Wrath's Virtue

Clang! Clang!

The sharp ring of steel on steel was the only constant sound in a maelstrom of motion.

Two figures, clashed in the center of the arena.

Lyra's eyes had narrowed to vertical slits, the mark of her Wild Instinct running rampant. Her movements were a blur of savage grace as she relentlessly pressed her attack. With every swing of her twin short swords, a vicious arc of flame lashed out.

Aurelion, his stance low to the ground, met the onslaught. His spear was a crackling extension of his will, deflecting blade and fire alike, but he was being driven back.

With each parry, sparks erupted, but the waves of heat and the sheer force of her assault forced him to cede ground, one step at a time.

The scorching air rippled around them as Lyra's fire began to lick across the stone floor of the arena.

"Stop running away!" Lyra roared, her frustration fueling the fire in her veins. She broke her advance and leaped, coiling her body in mid air.

A violent burst of flame erupted from her swords, not as an attack, but as a propulsion jet. The sudden acceleration turned her into a fiery comet, and she brought both blades down on Aurelion with a deafening shriek of fire.

BOOM!

A dome of pure flame exploded in the center of the arena.

For a moment, nothing was visible within the inferno. Then, a figure was blasted out from the side, tumbling across the stone before skidding to a halt.

It was Aurelion. He was on one knee, his clothes singed and smoking, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He was sweating, panting, and for the first time, he looked genuinely pressed.

The flames on the stone floor receded, revealing Lyra standing in the center of the blackened circle.

She too was breathing heavily, the flickering flames on her blades a pale imitation of their previous intensity. She glanced down at her swords, then her gaze locked back onto Aurelion.

"This will be my last move," she whispered to herself while her resolve hardening.

Aurelion pushed himself up, leaning on the shaft of his spear for support. He took a moment to regulate his breathing, his one good eye never leaving the fox girl.

In the stands, Emil turned to Merric, his voice a mixture of awe and panic. "The elf... is going to lose, Merric."

Merric said nothing, his brow furrowed as he watched the apparently exhausted Aurelion.

"Pray he doesn't," he finally gritted out. "And keep watching."

Whispers rippled through the crowd, and a small contingent of Frozen-Axe students began to chant. "Go, Lyra! Burn that elf!"

Fueled by their cheers, Lyra began to walk towards Aurelion. Her walk became a jog, then a full blown sprint.

But as she closed the final few meters between them, she didn't attack. She veered to the side, beginning to circle him at incredible speed.

Aurelion remained still, he follow the fox girl with his eye.

As Lyra ran, she began to release streams of fire from her swords, not at Aurelion, but behind her, leaving a shimmering wall of heat in her wake.

The flames began to swirl with her momentum, a vortex of fire taking shape around the lone elf. The air inside the growing ring grew thick and heavy.

Aurelion simply waited. Lyra poured more energy into the technique, the wall of fire rising higher and higher, a spiraling cage that became a roaring dome of flame, completely sealing him inside.

Finally, the flames from her swords died out. She stopped running, panting from the exertion as she stared at the fiery prison she had created.

Lyra dropped her right sword with a clatter, raising her now free palm and aiming it towards the shimmering dome.

"I'm not sure if this is enough to beat you," she said, her voice carrying a note of strained triumph,

"but I'm sure of one thing... it will wipe that smile off your face."

Then, her palm clenched into a tight fist.

"Flame dome."

The fatigued expression vanished from Aurelion's face as he stood calmly within the roaring dome of fire.

He watched the incandescent walls swirl around him, an almost academic curiosity in his single eye.

"It seems this naughty girl really does want to roast me," he muttered to himself, observing the vortex of flames begin its slow, inexorable constriction.

"An impressive technique, one could say," he analyzed internally.

"but why waste time with such a thing? She can only use this on opponents who are slow, or those, like me, who choose not to move."

He closed his eye, and the fiery chaos around him shifted into the silent, ordered expanse of Void Focusing.

He could see it clearly now. The swirling tornado of orange energy, and a few meters away, the thread of power extending from Lyra's own hand, feeding her creation.

"An inefficient technique," his assessment continued.

"She must have decided to sacrifice the last of her energy for this. A desperate gambit."

He brought his palms together in front of his chest. A sharp hissing sound cut through the roar of the flames, and a thick cloud of steam began to billow from between his hands, rapidly filling the interior of the fire dome.

As the steam was superheated by the surrounding inferno, its molecules agitated, and its pressure began to build, fighting back against the contracting cage of fire.

A war of opposing forces had begun within the dome.

Lyra's flame trying to crush inwards, Aurelion's steam pushing outwards.

Outside, Lyra's exhaustion was becoming more apparent. A sheen of sweat covered her brow, and she tightened her fist, pouring more of her dwindling energy into the trap.

"Why aren't the flames closing in?" she grunted, her teeth gritted. "What is he doing?"

The spectators watched in confusion too. The entire dome of fire began to tremble, a visible shimmer running through it as the two forces reached an equilibrium. The contraction had stopped.

Inside, Aurelion's mind was clear.

"Let's finish this," he thought. "I need to breathe."

The Seal on his palms flared with light. The intensity of the water and sparks he was generating between his hands surged, unleashing a massive, dense plume of steam.

The flames were pushed back. The dome visibly expanded. Lyra, feeling the immense counter pressure, threw her second sword aside and grasped her straining wrist with her other hand.

She dug her heels in, taking a step forward, trying to force the flames to collapse.

"What is happen—"

BOOM!

A second, more violent explosion ripped through the arena.

But this one was different. It wasn't just fire. It was pure force.

Lyra's dome of flames was turned inside out, erupting outwards in a chaotic wave. The sudden release of the immense steam pressure created a deafening shockwave that blasted across the field.

Lyra was caught in the epicenter. Engulfed in her own scattered flames, she was lifted off her feet by the force of the shockwave and sent tumbling backward across the stone floor like a broken doll.

Lyra felt the ache in every fiber of her being as she pushed herself up on her forearms.

A sharp pain shot through her knee, and she clutched it with a hiss, blood seeping between her fingers.

"What just happened?" she mumbled.

She slowly got to her feet, trying to see through the dissipating cloud of steam and smoke.

She could make out the silhouettes of the stands, the faces of the spectators blurred and indistinct.

Then she turned back towards the center of the arena and she froze.

What she saw was the gleaming tip of a spear, hovering just inches from her face.

As the last of the mist cleared, it revealed Aurelion.

He was panting, his chest rising and falling heavily, but he held the spear perfectly steady, its point aimed directly between her eyes.

"That's enough, Lyra," Aurelion said, his voice was now loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The fight is over. You've lost."

He then leaned in, a faint, smile touching his lips as he whispered, "Or do you want a little more?"

"I really hate you," she snarled, all the fight draining out of her.

With a groan of exhaustion, she threw herself onto her back, sprawling on the stone floor. She raised a limp hand.

"I give up! I'm done! Someone heal me, please."

The referee stepped in immediately.

"Winner, Aurelion!" he declared, officially ending the match.

At that moment, Elara rushed forward, kneeling beside Lyra. Kael followed a moment later, just as Aurelion began to stumble away from the scene.

"It worked," Kael said under his breath as he reached Lyra's side.

Aurelion turned his head to the left and saw a figure much larger than him heading in his direction.

"Of course, it will work," he muttered to himself.

He stopped and waited as Emil came to a halt in front of him.

"I am Emil of the Giant Bone clan," the bigger boy declared.

"I challenge you. Will you accept, Elf? Right now."

The referee quickly moved between them. "Emil, if you're going to make a challenge, do it tomorrow. He just came out of a match."

"It's alright, referee," Aurelion cut in. His breath was still coming in ragged gasps.

"If someone wants to fight me, I see no issue. I'm sure I can still put up a good show, even in this state. I accept your challenge Emil."

The referee approached Aurelion. "It doesn't matter what you have with the clans. Academy rules apply here. You can wait until tomorrow if you want."

Aurelion offered a weary smile. "No need to postpone what can be done today. Right, Emil?"

Emil looked at the elf with suspicion. "He accepted so easily? I was supposed to remind him of his agreement if he refused," he thought.

"Right?" Aurelion repeated.

Emil snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the referee. "Yes! He accepted my challenge. Please, referee this match as well."

The referee sighed. "Alright. Take your positions."

He then turned to Lyra, Kael, and Elara. "And you three, get out of here."

Emil retrieved his bone spear and took his stance. Aurelion took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and settled into his own familiar posture.

"Now," the referee announced, "a challenge match between third year student Emil of the Giant Bone clan, and first year student Aurelion."

In the crowd, Fendrel approached a newly arrived Ylva. "Cousin," he said.

"After his fight with Emil, this might be a good time for you to challenge him."

Ylva looked at the tired, panting Aurelion. "He fought the girl named Lyra, didn't he?"

"Yes," Fendrel confirmed. "And now he's fighting Emil. He is tired."

"He's acting," Ylva stated flatly.

Fendrel blinked. "Acting?"

"Yes. He's acting. Most likely, he probably wants to be challenged."

"Begin!" the referee roared.

Fendrel looked at Ylva, a skeptical frown on his face. "You didn't see the whole fight, cousin. It's impossible for him to be acting."

A piercing scream suddenly echoed from the arena.

Fendrel whipped his head back just in time to see Emil clutching a charred, smoking wound on his shoulder. And standing a few feet away was Aurelion.

His earlier exhaustion had vanished completely. A wicked smirk played on his lips as tiny sparks crackled playfully between his fingers.