Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The next match was between Azalea and Khione, the elven princess herself stepping forward, bow already in hand, her green eyes shining with excitement. She had asked to fight Khione directly, and the white-haired maiden had accepted without hesitation.

The two moved onto the grand stage. Unlike the smaller dueling circles, this arena was a vast expanse of stone and shimmering barrier, strengthened with powerful regenerative wards to withstand even the fiercest Law-clashes. The air itself seemed to grow sharper, tingling with prana as if the space anticipated the storm to come.

A fight between a mage and a knight.

Khione held a wand carved from deep-blue crystal, faint frost dripping from its tip. Opposite her, Azalea raised her long elven bow, its emerald frame humming with the breath of the forest. Both women stood tall, one calm and statuesque like an eternal glacier, the other vibrant and wild like a rushing gale.

Prana swirled around them in dazzling torrents. Then, in the silence before the storm, they locked eyes.

Azalea struck first. With fluid grace, she nocked a Wind arrow, invisible to the naked eye, and released. Then another. Then a flurry, her fingers moving like a blur as arrows rained down in rapid succession. Each arrow cut the air with deadly precision, slicing so fast the sound cracked like whips across the arena.

But Khione’s face did not shift an inch. Her expression remained still, untouched. She raised her free hand slowly, fingers slender and pale as snow. The incoming wind arrows froze mid-flight, trapped in crystalline prisons before shattering into harmless glitter. With a flick of her wand, she conjured her own retaliation.

From the air behind her, ice formed into sharp, glittering arrows. With a sharp motion, she released them in a volley that streaked forward, shining like falling stars.

The clash began.

Azalea danced across the field, her movements light and ethereal, as if she were one with the wind itself. She slipped between ice arrows, vaulting over one, sliding beneath another, spinning mid-air to let a shard whistle past her cheek. Her counter came instantly — she fired her bow sideways, releasing wind arrows so fast they became a storm.

Khione stood her ground like a fortress. She swept her wand, conjuring walls of ice that rose with thunderous force, blocking the storm of arrows. Every impact rattled the barrier, cracking and splintering its surface. Yet before the ice could fully break, she reinforced it, repairing fractures with seamless elegance.

”Not bad,” Azalea called with a grin, her voice carried by the wind itself. ”But try to catch me first!”

The wind gathered beneath her feet, and with a sudden rush, she propelled herself skyward. Her long blonde hair streamed behind her like a banner as she floated, raining down arrows from above. Each one carried slicing gales that curved mid-flight, unpredictable and deadly.

Khione’s ice blue eyes narrowed, finally showing a flicker of focus. She raised her wand skyward, and the temperature plummeted. The air frosted white, every breath visible in pale mist. A giant circle of ice bloomed beneath her feet, and from it surged jagged spears of frost that shot upward like a frozen forest, intercepting Azalea’s storm of arrows.

The stage shook as wind and ice slammed together. Shards of frost and currents of slicing wind scattered in all directions, sparks of prana hissing across the barrier.

Azalea landed lightly, her bow glowing brighter as she pulled on deeper prana. A vortex formed around her, green light dancing like ethereal ribbons. Each step she took, the wind obeyed, coiling at her command. She vanished in a blur, reappearing at Khione’s side, loosing an arrow at point-blank range.

Khione twisted her wand with inhuman calm, a thin shield of ice snapping into place. The arrow pierced halfway, cracks spiderwebbing, before freezing solid. The shield dissolved into a glittering spray of frost. Without pause, Khione swept her wand horizontally.

A slicing arc of pure ice, razor-sharp, roared toward Azalea.

Azalea bent backward, hair whipping, the frozen blade missing her by inches. She countered instantly, using the momentum to fire two arrows in opposite directions. The wind curved them mid-flight, turning them back toward Khione from both flanks.

Khione’s wand spun — and a frozen mist burst forth, cloaking her in a blizzard. The arrows disappeared into the storm, their energy snuffed out as frost consumed them.

The battle reached its peak.

Wind howled, ice cracked, and the arena became a battlefield of natural forces. The sky itself within the barrier seemed to darken, clouds of prana swirling above. Azalea’s laughter rang out, exhilarated, as she poured more and more of herself into the fight. Khione’s face remained calm, but her aura grew heavier, sharper, like a blade honed to perfection.

Finally, the clash turned.

Azalea leapt into the air once more, her body wrapped in a spiraling gale. She aimed her bow downward, green eyes blazing, and unleashed a massive arrow infused with crushing wind pressure — strong enough to shatter mountains.

Khione did not move. She pressed her wand into the ground, whispering a single wordless command.

’’Ice Spike!”

From beneath her feet, a colossal glacier erupted upward, crystalline and magnificent, as if a mountain of ice had been summoned from another world. The arrow struck it with deafening force — and shattered. Wind exploded outward in a storm, but the glacier held firm, towering unbroken.

Azalea gasped as Khione raised her wand once more. With a swift, decisive gesture, countless shards of ice erupted from the glacier, spiraling upward in a storm of frozen death. They streaked through the air like a thousand comets, surrounding Azalea on all sides.

The elven princess fired desperately, arrows cutting through dozens, but there were too many. The ice storm closed in, faster, colder, sharper — until the final shard slammed past her defenses, striking her bow and knocking it aside. The rest followed, surrounding her in a prison of frozen blades.

The barrier shimmered, signaling the match’s end.

Azalea stood panting, sweat on her brow, her clothes torn and her bow frozen solid in ice. Despite her smile, defeat burned in her eyes.

Across from her, Khione lowered her wand. Her white hair was tousled, a faint flush on her cheeks from exertion, her breath just slightly unsteady. She looked more alive than usual, but her victory was absolute.

The others outside the barrier whistled in awe.

Khione had won, slightly disheveled, but overwhelming in her dominance.

Azalea grinned despite her loss, shaking her head as the ice melted around her. ”I’ll beat you next time, ice queen.”

Khione only gave her a faint nod, calm and regal, though for a moment — just a moment — her lips curved in the smallest of smiles.

Elreth eyed Nero who chuckled. This was unavoidable. And truth be told even if he didn’t like interacting with the princess, he desired to fight her, seriously once. His blood was boiling.