The arena's tension coiled like a spring wound to breaking, the parted red sea below undulating with the crowd's collective breath as the Keeper of Time and Fate's voice faded, her announcements sealing the matchups in fate's unyielding script. Aserenity and Solomon stood at opposite ends of the ring, the air between them thick with unspoken challenge—the leaf-draped paragon facing the void-shrouded heir, nature's serenity against oblivion's whisper.
Aserenity moved first—leaping forward with ethereal grace, her foliage-draped form blurring at the edges. Just before her feet touched the stone, her body unraveled: the leaves composing her scattered in a explosive burst, swirling outward in every direction like a gale tearing through an ancient grove. The leaves blanketing the arena floor responded in kind, rising in a chaotic uprising—hundreds, thousands lifting into the air, whipping into multiple vortexes that merged into a massive hurricane of rustling fury, reds, golds, and greens blending in a maelstrom that howled through the ring.
The spectators gasped as Solomon was engulfed in the storm, his temple-like figure unmoving amid the whirlwind—his meditative stance unbroken, eyes closed, mouth whispering arcane pleas to the void as if the chaos around him were mere illusion.
Within the scattered leaves, shadow-like figures flickered—ethereal silhouettes darting at the storm's edges, appearing and vanishing in multiple places at once, as if a legion of phantoms circled the eye of the hurricane.
"What are those beings running in the floating leaves?" Ezmelral whispered to Raiking, her eyes wide, transfixed by the swirling chaos.
Raiking's gaze remained steady on the ring. "They are all Aserenity."
"All of them?" she echoed, incredulous.
He nodded. "Her species is one with the leaves. In this state, every leaf is an extension of her—body, will, and essence fused into an endless swarm."
"I see," she murmured, just as—to the right of Solomon—a mass of leaves coalesced into a grasping hand, lunging toward him with vine-like fingers outstretched.
In response, one of the void portals orbiting Solomon stretched slightly, the rift widening like a maw yawning open. From within the inky darkness, a creature's mouth gaped—firing a beam of purple-black energy that lanced through the leaf-hand, shredding it in a burst of scattered foliage. The leaves dispersed like confetti in a gale, only to reconnect seamlessly with the hundreds swirling around, reforming in the maelstrom.
Then, to his upper left, the leaves gathered into a full-bodied silhouette, lunging forward with predatory speed—only to meet another void breath, the beam piercing its "stomach" in a spray of shredded green, the form scattering once more.
The assault intensified: lower right, a tendril-like arm whipping in; behind him, a clawing grasp emerging from the chaos; above, a descending strike like falling branches; in front, a direct charge. Each attack met the same fate—void portals stretching, monstrous maws unleashing beams that shredded the leafy constructs, the fragments rejoining the endless cyclone without pause.
Solomon remained the eye of the hurricane—unmoved, his whispers to the void unbroken—as Aserenity's forms multiplied, an relentless army born from nature's fury, pressing the attack from every angle in a symphony of rustling leaves and near-misses. The crowd held its breath, the ring a vortex of life and shadow, the outcome hanging on a knife's edge as the storm showed no sign of abating.
Ezmelral watched the maelstrom of leaves swirl relentlessly, her heart pounding as Aserenity's forms struck again and again, undeterred by the void beams that shredded swaths of foliage with each hit. "She's been struck so many times," she whispered to Raiking, her voice tight with awe and concern. "Yet she keeps attacking. In this state... is she immortal?"
Raiking shook his head, his crimson eyes fixed on the chaos below. "No. The leaves are one with her—she feels every shred, every burn. But her Cosmic Level body endures it, a vessel forged in the fires of the stars, the pinnacle of mortal strength and resilience in the Cosmos."
Ezmelral nodded, absorbing the weight of it, just as—suddenly—three ethereal figures coalesced above Solomon, each manifesting from the leaf storm like phantoms born from nature's wrath. They wielded clusters of leaves in their hands, sharpened and spun like deadly shurikens, then hurled all six in unison—a whirlwind of verdant blades slicing toward him from multiple angles.
Solomon's void portals reacted in a frenzy—mini rifts snapping open one by one, unleashing bursts of purple-black energy to intercept and obliterate the projectiles in flashes of disintegrating green. But one shuriken slipped through, grazing his cheek with a razor kiss, drawing a thin line of dark blood that dripped slowly, staining his white robes.
The leaf didn't fall harmlessly—it twisted mid-air, transforming into a grasping hand that lunged upward with vine-like fingers outstretched, aiming for his throat.
He had no time for a full Void Beam. His chanting shifted—syllables tumbling into a different rhythm—as he conjured a rift mere inches from his chest, the portal facing inward. From within, a spectral hand shot out, palm-first, striking him squarely against the sternum with deliberate precision. The impact launched him backward—not uncontrolled, but guided—his body sliding through the air in a smooth retreat.
But Aserenity's assault didn't relent. From the storm of nature still raging around him, several forms materialized as he drifted backward—each leaf-born strike swarming in from every direction like vengeful spirits. Every attack met its equal, each one torn apart by precise Void Beams that flared from the rifts orbiting him.
Then, after traveling backward at least thirty feet, Solomon realized the ground below was a deathtrap—littered with scattered leaves ready to reform—he summoned a void portal beneath his feet, tapping it subconsciously to launch himself upward. Another appeared above, then another—stepping stones through the ether, ascending him higher and higher, each phase dodging the encroaching storm until he broke free above the chaos.
High in the air, Solomon resumed his meditative stance, sitting atop a larger void portal that hovered like a dark throne. He raised one hand toward the swirling maelstrom below, his whispers intensifying. In response, hundreds of void portals bloomed across the sky—each one a yawning maw charging with ominous energy, purple-black beams visible within, building like coiled serpents ready to strike.
Then—fire. Barrages unleashed downward in a cataclysmic rain, lancing through the air like void-born meteors, shredding leaves in explosive bursts of shadow and green.
Aserenity's storm reacted instantly—the scattered leaves tightening formation, swirling and scattering in a desperate dance of survival. Each cluster darted away from the beams' paths, weaving through the onslaught with graceful defiance, reforming the storm as fast as it was torn apart.
Ezmelral watched, breath held, as the battle unfolded like a duel between chaos and precision. Then—something caught her eye.
Then, something caught her eye: Aserenity wasn't merely dodging. Along the paths she'd just traversed, leaves scattered outward like deliberate seeds sown in the wind, replenishing the arena floor while her ethereal form remained undiminished, as vibrant and whole as before.
To confirm her hunch, she turned to Raiking. "She's not just dodging, is she?"
Raiking arched a brow, a faint glint of approval in his crimson eyes. "Oh? You've noticed?"
"The leaves she's leaving behind," Ezmelral said, her voice quickening with insight. "They're preparing for some special attack—building up, like a storm gathering strength."
Raiking nodded, his gaze fixed on the whirlwind below. "Victory should only be declared when the victor stands tall—unbroken and unchallenged."
"Not to underestimate your opponent?" she ventured, piecing it together.
"Exactly," he replied, his tone carrying the weight of hard-won wisdom.
She hesitated, glancing back at the chaotic ballet. "Who do you think will win?"
Raiking didn't answer directly, his expression turning instructive. "Don't fixate on win or lose. Observe how each adapts—how they react to every shift, every feint. One day, you might face a long-range void wielder like Solomon, or an air-summoning vortex like Aserenity's storm. Learn from their choices, not just their triumphs."
"Yes, Master," she said, nodding resolutely, her focus sharpening as she leaned forward, absorbing every nuance of the battle with newfound intensity—the leaves' subtle patterns, the void's hungry rifts, each moment a lesson etched in motion and shadow.
Then, in the arena, answering Ezmelral's earlier suspicion of a counterattack, the leaves Aserenity had scattered along her evasive paths suddenly converged—rushing toward her in purposeful waves. She darted through the barrage to the arena's edges, gathering them with whirlwind speed, each fragment rejoining the storm like lost souls returning home.
When the last leaf met her call, the mass erupted—a colossal hand of interwoven greens bursting forth to meet a Void Beam head-on. Unlike before, when strikes had torn her forms apart, the giant limb held firm, scorched leaves shedding as fresh layers surged upward, mending in real time—a wall of living resilience.
From the hurricane, a second massive arm emerged, joining the first to shove back the dark beams, foliage fingers clawing at the void and forcing it inch by inch toward its source. A torso followed, broad and plated in layered greens, crowned by flaring leaves and eyes burning with nature's fury. Finally, titanic legs rooted into the ground, the earth trembling to her command.
The crowd erupted as a towering Aserenity loomed over the ring, her massive hands driving the void's light backward amid sparks and whirling wind—the air thick with the scent of scorched leaves and ionized shadow.
Solomon, unflinching in his meditative perch, retracted the beams in a sudden pull—the dark lances snapping back into their portals like recoiling serpents. The rifts behind him began to merge, one by one, swirling together in a vortex of inky blackness until a single, enormous portal yawned open—a gateway to abyss itself. Within its depths, a colossal eyelid stirred, peeling back slowly to reveal a gleaming, malevolent eye—its pupil a swirling void that seemed to devour light, promising untold horrors as it fixed on the giant below.