Natasha felt a hot wave of indignation wash over her. A duel against a twelve-year-old princess? It wasn't a challenge; it was a deliberate, searing insult to her decades of cultivation.

​"Fighting a child, who the hell does that?" she snapped, her voice cutting the arena's tense silence.

"The princess is just a child! Why are you sending her to me? Are you trying to humiliate me before everyone here?" Her cold glare was locked on Sunny.

​A slender, formidable figure descended from the royal platform. Ellen moved with a preternatural grace that belied her years, her arms crossed over a finely embroidered silk tunic. Her expression wasn't one of youthful arrogance, but of chilling, practiced poise.

​"My father is not attempting to humiliate you, Natasha," Ellen's voice was low, yet carried an unfamiliar weight—a resonance that seemed to momentarily suppress the ambient magic in the arena.

"He is attempting to grant you a merciful path out of this conflict you caused. You dared challenge the King of Eldoria, a ruler whose lineage traces back to the very beginning—an individual whose Divinity Core is a cosmic furnace. Knowing this, you still act with such base arrogance. You are too blinded by your own perceived strength."

'Wow... I don't know I am so great! Good job dear.' Sunny thought with a proud smirk.

​Ellen's feet touched the ground, stirring a subtle ripple in the dust. "So, I, as his daughter and heir, shall set you in your proper place."

​Natasha blinked, the practiced composure of years finally cracking. 'Isn't she just a twelve-year-old? Why is she speaking with the voice of an ancient elder?'

The air around Ellen felt wrong, not potent with raw power, but quiet, as if reality itself bent to her command. She turned, seeking guidance from the Eldorian Queen.

​"My Queen, I humbly request-"

​"You don't have to continue, Natasha," Josephine's voice was soft, yet final. "You heard the King. The challenge has been accepted by the royal bloodline."

​"Understood, Your Majesty." Natasha offered a stiff bow, then turned back to Sunny. Her honor demanded she proceed, but her pride was a painful, throbbing wound.

"I shall not target the Princess with lethal force. However, if she is injured due to her own lack of foresight, I must not be blamed." She paused, her voice hardening.

"Do you agree to these terms?"

​Sunny's eyes narrowed, a flicker of amusement and a deeper, unsettling pride in them. He gave a small, almost dismissive nod.

​"My father's word is law," Ellen stated. "Now, why don't you make the first move? Be warned: if I initiate, I cannot guarantee you will be able to defend, even at the Pinnacle you've achieved."

​Natasha's jaw clenched. 'This child has no boundaries! No one in the world of strength speaks to a Divine Rank warrior this way!'

​Sunny leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. 'Ellen broke through to the Divine Rank during her training regimen in planet Gaia . You're both in the same Rank, but your attacks—pure light—will be useless against her.'

​"Very well. I shall attack first." Natasha gathered her energy, calling upon her element. A dazzling sphere of pure, condensed light formed rapidly between her hands, made with precisely 10% of her celestial Energy.

​"We shall see if this defense of yours can hold!" she yelled, hurling the sphere.

​"Are you taking me for a common Radiant cultivator?" Ellen didn't move. Her gaze, which was now a shade lighter than before, simply rested on the approaching orb.

​With a soundless flick, the massive ball of light instantly imploded into nothingness, not even a wisp of residual energy remaining. It was as if a cosmic eraser had wiped it from existence.

​"Do you truly believe I am weak?" Ellen asked, her tone flat, devoid of emotion. She extended a finger, and a slender, clean arrow of condensed white light materialized, humming softly. "It is my turn. This, too, carries 10% of my strength. I hope you can block it."

​"You are also underestimating me!" Natasha felt a desperate need to reclaim her dignity. Relying on her innate defense—she stood absolutely still.

​WHOOSH!!

​The arrow struck her chest with a minimal puff of air, and... nothing. Natasha stood, unmoving, a faint glow briefly illuminating her outfit before fading.

​"Hahahaha! I am indeed impressed you could stop 10% of my light attack—"

​BAM!!

​An unknown, visceral force—like a sudden, localized gravitational anomaly—slammed into the Ruler of Light, not from the outside, but seeming to erupt from within her own body. She was thrown backward, skidding violently across the arena dust.

​She smashed into the hard ground, spitting a mouthful of blood and dust. "This... What is happening?!"

​BAM!!

​Another invisible attack hit her, spinning her mid-air and throwing her another ten meters.

​BAM!!

​A third impact, and blood sprayed from Natasha's lips as she felt ribs crack. The audience erupted in terrified murmurs.

​"The Ruler of Light! What is happening to her?!"

​"The princess isn't moving! So why is Ruler of light being flung across the arena? Is this some hidden Aetheric Distortion technique?"

​Kick Queen muttered to herself, her eyes wide with newfound understanding. "Something is terrifyingly wrong. The Princess's first attack wasn't the main blow—it was the Trigger. Ruler of Light didn't dodge the initiation, making her the target of what followed: a chain of controlled attacks. There is no way to dodge the secondary attacks because they're being pulled from the environment itself!" She stared at Ellen in pure, professional terror.

​"If I continue this sequence, you will end up dead," Ellen finally spoke, her finger still slightly extended. She snapped it, and the relentless, unseen assault instantly ceased.

​Natasha dropped, battered, bloody, and humiliated.

​"Fighting me is useless. You are not my match," Ellen said, her gaze fixed on the broken Ruler of Light. "The difference between Light Mastery and having Light powers is absolute."

​"I... I refuse to believe it!" Natasha struggled to her feet, shaking violently, her pride screaming louder than her pain.

"I took decades in cultivation, through many major cycles! I can't be defeated by a child!" She screamed the word "child" with utter contempt.

​With a final, desperate surge, she channeled every ounce of her remaining Celestial Energy into one, final, destructive technique. A massive, pure-white beam erupted from her hands, an attack known to bypass defenses.

​'She is finally resorting to her innate Bloodline Skill, going all out. This technique bypasses all conventional defenses. Her anger has overridden her sense of self-preservation,' Sunny mused with an almost bored expression.

​Ellen's eyes changed completely. They became a luminous, impossible white, and two small, obsidian-white dragon horns, barely visible beneath her hair, sprouted from her head.

​"It seems you have not learned your lesson," Ellen said, taking one deliberate step forward.

​The Beam—an attack designed to incinerate all in its path—smashed directly into her.

​"Whoa!! That's too bright! It's consuming the air!" a man from the audience yelled, shielding his eyes.

​In the Three-Eyed Nation royal platform, Nioh shot to his feet in terror. "Is Natasha mad?! She's risking a galaxy incident!"

​"Stay calm, she won't kill the princess," his sister, Lola, said, her voice surprisingly steady, yet her eyes were filled with profound worry.

​"She used all her strength! That beam requires her entire energy reserve! She doesn't even have the power to maintain her defense, but she is still pouring energy into this attack towards a royal!" Nioh exclaimed.

​Natasha collapsed to her knees, utterly exhausted, the Beam was the only thing keeping her upright. But her mind was reeling: 'How... how can I still sense her energy? It's not being consumed! It's getting closer!'

​Then, she saw it. Slowly, deliberately, a single, unharmed hand—Ellen's hand—stretched forth from the blinding, incinerating core of the beam.

​And then, Ellen walked out of the attack, completely untouched, as if stepping through a gentle, harmless curtain of mist.

​Before Natasha could register the impossible, Ellen's hand seized her throat. The Ruler of Light froze. Her throat was far wider than Ellen's small hand, yet the pressure was absolute, and she knew that a single movement—a single thought of resistance—would snap her neck.

​"From the start, I already won," Ellen said, her white eyes fixed on Natasha's. "My father knew the nature of your skill, so winning is impossible."

​"You... How... How come my light element is utterly ineffective against you?" Natasha choked out, fear finally replacing arrogance. "Are... are you immune to light attacks?"

​Ellen's expression was the answer, a cold, hard finality. "Immunity? Control? Absolute." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper meant only for the defeated Ruler of Light.

"My Bloodline isn't just about channeling raw energy. It is about understanding the fabric of creation. The light you wield is just a pale, chaotic reflection of the Light element. You fight fire with the very air it consumes, Natasha. Your light is merely a tool, but my light is my domain."

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