Mira Hale’s voice cut through the lingering cheers like a blade—calm, professional, but carrying an undercurrent of something heavier.

“Due to direct orders from the Academy Council, the following students will not be permitted to participate in their scheduled duels.”

A low murmur rippled through the colosseum—commoners confused, nobles suddenly attentive.

Mira continued without pause.

“Lysandra Nightshade. Zerra Nightshade. Xylandra Nightshade. Valeforia Nightshade. And finally… Aethoniel Nightshade.”

She let the names hang for a moment—then delivered the verdict.

“As such… victory is automatically awarded to their respective opponents.”

The murmur became a wave.

Commoners groaned—disappointed.

Nobles leaned forward—smirks spreading like wildfire.

—

Back in the high gallery—

Lysandra’s crimson eyes snapped to Aiden—narrowed, accusing.

“You did this. Didn’t you?”

Aiden met her gaze—expression calm, unapologetic.

“I might’ve… suggested it.”

Zerra—sitting cross-legged beside her—pouted dramatically, arms crossed under her chest.

“Hero…! I wanted to fight…”

Xylandra exhaled a long, relieved breath—shoulders dropping.

“Thank you, saviour…”

Valeforia leaned back—smirking faintly.

“About time someone showed sense.”

Aethoniel simply bowed her head slightly—voice quiet but grateful.

“Thank you… Saviour.”

Aiden chuckled—low, warm—reaching over to ruffle Zerra’s hair.

“I’m not gonna sit here and watch my loves get hurt. You girls don’t have any offensive magic worth risking your necks over.”

Lysandra’s glare softened—just a fraction.

“That’s… true.”

Nayla nodded slowly.

“Smart move, husband. They’d get torn apart.”

Thristle bounced once—violet eyes sparkling.

“But now we get to watch Ela! That’s exciting!”

Ela—sitting primly beside Liana—blushed faintly but didn’t protest.

Elowen Voss’s voice rang out again—bright, enthusiastic.

“For our next duel… I would like to call Lady Ela Voss from the noble house of Voss—and Katerine Lenbourg from the noble house of Lenbourg!”

A thunderous cheer erupted from the noble section—louder than any commoner chant so far.

“VOSS! VOSS! VOSS!”

“Finally—a proper noble fight!”

“Show those mud-bloods what real duel looks like!”

—

Elarion and Elara finally turned their attention toward the central stage then at Aiden’s group.

Elara’s lips curled—half sneer, half anticipation.

“It’s finally her turn.”

Elarion’s icy blue eyes tracked Ela as she rose gracefully from Liana’s side—lavender hair catching the light, amethyst eyes calm but determined.

“Hmm…” he murmured. “Let’s see if she can live up to the Voss name.”

Elara snorted—crossing her arms.

“And why the hell is she sitting with those mud-bloods? She’s getting far too chummy with them.”

Her gaze flicked to Aiden—then back to Ela—eyes narrowing.

“Do you think she… likes him?”

Elarion’s expression darkened—jaw tightening.

“Maybe.”

He leaned forward—voice dropping to something cold, possessive.

“Even if she does… it doesn’t matter.”

Elara’s smirk turned vicious.

“She’s still a Voss. She belongs with high bloods.”

—

Ela Voss stood beside Aiden’a group now, ready to head for the duel.

She turned slowly, facing Aiden and his sprawling group of wives.

The first to speak was Luna—wolf ears perked, tail wagging furiously as she bounced on Aiden’s lap.

“Ela! You’re gonna do amazing!” she chirped, fists clenched in excitement. “They won’t know what hit them!”

Ela’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Luna.”

Nyxion leaned forward next—shadowy tail flicking lazily behind her.

“Don’t hold back,” she said—voice low, approving.

Ela nodded—amethyst eyes steady.

“I will.”

Thristle bounced up—practically vibrating.

“Crush her! You’ve got this, Ela-chan!”

Ela laughed softly—soft sound, almost shy.

“I’ll… try my best.”

Nayla stretched languidly—lips curling into a wicked smile.

“Mmm… make it pretty when you win. I like watching elegant violence.”

Ela’s cheeks pinked—just a touch—but she inclined her head.

“…Noted.”

Lysandra stepped closer—golden hair glowing in the light—placing a gentle hand on Ela’s shoulder.

“You carry the Voss name with grace,” she said quietly. “But more importantly—you carry yourself with strength. We believe in you.”

Ela’s eyes softened.

“Thank you… Lysandra.”

Valeforia—still lounging with one arm draped over Xylandra’s shoulders—grinned lazily.

“Break her wand. Or her face. Whichever comes first.”

Liana—finally recovered from her earlier sulk.

“Go get her!” she chirped—voice bright again. “Show those stuck-up nobles what you can do!”

“I will.”

One by one the others murmured encouragement—small words, smiles, nods—until the gallery felt like a quiet cocoon of support.

Then silence fell.

Aiden rose from his seat—slow, deliberate—every movement carrying that effortless, dangerous grace.

He stepped forward—stopping just close enough that Ela had to tilt her head slightly to meet his eyes.

For a moment neither spoke.

Then Aiden reached out—slowly—brushing a stray lock of lavender hair behind her ear.

His voice was low—meant only for her.

“You don’t need luck,” he said—thumb lingering a heartbeat longer than necessary against her cheek. “You have power. You have control. And you have us.”

Ela’s breath caught—just for a second.

Her amethyst eyes shimmered—something vulnerable flickering behind the calm facade.

“Thank you… Sir.”

He smiled—small, private, warm in a way few ever saw.

“Go remind them why you matter.”

Ela exhaled—steadying herself—then nodded once.

“I will.”

She turned—back straight, shoulders squared—and walked toward the arena stairs.

The wives watched her go—silent pride radiating from every one of them.

Liana leaned toward the group—whispering.

“She’s gonna win, right?”

Valeforia smirked—arm tightening around her.

“Our husband just wished her luck. Of course she can.”

Aiden settled back onto the bench—eyes never leaving Ela’s retreating figure.

His voice was quiet—almost to himself.

“She will win.”

—

Ela Voss stepped onto the arena floor with quiet grace, her lavender hair swaying like silk in the breeze. The crowd’s murmurs swelled into a low roar as the nobles cheered for one of their own and the commoners watched with cautious hope. She carried a slender silver wand tipped with a glowing amethyst crystal, her posture elegant but ready.

Opposite her stood Katerine Lenbourg.

The tall noble girl moved with predatory confidence, her split red-brown-and-white hair cascading in dramatic waves down her back. The red academy uniform clung to her body like a second skin—stretched obscenely tight across her massive, heaving breasts that strained every button of the blazer, threatening to burst free with each breath. Her pleated skirt rode high on her wide, fertile hips, the fabric barely covering the tops of her thick, plush thighs wrapped in sheer black thigh-high stockings with intricate gold embroidery that drew the eye upward. Her purple eyes burned with arrogance, full lips curled in a smug smile, and every sway of her hips made her enormous chest jiggle hypnotically while the red cape fluttered behind her like spilled blood.

Katerine raised her own wand—a sleek obsidian rod etched with crimson runes—and twirled it once.

“Voss blood?” she sneered, voice dripping condescension. “Let’s see if you can live upto your name.”

Mira Hale’s voice echoed clearly.

“Match 18: Lady Ela Voss versus Katerine Lenbourg. Begin!”

Katerine struck first.

She flicked her wand in a sharp circle. Crimson threads of energy wove out from the fabric of her own uniform—animated silk ribbons bursting to life, whipping forward like living serpents infused with draining power. The threads aimed to bind Ela’s limbs and sap her mana on contact.

Ela didn’t flinch.

Her wand rose in a fluid arc—amethyst light flaring.

A wall of shimmering ice crystals erupted from the ground—tall, razor-edged hexagonal panels forming a perfect defensive barrier. The velvet threads slammed into the ice and shattered on impact, fragments dissolving into harmless mist.

Katerine’s smirk faltered for half a second.

Ela countered instantly.

She swept her wand downward. A barrage of high-level ice spears materialized mid-air—each one razor-sharp and glowing with freezing blue energy—and launched forward in a deadly storm.

Katerine spun her wand—summoning more crimson silk threads that wove into a spinning shield. The ice spears hammered against it, cracking the fabric barrier but not breaking through completely.

Ela didn’t let up.

She raised her free hand—ice magic surging.

The arena floor beneath Katerine froze solid in an instant—thick sheets of ice locking her boots in place. Katerine snarled, trying to wrench free, but the ice held fast.

Ela stepped forward—calm, precise.

Her wand glowed brighter.

A massive crystal cage formed around Katerine—thick amethyst bars rising from the frozen ground, enclosing her completely. The bars pulsed with cold energy, draining warmth from the air itself.

Katerine laughed—harsh, defiant—then slashed her wand in a vicious arc.

Crimson velvet threads exploded outward—wrapping around the crystal bars, trying to crush and drain them. The ice groaned… but held.

Ela’s voice carried softly across the arena.

“You rely on draining others… but you can’t drain what you can’t touch.”

She brought her wand down in a sharp, elegant motion.

The crystal cage shattered inward—turning into thousands of razor-sharp ice shards that rained down on Katerine from every direction.

Katerine screamed—raising her arms desperately. Her crimson threads formed a frantic cocoon, but the shards tore through it like paper. Cuts bloomed across her arms, thighs. thin lines of red welling up against pale skin.

She staggered, breasts heaving as blood trickled down her arms.

Ela didn’t hesitate.

She raised her wand high—amethyst light blazing like a star.

A colossal ice spear formed above the arena—thicker than a tree trunk, glowing with freezing power—and hurtled downward.

Katerine’s eyes widened.

She poured everything into one last defense—crimson threads weaving into a desperate dome.

The spear struck.

The dome exploded.

Katerine was blasted backward—slamming into the far wall with a thunderous crash. Her body slid down—uniform shredded, massive breasts spilling partially free from the torn blazer, thighs marked with frostbite and cuts, breathing ragged.

She tried to rise—wand trembling—then collapsed.

The arena fell silent for one heartbeat.

Then the crowd detonated.

Both Commoners and Nobles cheered wildly.

Elarion and Ela smirked.

“Expected. She wouldn’t be a Voss otherwise.”

Elowen Voss’s voice rang out—shaken but professional.

“Winner… Lady Ela Voss!”

Ela lowered her wand—breathing steady—then turned and bowed once toward the gallery.

Her eyes found Elarion and Elara.

*Brother, Sister… I hope I was able impress you two.*

Her eyes found Aiden and his wives, cheering and waving toward her.

*Thank you.*

She smiled—small, quiet, proud.

—

Back in the high gallery—

Aiden’s grin was slow—dark with pride.

“Nice.”

The wives erupted in soft cheers and applause.

Ela walked off the field—head high—amethyst eyes shining.

—

END OF CHAPTER : 296 : ELA VOSS V/S KATERINE LENBOURG!

—

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep