry that curse. Immense power in mana and elements... but their bodies are like porcelain. So, she shields herself with wood. Practical."

Nancy turned her head, scowling slightly at her mother’s casual tone, but Arabella wasn’t finished. She tilted her chin, her voice laced with a mocking sort of curiosity. "If their bodies were like Dragonwevrs... unbreakable, indestructible... I can’t imagine how terrifying they’d be. But no one is built perfect, are they?"

Her lips curled into a smile, enjoying the chaos far more than she should.

Back in the air, Razeal hovered silently, observing as the structure around Sylva grew.

Her bow trembled once, then began to shift.

The vines fused together, thickening, stretching upward as though trying to scrape the heavens. The disks embedded within pulsed with light, swelling, growing larger and larger until their size became ridiculous. The bow itself expanded alongside them, twisting and reforging into something monstrous.

The sky darkened.

Even Razeal’s lips twitched slightly as he drifted backward, his body instinctively moving hundred of meters away to keep the growing structure in his vision.

And then he saw it.

Where Sylva had once floated gracefully, now stood a giant.

The wooden titan almost finished forming with a thunderous crack that shook the entire colosseum.

A colossal humanoid figure of wood towered above, its body made of entwined trunks and ancient bark, shaped into the form of a woman. In its hand, it held a bow enormous, absurd, its size rivaling entire buildings. From its back stretched radiant wings of pink energy, their span so vast they blotted out the horizon behind her.

The sheer size made no sense.

Razeal craned his neck upward, his gaze climbing higher and higher, his mind struggling to process the scale.

"This thing..." he muttered under his breath. "It’s two... no, three hundred times bigger than Glaciermight."

The name of the colossal beast he had once faced slipped from his lips unconsciously, a point of comparison for something that dwarfed even his past horrors.

Down below, the spectators went silent. The noise of the arena died completely as the shadow of the titan fell over them. The colosseum, once bright and filled with excitement, was now drowned in darkness.

A collective sound spread through the stands.

Gulp.

Hundreds, thousands of throats swallowed at once as the sheer scale of Sylva’s manifestation bore down on them. For a moment, it felt as though the giant’s presence alone might crush them.

From the ground, the spectators could now see every detail of the colossal wooden figure towering above them. The polished surface gleamed under the light, each curve of its immense legs and feet carved with unnerving precision, as though it were not summoned but sculpted by master artisans of the divine. Even its wooden "dress" carried the likeness of flowing fabric, the grain of the bark forming elegant patterns across the giant woman’s form.

The pink wings unfurled behind its back, glowing with radiant energy, their size so vast they seemed capable of blotting out the horizon. The crowd below could only gape, their necks straining as they tilted their heads higher and higher, the shadow of the statue swallowing the entire colosseum.

And inside within the chest of the statue.. Sylva stood at its heart.

Her hands were clasped together tightly, her eyes closed in concentration. Around her, streams of vibrant green aura pulsed outward in waves, each ripple so dense with mana that the very air quivered. Her long sky-green hair floated freely behind her, weightless, pulled upward by the violent tide of energy.

Within the hollow chamber where she stood, small plants began to bloom spontaneously. Tiny saplings sprouted from cracks in the wood, their leaves glowing faintly as if drinking directly from the overwhelming well of mana surrounding her.

Her expression was calm, but the tension in her clasped fingers betrayed the effort it took to maintain control. For two long seconds, she poured everything into shaping the form. The unfinished head of the giant creaked and shuddered before finally snapping into place with a booming crack.

Sylva’s eyes opened. A green sapphire glow spilled from them, lighting the chamber with an ethereal brilliance.

And then, with a smirk tugging at her lips, she spoke softly:

"The Druid Plateau Colossus, the Verdant Sentinel."

The name itself carried weight, vibrating through the wood like a declaration.

But suddenly

Inside her mind, however, came another voice, sharp and chiding.

[Aren’t you just overreacting now?]

[There was no need to summon a construct of this level. These are weapons reserved for war, Gurlll. Actual wars. Do you even realize where you are? If you fall if this thing collapses you’ll bring ruin to tens of thousands of innocents. You could destroy the part of empire’s capital with one mistake.]

Sylva blinked, feigning innocence. "Ehhh? What do you mean, overreacting? I was only protecting myself! Didn’t you see? That boy he attacked me with some weird method from another angle. What if I had missed? My body isn’t strong, my physical abilities are just... average. I could’ve been seriously injured. I’m just being safe."

The voice snapped back, dripping with irritation.

[Safe? SAFE?! You call THIS safe? You’ve conjured a war-class colossus in the middle of a city! You could have just made a thin dome of wood or earth around yourself and been fine. Even those attacks of yours can’t even scratch that! This is absurd.]

Sylva puffed her cheeks and whistled, her tone dismissive. "Yes, yes, I was going to make a dome, but... well... my hand slipped. Yes, that’s it. My hand slipped." She nodded rapidly as if convincing herself of the excuse. "So it just... got a little bigger than intended."

The voice trembled with anger. [You... Youuuu!]

Another voice chimed in suddenly, full of frustration.

[Seeeeee? What did I tell you all? I said not to spoil her, but no one listened. And now look! Look what she’s doing!]

A different voice answered, dismissive and calm.

[It’s not a big deal. It’s just a statue. Why are you whining like a child?]

The argument spiraled, voices overlapping, bickering with one another.

Sylva tilted her head, pretending she wasn’t listening at all. She hummed softly, turning her gaze aside, her smirk returning as though she were innocent of any wrongdoing.

But outside the statue, Razeal was not wasting time.

"Oh, do you really think anyone cares about this nonsense?" he muttered under his breath. His voice was calm, but his eyes had sharpened.

In the next instant, his wings flared open. With a sudden snap, his body blurred into motion a streak of shadow hurtling straight toward the statue’s chest. He had already pinpointed her presence inside.

His hand moved with practiced ease, drawing forth his blade. A weapon forged entirely of shadow took shape, the black saber radiating a faint, rippling darkness.

"Tectonic.. Two Point Oh." His whisper was swallowed by the wind as he funneled energy into the strike.

BOOOOOOM!

The impact thundered as his blade crashed against the polished wood of the giant. The shockwave rippled outward, kicking up dust, rattling the walls, and forcing spectators to shield their eyes just from shockwave of airflow.

But Razeal froze.

His sword... hadn’t left so much as a scratch.

He pulled back slightly, staring at the unblemished surface, his lips parting in disbelief. "What the...? Just how hard is this thing?"

He didn’t have the luxury to finish the thought.

A pulse of danger screamed in his instincts. Without hesitation, he jerked his blade back, twisting his body into a defensive stance. His wings snapped to shield his sides.

BOOOOOOM!

The retaliatory strike slammed into him with monstrous force. A shockwave ripped through the air, flattening the arena floor beneath. Dust exploded in every direction as Razeal’s body was sent crashing downward.

CRAAAASH!

The ground erupted as he smashed into it, leaving a crater at the center of the colosseum floor. Choking dust and broken stone billowed upward in a thick cloud, swallowing his figure.

The crowd gasped, the thunder of his impact reverberating through their bones.

Above

The colossal statue shifted.

The Verdant Sentinel, towering like a deity, pulled its massive wooden arm back, joints creaking as if mountains themselves were moving. Its shadow fell across the entire colosseum, making the audience shrink in their seats.

From within the chest, Sylva’s laughter echoed, amplified by the hollow chamber around her.

"Hahaha! Did you really think that just because something is big, it would be slow?" she sneered, her green eyes glimmering with amusement as she gazed down at the crater where Razeal’s body had struck.

Her tone was playful, but her words carried the confidence of a predator. Inside the Colossus, she wasn’t limited by her own fragile body. She didn’t have to restrain herself anymore. The material she was wielding was ancient, dense, reinforced by mana far beyond what ordinary wood could bear. The speed, the strength, the destructive force it was all magnified to terrifying extremes.

"He has no chance," Sylva whispered, almost to herself, her lips curling into a smirk. "And It’ll be painful as hell Right?. Can he even still stand?" She doesn’t care to hold back anymore. She doesn’t know!! Razeal himself gave her the confidence. Maybe he really won’t die, even if she gets rough. Until now, he hasn’t gone down, even when she tried to hurt him. So now, most likely, even if she pushes harder, he’ll still find a way out of it.

Below, dust and rubble spiraled from the point of impact where Razeal’s body had crashed into the arena floor. The crowd’s murmur grew louder, a ripple of uncertainty spreading across the seats. Some stood, craning their necks, desperate to see if he would rise.

Among them was Selena.

The young holy Saintess breath caught the moment she sensed Razeal slam into the ground. Her body stiffened, and before she realized it, she was already half-risen from her seat. Her fingers twitched, glowing faintly as if she was about to summon miracle magic. Her eyes wide, frantic searched the arena floor through the haze of smoke.

Her chest clenched painfully. She wanted to run to him.

But before she could move further, a large hand pressed firmly on her shoulder, forcing her back into her seat.

"Sit down, daughter."

The voice of her father was calm, unyielding. She froze, torn between defiance and obedience. Her lips trembled, her heart screamed at her to go, to do something but his grip anchored her. Slowly, reluctantly, she sat back down, her gaze never leaving the battlefield.

Inside the Virelan family’s private chamber, another storm brewed.

Nova paced restlessly, her long coat brushing against her legs as she circled the room like a predator in a cage. Her normally expressionless face was cracked now with something sharper a tension that reached even her cold purple eyes.

The booming crash from outside made her pause. She turned her head toward the window, the muffled sound of stone shattering echoing faintly through the walls. Her throat tightened.

"Alright that’s it," she whispered, her voice like ice. "Am killing that bitch."

Her tone was flat, almost casual, but the chill in it was lethal.

For a brief moment, her stoic facade faltered. She looked toward the arena, though the thick clouds of dust obscured everything. She couldn’t see him, not clearly. But she didn’t need to. She could feel it the weight of that hit, the violent impact that would have rattled every bone in his body.

Her fingers twitching to do something .

She remembered the cuts he had taken earlier. To anyone else, they had seemed minor mere scratches. But she knew better. His body felt pain forty thousand times more intensely than normal.

A small scratch could be enough to make someone take their own life, just to escape the agony. And those cuts... they were cruel. Inhumane.

Yet Razeal hadn’t flinched. Not even a twitch of pain crossed his face. As if he couldn’t feel it at all.

But she wasn’t stupid. Her analysis had been thorough. There was no spell dulling his pain, no trick hiding his nerves. His nervous system was fully active. So his body was feeling every single strike. He was suffering.

She was sure of that.

So why didn’t he show it?

And the hit just now... it hadn’t been light. It must have shaken his bones, rattled through his organs, tearing through muscles and sinew. That kind of pain would have been unimaginable.

She bit her nails without realizing it, the sharp taste of iron filling her mouth. Her cold eyes gave nothing away, but inside, her stomach churned. Remembering every strike he took was like a blade cutting into her.

Yeah, she was shocked at his performance. She was impressed by his skills and combat experience, by the speed of his movement, by the precision of his perception. She was even... curious about the strange black element he wielded. It made her curious intrigued, even. Though she would never admit it, she felt a strange excitement, even butterflies in her stomach.

But none of that mattered as much as the suffering he endured. That, above all, consumed her thoughts. though her face remained cold, expressionless. To anyone else, she looked unaffected.

At last, she turned toward the window, her hand drifted unconsciously to her waist, fingers curling around the hilt of her sword. The cool leather pressed against her palm as her decision solidified.

"Once again, My Lady," a calm, firm voice interrupted, "the Matriarch ordered that no one shall interfere in this match. Forgive my rudeness, but you cannot."

Nova froze mid-step.

A tall woman with flowing dark-purple hair appeared behind her, square glasses glinting under the faint candlelight. She carried herself with the poised dignity of a scholar, yet her presence pressed into the chamber like a silent wall. Her hands were clasped neatly behind her back, her tone respectful but unyielding.

"This is the third time you’ve attempted to intervene Marcella."

Nova slowly turned her head, her expression unchanged, but her lips curved upward in a distorted smile that nearly cracked her cold mask. Her purple eyes glowed faintly as they locked onto Marcella’s calm gaze.

Marcella adjusted her glasses with deliberate care, her own voice steady. "Apologies, My Lady, but orders are orders. I cannot allow you to disobey. And I believe... you should let him..."

"Young master," Nova corrected coldly, her voice like a blade’s edge.

Marcella paused, then inclined her head. "...Yes. Young Master. Please, allow young master to finish. I believe Young Master would be deeply dissatisfied if you interfered. And if you truly wish to build a connection with Young Master, to start on the right foot, I would not recommend cutting this match short. It would be a poor beginning for a bond you clearly desire."

Her words were professional, smooth, yet piercing. She knew precisely which string to pull.

Nova’s eyes bore into her. Many seconds passed. Silence stretched. Finally, her hand slid from the hilt of her sword, the faint rasp of steel sliding back into its sheath whispering in the chamber.

"Alright," Nova murmured, her tone still icy. "But the next time you dare to stop me... I will kill you."

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