While Avin carved through shadow and smoke in the background, another storm had already begun to churn across the battlefield. The sand trembled beneath the weight of three figures sprinting forward in unified formation — Theo slightly behind, Henry and the Prince leading the charge like dual spearpoints. The sun glared viciously overhead, its heat turning every breath into fire and making the battlefield shimmer as if reality itself were bending from the intensity of their mana.

Team 27 met them head-on with an equal, almost frightening resolve.

The Heavy Knight was the first to move, her massive armor thundering with each ground-shaking step. The gauntlets, the pauldrons, the mountain of steel she carried on her frame — they made her silhouette rise like a titan. Beside her, the Swordsman sprinted with surgical precision, feet digging into the sand as if he'd memorized the terrain. His eyes locked solely onto the Prince, hungry for the clash.

And behind them — almost out of place within the raging dust and heat — the blue-haired God-folk walked with an unsettling calm. Every footstep he took was slow, deliberate, as if the reality of battle did not apply to him. His expression remained serene, almost bored, as though he were watching mortals play at war.

The distance closed.

Henry and the Prince roared as one.

The Prince's sword began to hum — a deep, resonant vibration that felt more alive than metal. Then the spine of the blade split open, venting a violent surge of golden mana. His armor responded instantly: small mechanisms unfolded across his back, hips, and boots like mechanical petals blossoming outward. Thin channels of alloy unfurled — vents designed to release the Prince's true power.

And then—

FWOOOOSH!

Golden flames exploded from every vent.

The sand cracked beneath him.

And in the next heartbeat, the Prince was no longer there.

A golden streak tore forward, ripping a trail through the battlefield. The heat distorted the air around him, leaving behind a sharply carved scar in the sand as he cut a path straight toward the Swordsman with terrifying, unstoppable velocity.

The Swordsman reacted immediately. His foot smashed into the ground, anchoring him. His sword rose vertically, braced against his shoulder. His entire body stiffened like a wall braced for a hurricane.

He was prepared to meet the Prince.

But the battlefield had other plans.

A Dimensional Door materialized between them, shimmering with shifting reflections — as if someone had cut a perfect wound into space itself. The Prince, mid-dash, had no need to adjust; he simply plunged into the opening at full speed, disappearing into its surface like a comet falling into water.

Across the battlefield, another portal ripped open.

This time, directly in front of the God-folk.

For the first time since the fight began, the God-folk's face shifted. A faint widening of the eyes — not fear, but genuine surprise that anyone had tried something so direct against him.

Even that surprise lasted less than a heartbeat.

A swirl of crystalline water pooled beneath his feet. In an instant the liquid froze into a flawless sheet of ice, smooth as glass. He leaned a fraction to the right — barely a physical movement at all — and the ice carried him sideways with ghostly ease. He slid out of the Prince's path in a silent, effortless arc.

The Prince erupted out of the portal at that exact moment — a golden blur screaming forward, slicing through the empty space the God-folk had occupied just seconds before. His body tore past with so much heat that the ice hissed, melting around its edges.

Their eyes clashed mid-motion.

The Prince's burning gold.The God-folk's still, ocean-blue — impossibly calm, ancient, and unreadable.

The Prince's momentum dragged him several meters forward before he could stop. To anchor himself, he slammed his boots into the ground. The armor responded — metal spikes shot downward from each boot, stabbing deep into the earth with a violent KRNNNNCH. His entire body jerked backward, the sudden stop ringing through his bones with a jarring shock.

He twisted instantly, raising his blade again, vents erupting a second blast of golden power.

But the God-folk was already drifting away on a fresh ice-line, weightless, untouchable, sliding across the battlefield as if the earth itself bent to let him pass.

The Prince's jaw clenched; frustration flickered across his face.

He figured out I only move in straight lines…

His teeth dug into his lip. Then, with a sharp gesture, he signaled Theo.

Theo's eyes sharpened.A pair of doors opened — one before the Prince, one behind Theo himself.

The Prince dove in, emerging behind Theo with a sharp gasp, every breath rattled by exertion. Sweat slid down the edges of his helmet. His gaze, however, stayed fixed on the God-folk, who still stood calmly, as though waiting for him to make his next attempt.

But there was no time to think further.

Henry reached the Heavy Knight first.

Their blades met with the force of two worlds colliding. The sound rang across the field like clashing thunder.

The Knight's attack came down like a falling mountain. Her greatsword, easily as tall as Henry himself, carved a destructive arc through the air, the sheer mass behind it enough to split the ground. Henry lifted his sword high, bracing with everything he had.

It wasn't enough.

The impact overwhelmed him instantly — his arms screamed with pain as the force ripped his weapon from his grip. He didn't even have time to react before the Knight's swing followed through and crashed into him, sending him flying across the sand like a ragdoll.

Henry slammed into the ground, dust exploding around him. The world spun violently. His lungs emptied with a painful hhnf.

The Knight wasted no time. She raised her greatsword again, the shadow of the blade stretching across Henry's neck.

It dropped.

Henry rolled, sand scraping his skin as the massive weapon slammed into the ground beside him. The impact split the earth, chunks of stone erupting upward.

Henry coughed, scrambling backward on shaking arms, trying to regain his footing —

But a sound behind him froze his blood.

A footfall.Soft, light, but full of murderous intent.

The Swordsman had arrived.

Henry's heart lurched. He turned just in time to see a flash of silver coming straight for his exposed neck.

Time slowed.The blade was an inch away.

And then—

A Dimensional Door ripped open between them.

The Swordsman hit the surface with full force, the arcane shock flinging him backward into the space beyond. The linked exit door opened right in front of the Prince.

The Swordsman tumbled out, stunned—

And the Prince met him with a fully armored golden fist.

The punch crashed into his jaw with a deep, crushing WHAM, sending him staggering back, boots tearing lines through the dirt. He held tightly to his sword to avoid collapsing outright.

But the Prince was already upon him.

He surged forward, golden mana driving him like an engine as he swept his massive sword upward in a brutal vertical cleave — a strike intended to split him entirely open.

The Swordsman stumbled backward at the last second, the blade slicing so close to his chin he felt his hair rise from the heat.

He barely regained his footing before the Prince stomped hard, detonating a burst of energy beneath his heel. He shot forward again, twisting his wrist mid-swing, shifting the upward strike into a vicious horizontal slice.

The Swordsman dragged his sword across his body to absorb the hit. Sparks erupted violently. The force shoved him across the sand, legs barely able to brace, boots carving deep trenches.

The Prince stepped in immediately, crowding the space, closing in chest-to-chest. His armored knee slammed into the Swordsman's gut, forcing a choked breath from him. The Prince brought the pommel of his sword down toward the man's skull, but the Swordsman twisted just enough that it scraped past his cheek, slicing skin and drawing a thin line of blood.

He staggered, struggling to remain upright, breathing ragged.

For a moment, the Prince did not move.He simply lifted his arm and opened his palm.

Every vent on his armor pulsed at once.

A wave of golden force rippled out — not a blast but a crushing pressure, like gravity multiplied. It slammed the Swordsman flat into the sand. The ground dipped beneath him. His ribs strained against the crushing weight as the air choked out of him.

His sword slipped from his hand.

He clawed desperately at the air — but the force held him pinned, immovable.

But desperation breeds instinct.

The Swordsman twisted his torso, planting his heel into the sand and wrenching his body sideways in a violent, rotational heave. The sudden torque loosened the pressure just enough that he could shoot one hand upward.

He grabbed the Prince's gauntlet —not to push him away,but to yank him off balance.

The Prince's center of gravity faltered for a split-second.

And the crushing pressure vanished.

The Swordsman surged up from the sand with renewed ferocity. He snatched his fallen sword and propelled himself low across the ground, using his momentum like a coiled spring released.

His blade flashed silver.

He aimed for the Prince's unarmored knee joint — a small, vulnerable mechanism where the armor plates met.

The Prince saw the glint of steel, but the sudden shift from being in control to being attacked from below left him a half-second too slow.

The blade struck home.

KR-THUNK.

The joint buckled. Vents hissed, spitting out sparks and black smoke. The Prince grunted as pain shot up his leg, his stance collapsing. He dropped almost to one knee.

The Swordsman lunged to press his advantage.

The Prince dragged in a sharp breath, golden mana flaring wildly around him. His sword rose once more, his stance broken but his fury sharpened.

The Swordsman stood his ground, gripping his sword with bloodied knuckles, sweat dripping down his jaw, eyes sharp with a survivor's grim determination.

The air between them stretched thin.

Heat shimmered off the Prince's armor, golden flames licking outward.Cold resolve radiated from the Swordsman, sand swirling around his feet in a gathering wind.

Both inhaled at the same moment.

The next exchange would not be long.

And it would not leave room for both to stand when it was over.

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