Chapitre 422: Victory and Reflection
The storm of frost surged toward me as Seraphina transitioned seamlessly into her Grade 6 art: Violet Divine Mist Art, First Movement: Violet Sunset Genesis once again. The air around her shimmered with a dense, violet-hued mist, charged with astral energy so potent it seemed to hum with life. The mist spiraled outward, enveloping her blade in an ethereal glow, and she advanced with a series of fluid strikes, each one calculated to overwhelm.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. This wasn't something I could counter with my usual movements. Seraphina had tapped into her full potential, and the sheer mastery of her art was undeniable. But I wasn't about to let her have this victory.
If she wanted to use her most powerful movement, then so would I.
Light mana coursed through me, converging at the tip of my blade. I shifted my stance, God Flash surging to life within me. It wasn't the perfected Singularity, but I didn't need it. What I had now would be enough.
"Let's see how far you've come, Sera," I murmured.
With a single step, I disappeared.
The world blurred as I shot forward, a streak of blinding light tearing through her violet mist. My God Flash cut through the haze like a comet, disrupting the flow of her art. Her movements faltered for the briefest moment as I appeared behind her, my blade poised to strike.
She spun around, her eyes wide, her blade moving instinctively to parry my attack. The clash of our swords sent a shockwave rippling through the arena, the violet mist scattering in all directions. Her expression hardened as she pushed back, her blade dancing with renewed vigor.
But I had her now.
"You've improved so much," I said, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. "But you left yourself open."
Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped back, trying to regain her rhythm. I didn't let her.
Calling upon Mythic Transplant, I focused its power into my legs, propelling myself forward with a burst of speed. My sudden advance caught her off guard, her blade just a fraction too slow to counter. Her attempt to create distance only worked in my favor.
I stopped just short of her, feinting with a quick flick of my blade to her left. She moved to block, her focus entirely on the sword. And that was when I struck.
Transferring Mythic Transplant to my right arm, I clenched my fist and delivered a swift, precise punch to her midsection.
The impact was immediate. She staggered back, her grip on her blade faltering as she gasped for breath. I followed through, sweeping her legs with a well-placed kick that sent her sprawling to the ground. Her sword clattered away, leaving her defenseless.
The announcer's voice rang out, clear and decisive. "Winner: Arthur Nightingale!"
I stood over her for a moment, offering her my hand. Seraphina's gaze met mine, a mixture of frustration and begrudging respect flickering in her ice-blue eyes. She took my hand, and I pulled her to her feet.
"That was incredible," I said, my tone sincere. "You've come so far, Sera. You should be proud."
She huffed, brushing herself off. "Don't think I'll let you win so easily next time."
"I'd be disappointed if you did," I replied with a grin.
As we left the stage, the cheers of the crowd echoing around us, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Seraphina had pushed me harder than anyone else so far, and I knew she wasn't done growing. But today, at least, the victory was mine.
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Seraphina let out a long sigh as she stepped into her room, the soft click of the door shutting behind her barely audible over her own thoughts. She sank into the nearest chair, her sword resting beside her, and ran a hand through her silver hair. The duel replayed in her mind, each exchange etched vividly into her memory.
The gap between them—it was still so wide.
She had known Arthur was stronger. It was an undeniable truth, one she had accepted long before stepping onto the stage. His feats spoke louder than any reassurance she might try to give herself. The man had faced and subdued an Immortal-rank threat, an achievement that transcended even the highest expectations.
But knowing and feeling were two different things.
Even if Arthur had been at the same mana rank as her, Seraphina knew she would still lose. His skill, his sheer mastery over astral energy and martial arts, would see to that. The fact that he was a full mana level higher only solidified the chasm between them—a gap in mana capacity and output that no amount of grit or cleverness could fully bridge.
"I thought I could at least make him use his third movement," she muttered, leaning back in her chair with a resigned sigh.
Cecilia had told her and Rachel about Stellar Cascade, Arthur's third movement. The way she had described it had made Seraphina's blood run cold. Cecilia didn't embellish—she didn't need to. The raw awe in her voice as she spoke of the technique had been enough to paint a picture. Ridiculous, Cecilia had called it, and Seraphina couldn't argue.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as her Sword Heart pulsed faintly in her chest. She closed her eyes, drawing a deep, steadying breath. When she opened them again, the faint flicker of frustration had given way to quiet resolve.
'Far.'
That single word echoed in her mind. The next mana rank, Immortal-rank, felt like a distant horizon. No amount of innate talent or the mind metamorphosis she owed to Arthur would change that. It would take years, even with her gifts and unwavering dedication.
But she would get there.
Her gaze drifted to the small TV mounted on the wall. She picked up the remote and turned it on, the screen flickering to life as the announcer's voice filled the room.
"It's time for the highly anticipated match—Ren Kagu versus Lucifer Windward!"
Seraphina didn't bother leaving her room to watch it in person. She had little interest in the throngs of students and their loud chatter. Here, alone, she could focus.
Ren and Lucifer. A clash of titans in their own right.
Seraphina knew how the fight would end. Lucifer would win. Of that, she was certain. But it wouldn't be easy, not against someone like Ren. Even now, as she watched the two of them step onto the stage, she could feel the tension through the screen. The air around them seemed charged, both combatants radiating power in their unique ways.
She tapped her fingers against the armrest, her thoughts drifting.
In terms of relative strength, Seraphina knew she was slightly beyond Ren. Her Gift and unique affinity with ice mana gave her an edge. But Lucifer—Lucifer was different. He stood above her in a way Ren didn't. His power was tangible, overwhelming, and utterly dominant.
Even now, with all the growth she had undergone, she couldn't imagine defeating him. It wasn't that he was invincible. It was simply that the scale tipped so heavily in his favor that the notion of victory felt like grasping at smoke.
And yet, something had shifted.
When she had first entered the Academy, Lucifer had seemed untouchable, a figure cloaked in absolute strength and surrounded by an aura of inevitability. He was the pinnacle of power, an unscalable peak. But now? Now, that peak seemed closer. Within view, if not reach. The gap between them still existed, but it no longer felt insurmountable.
She settled into her chair, her gaze fixed on the screen as the announcer called for the match to begin.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone