CHAPTER 63: MATCHUPS

The battlefield thundered with chaos.

"Arrghhh!"

"Clinnnggg!"

Roars and the clash of steel rang through the smoky air as five hundred orcs collided head-on with a hundred SBV soldiers.

The ground trembled under their weight. Blood, dirt, and fire mixed into a haze of battle.

A soldier charged through the carnage, his sword flashing. "Die, you monsters!" he yelled, his blade meeting the crude iron club of a massive orc. Sparks flew. Both held their ground, strength locking them in a deadly stalemate.

Then, from behind the SBV lines, arrows hissed through the air.

Thwip! Thwip!They buried themselves into the orc’s back.

"Uggghhh!" The orc roared, his focus faltering. The soldier seized the opening and drove his sword into the orc’s gut.

"AAARRGHH!" The orc howled in pain but swung his club one final time, smashing it into the soldier’s head.

The human dropped to the ground with a sickening thud, his helmet dented inward, skull crushed. He twitched, half-alive, eyes rolling back.

Spears whistled through the air, striking the wounded orc from all sides. The creature finally collapsed, its weapon slipping from its grasp as blood pooled beneath him.

Then. A faint hum.

A green circle flared under the dying soldier’s body. His crushed head slowly reshaped, bones snapping back, flesh stitching together as divine light mended him.

The man gasped for air, his grin spreading wide.

"I’ll kill this disgusting thing with my own hands," he growled, his tone filled with fanatical pride. As though dying moments ago was nothing but a trivial inconvenience.

He raised his sword over the fallen orc’s chest.

And then it came.

A pulse of freezing wind burst across the battlefield like a wave.

Fwooom!

Everything in its path turned frost. The soldier, the fallen orc, and every man caught in the cone of wind froze solid mid-motion, ice crawling up their armor, locking them in place.

"Carry him back to safety," Sera’s calm voice rang out over the silence that followed.

She stepped into the open, her silver hair catching the pale morning light, her skirt brushing against her thigh-guard as the frost wind swirled around her.

Her sword, a clean C-rank blade, glimmered faintly with runic patterns.

"His blood is frozen. Use the artifacts we discussed before," she ordered without raising her voice.

"Yes, ma’am!" The orcs nearby obeyed instantly, lifting the frozen comrade with surprising care and carrying him toward the rear lines.

Sera exhaled, her breath forming mist. She knelt slightly, tapping the ice-covered soldier with her sword.

"Frost Scatter," she whispered.

The frozen bodies shimmered, then broke apart into a swirl of glittering flakes that vanished into the air.

The soldiers facing Sera stumbled back, their disciplined formation wavering. Steam rising from where frost met blood.

The confidence that burned in their eyes moments ago flickered, doubt creeping in.

"Steady! Fire!" one of them barked, but his voice cracked under the weight of fear.

A volley of arrows hissed through the air, slicing the wind as they arced toward Sera. She exhaled slowly, her breath misting in the cold air.

Then, with a smooth motion, she swung her sword horizontally through the air.

"Frost Wind," she whispered.

The air trembled. A chilling whirlwind erupted around her, a twisting storm of ice and wind that howled across the battlefield.

The arrows never reached her. Instead, they bent, caught by the unnatural current, spinning wildly before turning back toward the soldiers who had fired them.

"W-What the!" one soldier shouted before being flung aside by the gale.

The whirlwind expanded, tossing armored men like ragdolls. Their neat formation shattered instantly.

Sera’s lips curled into a faint smirk.

Above her, countless frost spears materialized out of thin air, glimmering shards of pure ice, each one sharper than steel.

They hung suspended for a moment, then shot forward with a sharp whistle.

The soldiers who had turned to flee looked back just in time to see death flying toward them.

"No! No!"

Before the spears could strike, invisible slashes cut through the air. Clean and precise.

Crack!Shhhh!

The frost spears shattered mid-flight, disintegrating into glittering snow.

Sera’s eyes widened. Her instincts screamed danger.

The next instant.

BOOM!

A shockwave pulsed across the battlefield as a figure dropped from the sky, landing between Sera and the disoriented soldiers.

The force of her landing kicked up a burst of wind. Sera had to catch her skirt to keep it from flying up.

"Little girl," the newcomer said, her tone smooth yet mocking.

She stood tall, poised.

A woman in her early thirties dressed in a flowing green martial outfit. The silk dress extended down to her ankles but split high along the sides, revealing one long, trained leg.

Her black hair was tied in a loose braid that swung over her shoulder, and her pink lips curved into an amused smile.

The woman radiated confidence, her beauty both disarming and dangerous. Every movement she made carried precision born of years of martial discipline.

In her hand, she held a folded green fan.

Sera’s eyes narrowed. A hidden weapon.

"Are you the commander who looks human?" the woman asked casually, tilting her head.

"What was your name again... Lydia?"

Her voice was calm, but the killing intent beneath it was sharp as a blade.

Sera didn’t flinch. She knew this woman was her and Lydia’s assigned matchup. One of Merin’s elites.

She forced her voice steady. "Yes," she said, pretending to be Lydia.

The woman’s pink lips curved upward. "Hmm~ She’s supposed to have black hair," she murmured, eyeing Sera’s silvery strands.

"But whatever, you are the only human enemy here and you match the description in other areas well enough." She said looking at Sera’s breasts.

With a practiced grace, the woman widened her stance. one leg sliding forward, one arm extended, fan raised near her face.

Her aura shimmered faintly blue, stirring the air around her into gentle, twisting currents.

Name: Fiona

Age: 31

Threat Rank: 4

Attribute: Wind

Class: Martial Artist (Intermediate Aura User)

Matchup: Lydia and Sera.

************

"Squelch..."

A wet, ugly sound echoed as a soldier’s head burst under the weight of a massive wooden trunk erupting from the ground.

Blood splattered across the dirt in red streaks. The tree’s bark twisted unnaturally, pulsing like living flesh. Its thick, vein-like roots writhed and whipped around, smacking SBV soldiers aside as if they were nothing but insects.

At the top of the monstrous trunk stood Quinn, her brown aura flaring around her like rippling heat.

Her sharp eyes scanned the battlefield below, her lips curling into a confident smirk.

An archer in the distance shouted, "Fire!"

A rain of arrows whistled down toward her, slicing through the wind. Twick, twick, twick!The arrows struck her body... and fell harmlessly to the ground, bouncing off the brown aura sparks coating her skin.

"Are you guys even trying?" she said, tilting her head, amused.

Between her fingers, a small, thin wooden needle formed, sharp enough to pierce steel. With a casual flick of her thumb, she released it.

The needle zipped through the air so fast that it vanished from sight.

A second later, Thunk! An archer far across the valley clutched his throat, blood spurting between his fingers as he fell.

Quinn’s smirk deepened, but her amusement vanished the next moment.

Her instincts screamed.

A sharp tremor passed through her body, a cold shiver of danger. Without a thought, she leaped backward, just in time to see her massive tree trunk sliced clean in half.

Shhhk!Shhhk!

The halves fell, only to be cut again and again into smaller chunks before they hit the ground, each piece perfectly severed.

Quinn landed lightly on another trunk that erupted from the earth beneath her. Her gaze swept the area below.

There, standing calmly amid the shattered debris, was an old man, perhaps in his sixties.

His hair was white, short, and neatly combed, his beard trimmed close. He wore a light blue cloak, the fabric marked with faint wave-like patterns.

In his hand, he held a long, slender sword, its blade so polished it reflected the sky.

He looked up at her with gentle eyes and smiled politely.

"Good day, miss," he said, sheathing his sword in one smooth motion before placing a hand to his chest and giving a graceful bow.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, her expression dripping with disgust.

"Quite arrogant of you to sheathe your sword before your enemy, don’t you think?"

The old man chuckled softly. "My apologies if I gave the wrong impression," he replied, his tone almost fatherly. "I merely wished to draw your attention. It would have been rude to interrupt your... fun, if not for performing an equally delightful display."

Quinn’s expression hardened as she descended from her tree trunk, the wood beneath her feet groaning and lowering her gently to the ground. Her brown aura pulsed, the scent of sap and soil filling the air around her.

"Good day to you too, Oken," she said coldly.

The man’s smile widened slightly, the polite glint in his eyes replaced by something sharper.

"Ah, that saves us the trouble of introductions, then... Miss Quinn."

He slipped off one of his gloves, a white silk one, and let it fall to the ground between them.

"I would like to formally request a duel," he said, bowing once more, though the courteous tone in his voice now carried an undertone of bloodlust.

Quinn’s boot came down hard, thud, crushing the glove into the dirt.

"Challenge accepted."

At her stomp, the tree beside her shuddered, a thick wooden club erupted from its trunk, hovering beside her like a living weapon.

Oken straightened, his smile twisting into something far more sinister.

The air around him began to ripple, faint drops of water appearing in the air, and then hissss.. a dark crimson aura burst out from his body, flaring like smoke.

"Thank you for the generosity, Miss Quinn," he said, his voice suddenly deep, almost demonic.

The once-gentle old man now looked like a beast ready to devour.

Name: Oken

Age: 60

Threat Rank: 3

Attribute: Water

Class: Swordsman (Intermediate Aura)

Matchup: Quinn