CHAPTER 55: HARD FOUGHT VICTORY!

The cold mist thickened around the arena. The audience had stopped chanting, stopped screaming. Even breathing seemed disrespectful now.

They all felt the shift in pressure. That calm before the storm. Their bodies knew what their minds had yet to understand: this was it. This was the end.

Ren’s body trembled from fatigue, not fear. His kusarigama chain bore fresh dents. His shoulder ached from a frost blade graze. His lungs burned from the freezing air, his stamina scraped raw.

Mirabella stood tall, but her legs locked in a stance too perfect to be casual. Her breaths came steady, yet her fingers trembled against her frost blade.

The silver gleam of her chitin armor had dulled. Even the Ice Queen was at her limit.

But they both stepped forward. Together.

Rumble!

They didn’t move immediately. They gathered energy instead. From the Loom, from the air, from within their very souls.

Ren planted one foot forward. The air around him began to distort with small, violet ripples like an invisible hurricane collapsing inward.

His hair fluttered from the self-made storm. His left eye shimmered with dancing momentum lines as he gathered all the Loom threads he could sense.

But that wasn’t all. Today he wasn’t just a kinetic fighter. Today, he had unlocked something new. Something dangerous.

Ren took a deep breath and began to weave. The threads shimmered, but not the usual sharp silver of kinetic weaves. These threads were faint, barely visible even in the Loom.

They buzzed against reality, slithered like thoughts, bent like emotions.

The Mind Path.

Ren had chosen this affinity after a lot of deliberation. Now, for the first time, he was casting its first weave: Mind Blast!

The weave was intricate, complex. It required every inch of his focus because it was intimate, precise, unforgiving. This wasn’t a hammer but a scalpel, aimed not at flesh but at the mind.

He gritted his teeth. "Just one good shot..."

Then the ground beneath Mirabella lit up. A formation bloomed, bright and intricate and layered. Unlike anything the crowd had seen before.

Rumble!

The world erupted in chaos.

"THAT’S—!"

"The Second Layer?!"

"NO WAY! SHE’S WEAVING FROM THE SECOND LAYER OF THE LOOM?!"

Even Ren’s weaving breath faltered. His heart sank like a falling stone. The formation beneath her wasn’t just shocking; it was crazy.

Only those who had peered beyond the veil of the first layer of the Loom, who had touched its second layer, could summon such power.

Mirabella was weaving from it now. Her next attack wouldn’t just be strong. It would be transcendent!

"Damn," Ren whispered, a small laugh escaping his lips. "Guess I lost, huh?"

But his weave didn’t stop. His eye twitched, his breath grew sharper. Pain lanced behind his temple like needles, but still he completed the final link.

"I’m not done yet."

Mind Blast was born. A colorless, forceless arrow. No flash, no wind, no flame. Just presence. It hummed softly.

Mirabella’s eyes widened as she felt the pulse of danger against her very being. But it was too late. She had already finished her weave too.

From above her head, a massive icicle formed in the sky. But this wasn’t ordinary ice. It spun and vibrated, runes from the second layer etched into its surface.

They pulsed with cold so absolute that even light bent around it. Even the frost below retreated from its touch.

It was an executioner’s blade, shaped as ice.

They moved together.

Mirabella roared and pointed. The Heavenfreezing Icicle launched downward like divine punishment.

Bang!

Ren pointed one trembling finger at her heart. The Mind Blast struck her skull like an invisible arrow.

Silence. Time seemed to freeze.

The ice spell flew with unrelenting force. The mind spell landed like a whisper against the soul.

Then BANG!

The icicle struck Ren. His defense shattered. His body flew back, crashing through frost and stone, smashing into the far wall of the arena.

At the same time, Mirabella jerked. Her eyes rolled back. Blood dripped from her nose. She took one shaky step forward, then another, then dropped to one knee.

Then splat. She coughed blood.

The crowd gasped as chaos erupted again. But no one could see the victor. The mist still lingered, thick and cold, concealing both figures in its embrace.

All they had heard was the crash, the cough, the silence. But neither figure had spoken. Neither had risen.

So the crowd waited. Seconds ticked by. Each heartbeat was an eternity. The screams turned into whispers, then hushes, then breathless stillness.

No one dared blink.

Then the mist began to part. Slowly, softly, like curtains unveiling the final act of a legendary play.

Through it, the answer would be revealed.

The mist finally thinned.

What had been a battlefield moments ago was now a canvas of frost and silence, painted by two young prodigies who had poured everything into a single clash.

The first figure to emerge from the mist was Mirabella. Her steps were shaky, her shoulders slumped. Blood still ran from her nose, her chitin armor cracked in multiple places.

Her breath came in ragged, uneven bursts. But her gaze burned with quiet triumph.

She had won.

The crowd didn’t erupt right away. They simply gasped. Because the next moment, Ren’s body came into view, partially buried in broken frost at the arena’s edge.

His chest rose and fell slowly. His kusarigama lay beside his hand, its blade cracked and chain covered in frost.

He was conscious. Barely. But he didn’t rise because he knew.

"Tch." He winced, letting out a dry chuckle that turned into a cough. "Guess that really was the second layer..."

Mirabella stepped forward, ignoring the chanting crowd now rising like a wave behind her.

"I thought I had you," Ren muttered, eyes still closed. "Even weaved a Mind attack for the first time... what a waste."

A shadow fell over him. He opened his eyes to find Mirabella standing over him, bloodied, victorious, and strangely solemn.

"You didn’t waste it," she said softly.

He blinked.

"You forced me to use everything," she continued. "Not just my runes or the second layer. But my entire being. My reflexes, my instincts, my will."

She crouched beside him, one hand gripping her side, wincing from pain.

"I’ve never gone that far before. Not even in my final trials back home."

Ren stared at her. The corners of his lips twitched.

"You’re saying I should be proud?"

"I’m saying you earned my respect."

She meant it. Her voice was steady, but her eyes betrayed something deeper. Something complicated.

That trace of disbelief, that flicker of awe. That quiet, dangerous tremble in her heart that made her breath quicken.

He reminded her so much of her father. Not in power or presence. But in how he handled loss.

Ren slowly sat up, ignoring the ache in his spine. He looked up at her with calm, intelligent eyes. Calm despite the blood on his lips, despite the pain coursing through every nerve.

He gave a half-smile.

"Guess this means I’m joining your guild, huh?"

Mirabella nodded, but her heart skipped again at how easily he accepted it. No bitterness. No begging. Just poise.

"You’ll be a most valuable addition," she said, standing fully again.

Ren stood next, swaying for a moment but catching himself.

"Damn right I will," he said, voice low but confident.

Even if he lost, he was proud of how far he’d come. No rich family, no special mentor, no secret weapons handed to him. And yet he came this far!

He turned toward the arena’s exit, hair fluttering gently.

"I’ll catch up soon, Ice Queen."

And with that, he walked away. The crowd parted for him like waves before a storm. Some shouted, some blushed, others clapped.

But Ren didn’t hear any of it. His fists were clenched tight. Not from shame, but from anger and resolve.

’Next time, I win.’

But for now, he had lost. And he had taken that loss like a king.