Chapter 219: Chapter 219 – Shadow Versus Flame

The starting siren hadn’t even fully faded when Isaac Moonfall moved so fast the average eye couldn’t track him.

Arianna didn’t panic. Her crimson eyes swept rapidly, scanning every corner, every shadow, every footfall on the arena floor. Her ears caught the sound of her own breath, her heartbeat, and beneath it, the faintest whisper.

Left rear.

She spun, arm raised to block, but Isaac had already materialized. His small frame shot out from the darkness beneath the stands, twin black daggers striking like serpent fangs.

In an instant, Arianna’s entire body exploded.

BOOM.

Arianna’s entire body erupted in a blaze of reddish-gold fire. The heat was so intense that the marble tiles around her cracked instantly, shockwaves rippling outward in a three-meter radius. Isaac, whose daggers had been half an inch from Arianna’s back, was forced to leap backward.

“OH! ARIANNA BLAZINGER HAS UNLEASHED HER FIRE POWER! THIS IS SOMETHING ONLY THE LEGENDARY BLAZEWALKER COULD ONCE DO! TRULY LIKE MOTHER, LIKE DAUGHTER!” the Announcer shrieked, his voice pitched with enthusiasm. “THE ARENA’S TEMPERATURE HAS RISEN SEVERAL DEGREES IN SECONDS! EXTRAORDINARY!”

In the arena, Arianna was already airborne. Her feet didn’t touch the ground—her entire body was suspended by small jets of flame from her soles and back, hovering about a meter above the smoldering floor. Her red hair whipped like a burning banner, her now-orange glowing eyes fixed sharply on Isaac.

“You think you can run from me?” Her voice resonated, deeper than before. “Wherever you run, the fire will find you.”

Isaac didn’t answer. He ran.

Arianna raised one hand. A fireball the size of a human head formed in her palm, then shot forward like cannon fire.

EXPLOSION!

Isaac dodged left, rolling, then immediately sprinted again. Second and third fireballs followed, slamming into the floor behind him, leaving small craters with smoldering edges.

Spectators on the west side screamed as marble shrapnel flew toward them, but transparent magical barriers instantly materialized along the arena’s perimeter, containing all debris.

Isaac ran in unpredictable zigzags. Occasionally he’d pause briefly, hurling his daggers at Arianna to break her concentration. Arianna deflected them with instant flame shields, or simply turned her head and watched the daggers melt mid-air before reaching her face.

But every failed fireball, every avoided strike, left its mark on the arena. The once-pristine white marble floor was now pockmarked with scorched craters, spreading cracks, piles of debris. Thick smoke began billowing from at least ten different points.

And Isaac began moving within that smoke.

Arianna stopped throwing. Her body still hovered, her eyes sweeping the arena warily. Isaac shifted positions rapidly—once east, the next second west, his movements leaving blurred trails difficult to track. The smoke aided him, creating concealment around every maneuver.

“Where is he?!”

“I can’t see him—he’s too fast!”

“BEHIND THE SMOKE!”

Arianna turned left. Behind a thick curtain of smoke, she could faintly make out the silhouette of a small body streaking through. Without a second thought, Arianna raised both hands.

“Burn.”

A massive fireball—three times larger than before—formed above her head. The air around it vibrated, and several front-row spectators instinctively began backing away.

“D-Does she intend to blow up the entire arena?!” The Announcer nearly lost his voice. “A HIGH-INTENSITY FIREBALL! ARIANNA BLAZINGER MEANS BUSINESS!”

Arianna launched it.

The fireball streaked forward like a small meteor, slamming directly into the area where the silhouette had been spotted.

BOOOOOOM!

The explosion was so violent the spectator stands shook. Shockwaves of heat spread in every direction, drawing screams from women in the audience who covered their faces. Floor fragments flew everywhere, black smoke billowed skyward.

Arianna smiled in satisfaction.

That smile froze.

The exploded silhouette left no blood. No body. Nothing but scorched stone and marble fragments.

“That was… just smoke?!” she thought.

From Arianna’s right, a dagger shot out from behind a pile of rubble.

CLANG!

Arianna deflected it with a flame shield. The dagger rebounded, spinning through the air. And before it could hit the ground—

Another figure emerged from the opposite direction.

Arianna started.

“Two?!”

She shot upward immediately, putting distance between herself and both threats. But the figures didn’t pursue. They simply stood there, silent, waiting.

Arianna ground her teeth. Her breathing was growing slightly labored. She’d been too eager. Too quick to unleash techniques that drained her stamina. Now smoke was everywhere, and she couldn’t distinguish the real Isaac from the decoys.

Calm down, she told herself. Control yourself. You’re here to prove yourself in front of your mother.

She closed her eyes. Just for a moment.

Then she descended.

Her feet touched the scorched, cracked ground. The flames covering her body dimmed—no longer explosive, but still smoldering across her skin like slow-flowing lava. She lowered her center of gravity, both hands open.

She released a circular flame burst.

A thin wave of fire spread horizontally from her body, like a ring of light expanding in all directions. Wherever the ring touched smoke, the smoke vaporized.

The arena slowly cleared.

But Isaac was still nowhere to be seen.

Arianna turned slowly, her eyes scanning every inch of the arena. Massive debris from her explosion. Deep fissures in the floor. Shadows cast by patches of still-burning flames in several corners.

Empty.

Where was he—

BAM.

From behind the largest slab of floor, directly behind her, Isaac Moonfall shot out. He’d been hiding there the entire time, flattened against the debris, holding his breath, waiting for Arianna’s focus to waver.

Arianna managed to turn, her hand rising—

But Isaac was faster.

His left dagger slashed horizontally, opening a long gash across Arianna’s back, from her right shoulder blade to her left hip. Fresh crimson blood sprayed, soaking her battle dress.

Arianna screamed in fury.

EXPLOSION.

Isaac had retreated, but not fast enough. A devastating wave of fire erupted from Arianna’s body, melting the hem of Isaac’s robe and singeing part of his hair. Isaac was forced to leap backward, both daggers crossed before his chest as an emergency shield.

“Arianna Blazinger is wounded! ISAAC HAS ACTUALLY MANAGED TO INFLICT A SERIOUS INJURY, BUT SHE SHOWS NO SIGN OF SURRENDER! HER WRATH BURNS FIERCER THAN EVER!”

Arianna stood tall, though blood still flowed down her back. Her face was pale, but her eyes blazed. In her right hand, fire stretched and condensed—forming a blade bright orange, nearly white at its edges. In her left hand, fire spread and thickened—forming a round shield with a spinning surface.

She no longer flew.

She ran.

Flame sword met Isaac’s daggers. Sparks flew. Isaac retreated one step, then two. His small frame couldn’t match the force of Arianna’s rage-driven charge. Every slash forced Isaac to parry with both daggers simultaneously, and each parry left his arms feeling scorched.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN DEFEAT ME?!” Arianna pressed forward, her flame sword locked against Isaac’s daggers. “I AM ARIANNA BLAZINGER! I WILL NOT LOSE TO A MERE SHADOW LIKE YOU!”

Isaac didn’t answer. He just held his ground, retreating steadily, searching for an opening.

But Arianna gave him none.

Her sword swung from above, from the side, thrust from below—every motion precise, every strike lethal. Her flame shield didn’t just defend—it attacked; whenever Isaac tried to close from her left, the shield spat embers into his face.

“ISAAC MOONFALL IS BEING OVERWHELMED! ARIANNA BLAZINGER IS RAMPAGING WITH A PERFECT SWORD-AND-SHIELD COMBINATION! IS THIS THE END OF DRAKEFIELD’S SHADOW FIGHTER?!”

On the Drakefield bench, several students had risen, their faces tense—though a few appeared oddly relaxed, as if confident in their representative’s victory. On the Nine Stars bench, Violet sat with arms folded, her expression unreadable.

Isaac managed to create distance—only two meters, but enough to catch his breath. His robe was torn in several places, his face smeared with soot, his hands trembling slightly from the heat radiating from Arianna’s sword.

He looked at Arianna, then toward the stands.

Toward the Nine Stars bench.

Toward Yukie, seated calmly in the front row.

“Honestly,” he murmured, barely audible over the roar of flames, “I was saving this for Yukie.”

Arianna frowned. “What?”

Isaac didn’t answer. He leaped backward, attempting to create distance.

But Arianna gave him no chance.

She lunged, her flame sword ready to strike—

And Isaac Moonfall split himself.

One body became two, two became three. Three identical figures with the same posture, the same daggers, the same aura—standing on three sides of Arianna, surrounding her in a perfect triangle. Not one appeared to be a decoy. All three were real.

Arianna froze. Her eyes darted from one Isaac to the next, searching for the original.

There was none.

And all three attacked simultaneously.

Arianna detonated her flames again, the largest explosion she’d unleashed yet. A wave of heat radiated in every direction, melting the floor around her, making the air vibrate.

Two Isaacs—from left and right—did not retreat.

They charged directly into the fire.

Their daggers slashed Arianna’s shoulder, tore through her left arm, gouged her right flank. Blood sprayed, mingling with sparks. Arianna screamed, but her flames couldn’t stop them—because they weren’t decoys, not illusions. They were Isaac, as real as the original Isaac.

But they weren’t immortal either.

Within two seconds of that fiery onslaught, both Isaac bodies were scorched and crumbling, dissolving into scattered ash. Arianna dropped to one knee, gasping, blood streaming from three fresh wounds.

Before her, the remaining Isaac stood.

His face was pale, his breathing ragged. The self-division technique had clearly drained enormous energy. But his eyes remained sharp, and his dagger was now aimed at Arianna.

Arianna tried to rise. Her flame sword still burned, though dimmer. Her shield had collapsed entirely, only residual sparks clinging to her left arm.

Isaac gave her no time.

He kicked.

His sole struck Arianna’s chest directly at the sternum. Arianna fell onto her back, her flame sword extinguished, and before she could move, Isaac was atop her.

Cold steel pressed against her throat.

The Colosseum fell silent.

Isaac’s breath was heavy and uneven. So was Arianna’s. Both were drenched in blood, sweat, and soot. Isaac’s face showed no victory—only restrained relief. Arianna’s face…

Arianna stared at the Colosseum’s stained glass ceiling, colorful light streaming onto her pale features.

“I won,” Isaac rasped.

Arianna didn’t answer. Her jaw tightened. Her teeth ground together. At her temples, muscles bulged.

Slowly, she turned her face away.

Toward the stands.

Toward the seat that was now empty, because her mother no longer sat there. Ophelia Blazinger now sat in the ordinary rows, among former members and retired Hunters. No robe, no special seat. Just a middle-aged woman, watching her daughter with an expressionless face.

Arianna’s fist clenched. Her nails dug into her own palm.

“V-VICTORY GOES TO ISAAC MOONFALL OF DRAKEFIELD ACADEMY!” the Announcer finally declared, his voice trembling. “ARIANNA BLAZINGER OF NINE STARS ACADEMY HAS BEEN DEFEATED! TRULY AN EXTRAORDINARY BATTLE!”

Cheers for Drakefield echoed through the arena, though not as thunderous as before. Many spectators remained silent, processing what they’d just witnessed—the tension had been so thick—before finally erupting.

It was the most epic fight so far.

Isaac withdrew his dagger and stood. He offered Arianna his hand.

Arianna didn’t take it.

She rose on her own, though her body swayed. Without looking at Isaac, without looking at anyone, she walked away from the arena. Blood still dripped from the wound on her back, leaving a crimson trail across the scorched marble floor.

Medical staff immediately approached Arianna and escorted her for treatment.

On the Nine Stars bench, Violet stood. Her gaze fixed on the bench, on the brown-haired figure sitting at the row’s end.

“Maximus,” she called.

Maximus Treybern shot to his feet. A wide smile instantly spread across his face. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for—a chance to prove himself after yesterday’s humiliating defeat.

“Ready, Instructor,” he said, his voice brimming with confidence.

Violet gave a curt nod. “Your turn.”

Maximus strode toward the arena with palpable enthusiasm, muscles tensed, fists clenched. He couldn’t wait to show that his loss to Adam had been a fluke. That he was still, and would always be, stronger.

Meanwhile, on the bench, I yawned widely.

Boring.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep