Blackout Ascension: Return of Primordial Heir-Chapter 17: Dancing Water

The Infernal Colosseum transmuted once again, forcefully letting go of the water drained away. The jagged cracks on the pristine white platform sealed shut with a sharp groan of overlapping mud on cracks.

The Eid Pyres of wind around the outer perimeter of the white platform, became into more intense sharp cutting blades howling in a constant motion. To the veteran spectators watching, thinking this terrain is becoming more intense for wind. This was a clear sign that the incoming match would rely on inviolable movement, unbridled momentum, and flawless physical precision.

The grand announcer’s enhanced voice magically echoed across the arena.

"Third Match of the Infernal Bracket: Sirayan Veyr versus Lucy Smith!"

The subdued murmurs traversed the colosseum in a low-frequency ripple. The previous battle had been the same elementary clash, but this battle still contains intense pure technique howling in the wind.

Wind Spirit vs. Water Mastery. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

The East Gate cranked open.

From the Zephyros entrance stepped Sirayan Veyr, a young man widely known across the imperial expanse as the actual "Wind Spirit" of the Zephyros royal army.

He walked in like a gentle, calm breeze howling in a harvest-blighted orchard, his presence is like a sort of vernal gale. His movements are childish, and looked like an autumn leaf flying through the park.

Across the vast pristine white plain, the West Gate opened.

From the Pyrosend side entered Lucy Smith. She was an absolute opposite to Sirayan in every arcane and mundane avenue. She was armored lightly in overlapped plating painted a deep ocean-blue color, a design focused on perfect defense. In her right hand, she held a silvered partisan with a sharp tip shimmering brightly with incandescent blue water magic.

The two contrasting warriors slowly met in the dead center of the white stone platform.

Sirayan offered a smile of paternal serenity, his pale eyes beautifully kind and open. There was absolutely no killing intent or arrogance traced on his face.

"You have a calm aura, Lucy," Sirayan said gently, speaking with a calm voice, like breezy wind on the silent ocean, "the deep water suits you very well. It is incredibly deep and beautifully quiet."

Lucy returned a solicitous smile as her spear became a shimmering halo, spinning through a singular revolution that caught the light. "And you, Sirayan," she replied softly, "it seems exactly like a breeze that never stops dancing. It must make your soul very tired due to never having landed anywhere."

Sirayan’s pale eyes flashed with genuine, unfiltered excitement. He bowed down in the waist, gently extending an open hand same as if asking a noble partner for a dance at an aristocratic ball. "Then please, allow me to dance with you today."

High above them, the heavy bronze bell rang.

GONG!!

Sirayan instantly vanished from his spot.

It was advanced Wind Stepping. His physical body simply faded with a faint howl of wind wave remaining at the spot he was standing a second ago.

The crowd gasped in shock. "Where the hell is he?"

Lucy didn’t panic or look around frantically. She calmly closed her eyes for a tiny fraction of a second. She reached out and physically felt the invisible, changing moisture in the air all around her. She smoothly slid her front armored foot one inch backward. Blue water vigorously circled her right wrist, and she vehemently swung her silver partisan behind her own back without even bothering to look behind her. It was a flawless blind party.

CLANG!!

Sirayan appeared flashily out of thin air behind her back, his curved wind-blade striking ponderously against the unyielding shaft of her partisan.

He vanished again instantly.

Strike! Strike! Strike!

The two powerful forces clashed repeatedly in mid-air. Invisible gale wind strikes imperiously hit Lucy from three different directions simultaneously from her left side, her right side, and another from above her head.

She merely slid her weight. She blocked everything cleanly. Her silver partisan moved like a blur in the air. Thick droplets of water hardened expeditiously into small, dense shields floating around her exposed weak points.

PING! PING! PING!

Sirayan finally reappeared ten feet away, seemingly hovering right above the dark ground. He let out a generous laugh, echoed across the arena. "Most people panic when they can’t physically see the incoming attack," Sirayan said, tracing his finger on his left brow, wiping the beads of sweat.

Lucy slowly lowered her silver partisan slightly. "And most people fatally underestimate the value of silence," she countered with a faint smile tracing her cheeks.

Thick water roared and wrapped tightly around her leather boots, seeping deeply into the tiny cracks of the stone floor beneath her. The uneven terrain abruptly became smooth, actively creating a frictionless surface for her to slide on.

Sirayan stepped lightly again. He covered the geographical space and appeared behind her back in half a heartbeat, his flat palm cutting the air fiercely like a razor blade aimed at the back of her neck.

Same attacks won’t work. Lucky thought with a foxy smile.

Lucy sank into a subterranean crouch and her silver partisan hurled horizontally, aiming radically low to take his legs out.

Sirayan jumped very lightly, languidly spinning upward to avoid the dangerous sweep. As he actively spun in the air, he coercively released a massive burst of slicing wind in all directions at a time.

"Gale Blossom." The burst of razor wind blades rumbled.

Lucy galloping, rotated her partisan vertical sideways. She condensed the moisture and made the partisan tip shimmer with pressurized water. "Part the Sea."

She vigorously sliced upward. The concentrated water physically divided the wind slice cleanly in two creating a safe, narrow zone where she stood. The gale wind lucidly passed harmlessly on both sides of her.

Loud cheers came overwhelmingly through the crowded stands, along with applause. It was a prodigious spectacle of master control.

Lucy actively commenced the next intensive attack this time.

She rushed straight in, sliding across the wet stone. "Aqua Thrust."

It was a piercing straight strike, aimed percussively right at Sirayan’s unprotected chest. Sirayan calmly leaned his upper body back so flexibly that the sharp tip of the partisan cleanly passed just a single inch directly above his nose. He smiled happily seeing the world upside down.

He smoothly countered with a rapid, rotating kick aimed upward. "Cyclone Heel."

A vicious burst of intense compressed air hit Lucy with unerring rectitude in her armored shoulder. She staggered backward, the metal soles of her boots carving deep, long cuts entirely across the hard ground to slow her momentum. But she didn’t fall down. Dense water flowed up quickly at the back of her legs, reinforcing her balance back.

They both stood apart again, breathing steadily.

Sirayan’s eyes sparkled brightly with genuine, unfiltered admiration.

"You’re truly incredible," he openly admitted. "I honestly can’t find a single gap in your defense."

Lucy inhaled a calm breeze. "You’re genuinely beautiful to watch, Sirayan. Exactly like a leaf trapped in a raging storm."

Their words were meant to be mutual acknowledgment.

Hundreds of sharp wind blades incursively rained down from above like falling arrows.

Lucy overwhelmingly spun her silver partisan above her head and heavy water began swirling momentarily around her like a protective, rising tide.

Sirayan assiduously blinked in and out of her normal vision, seemingly teleporting through the air, voraciously attacking her from a dozen different, impossible angles.

Lucy adapted every single second. She lucidly turned her solid defense directly into a barrage of counterattacks without a single pause.

Block, strike. Dodge, thrust.

But then... Lucy’s dark pupils suddenly narrowed. She actively noticed something very strange.

Left. Right. Above. Behind. Left. Right. Above...

It was a specific pattern. Sirayan actively follows a perfect pattern rather than just attacking randomly. He was literally dancing gracefully, unchanging rhythm.

One, two, three, four, five, six... pause.

Every single seventh attack, he returned to a neutral stance for a tiny fraction of a second to actively reset his breathing.

It was a fatal opening. Lucy completely stopped moving forward. She stood perfectly still right in the center of the dark arena. She just waited.

Sirayan didn’t fully understand why she suddenly stopped. He honestly thought she was just exhausted. He circled her, moving faster and faster, preparing to deliver the ultimate finishing blow.

One. He struck from the left. Lucy was easily blocked.

Two. He struck pugnaciously from the right. Lucy smoothly parried.

Three. Four. Five. Six.

On the exact seventh step, his boot touched the earth to calm.

Lucy’s eyes snapped wide open. "Now."

She held her partisan tightly back and in an instant...

"Sapphire Piercer!" ...her spear rigidly thrust forward. It was a single strike of perfect timing.

The water gathered into the sharp tip of the partisan. It thrusted forward to pierce through Sirayan’s protective air shield at the exact moment it was off guard. It struck his chest right over his thudding heart.

THUD!

Sirayan was staggered rapidly backward through the air. He sprawled harrowingly across the arena floor until his back hit hard to the invisible barrier wall.

He finally landed on one knee. He rapidly gasped for breath, tightly clutching a hand to his bruising chest. The sheer impact had knocked the wind out of his lungs. For the very first time in the match, his calm, happy smile faded into genuine shock and disbelief.

He slowly looked up at Lucy, who stood calm and steady with her partisan tip pointing down sideways.

"You..." Sirayan wheezed. "You actually read my wind...?"

Lucy nodded her head sideways.

"No, Sirayan," she said softly, lowering her partisan. "The wild wind is always unpredictable. I absolutely didn’t read the wind."

She kept her empty hand resting gently on her own chest. "I simply read your heart rhythm."

The silence fell over the entire arena and surprisingly, Sirayan laughed. He offered an elegant, honest, truly joyful laughter. He shook his head, her fingers rubbing the grey dust and thin trace of blood on his cheek.

"You actually caught the heart beat of my own soul," he said, smiling. "That is simply amazing."

He stood up very slowly with struggle, and looked quietly at his shaking hands, then lifted his head up to look at Lucy. He calmly raised both of his hands up in accepting defeat.

"I cannot defeat you now," Sirayan announced, his voice enchanted with wind, carrying it to the crowd. "Not today. My rhythm is completely broken."

The bronze bell rang out, breaking the silence.

"The match concludes! Lucy Smith is the winner!"

The arena roared convolusively with loud cheers. Even the veteran wind-users sitting in the Zephyros section applauded loudly, impressed by the perfection of Lucy. It was a glorious victory of intelligence completely over raw speed.

Sirayan slowly approached Lucy.

"Please, never lose that perfect stillness, Lucy," he said respectfully, bowing his head. "It’s exactly what makes you so strong."

Lucy bowed with respect in return. "And please, never stop dancing, Sirayan," she whispered kindly. "It’s exactly what makes you so incredibly free."

High above, the scoreboard shifted its golden letters:

Winner: Lucy Smith: Pyrosend Kingdom

****

Up in the noble stands, Darth Clover observed Lucy with kindness and respect. He simply nodded his head like he was actively acknowledging a fellow, brilliant tactical fighter.

Sitting right next to him, Velanor Banner finally stood up. Velanor rattled his knuckles and groaned. An untamed beastly grin traced widely across his broad face. He rolled his thick neck, the bones audibly popping loudly.

"Finally," Velanor muttered, his eyes burning. "It is my turn."

****

Down below, Kairos watched quietly. He was actively seeing the hidden emotions silently guiding every single strike.

Lucy only won because she actually listened, Kairos thought to himself. Sirayan only lost because he tragically fell entirely into a pattern.

Princess Seyana smiled, shimmering, genuinely happy for the Pyrosend champion’s victory.

And Brandon...

He clearly saw that beautiful smile again. It was warm and genuine. The feeling deep inside him rigidly grew much sharper, exactly like a jagged knife named pure jealousy filling up the emptiness in his gut.

****

The Infernal Colosseum prepared itself for the next clash. The grand war of the tournament champions marched steadily forward, and the wildest, Kairos’ most violent friend was finally about to step right onto the grand stage.