The arena exploded into chaos. Zoom shot forward like a streak of fire, the ground igniting in his wake. At the same time, the opposing scout's falcon dove, shrieking as its wings carved through the air with blades of compressed wind.

Aston's voice cut through the roar. "Mirage, hold altitude—Gray, intercept!"

The Glasswing Owl's wings shimmered, refracting light into a scattering of spectral mirrors. She twisted mid-air, releasing an Icy Gale that clashed against the falcon's wind blades in a burst of frost and lightning. Below, Gray met Zoom head-on, the obsidian tiger cub's claws sparking as they collided with the cheetah's burning fangs.

Steam hissed where they struck—fire and metal shrieking in perfect disharmony.

Marcellus's wolfhound thundered across the field to Aston's flank, slamming shoulder-first into the metallic gorilla that guarded Tristan's right. "Stay off his tail!" he barked, aura blazing.

"Copy that!" Aston replied, already shifting formation. "Selene—cover him!"

Her dove released a halo of golden light, mending shallow wounds on Marcellus's beast as they fought. Across the field, the enemy's enchantress'—Liora's—Runeshell Tortoise stamped its massive claws, runes blazing along its carapace.

"Rune Barrier—form up!" she shouted.

A shimmering wall of hexagonal light unfurled before Tristan's team, soaking much of the pressure from Mirage's frost-laced winds.

"They've layered enchantments!" Ivy yelled, frustration rising. "My boosts won't pierce that!"

Aston didn't blink. "Then don't. Target the tortoise's supports instead—runic amplification has limits."

Ivy frowned, then nodded, tracing glyphs midair. Her Rune Fox followed. Shatter Bloom—a burst of pale runes detonated near the tortoise's base, splintering the reinforcement web by degrees.

"Good," Aston said, eyes sharp. "Now Brennar—trap the midline. Focus the basilisk if it moves!"

"Already on it," Brennar replied, crouched beside his mechanical construct. Spirit lines traced from his gloves into the sand, activating proximity mines made from condensed spirit ore.

For a moment, Team Eleven held firm.

Every command, every reaction came fluidly—like a machine under Aston's quiet direction.

Tristan noticed. His grin widened. "Let's see how you handle chaos!"

He threw up a hand. "Zoom—Flame Orbs! Scylla—Hydro Laser!"

Three fiery orbs spun around the cheetah, their orbit blurring into streaks of molten red. The serpent reared back, throat glowing as it unleashed a lance of compressed water.

"Mirage—Fractured Halo!"

Frost sigils formed above the battlefield, spinning until they overlapped. The flaming orbs passed through the inner ring, slowing slightly—just enough for Gray to dash through the heat and slash one apart. It detonated harmlessly, scattering embers across the sand.

The second orb missed, diverted by an ice shard from Mirage's feathers. The third—Marcellus's wolfhound rammed through it, cloak of spirit armor dispersing the explosion.

Selene gasped, extending her hand. "Heal them now!"

The dove released another wave of light, repairing scorched fur and fractured aura threads.

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But Team Seven refused to relent.

The opposing alchemist's—Cassian's—Cinder-Bellied Basilisk slithered into position beside Zoom, orange glow radiating from its underbelly. It spat a glob of venom that burst into flame midair, forcing Mirage to bank sharply aside.

The blast melted the frost ring. "They're adapting," he murmured. "Mirage, reset altitude—don't let them pin you. Gray, left flank!"

The tiger cub moved like smoke, blurring under the basilisk's strike and raking across its side. The serpent recoiled, leaving behind a thin, bloodied groove.

"Too fast," Cassian hissed. "Reposition!"

Above, the falcon wheeled, trying to regain its aerial dominance, but Mirage's feathers turned razor-sharp with frost. One well-placed gust shattered its momentum, forcing it to retreat higher.

The field rippled with explosions, elemental clashes, and a dozen simultaneous techniques.

Neither side yielded.

From the stands, the crowd roared with every collision.

"Tristan's team is holding their ground!"

"No, look—Rhyner's coordination is cleaner! His commands are instant!"

"They're reading each other like they've fought for years!"

Even the instructors murmured in approval. It was rare to see two teams this synchronized at the first-year level—two leaders reading the flow of combat like veterans.

Tristan's eyes gleamed with that same recognition. His cheetah darted around Gray, claws skimming close, trying to bait the smaller beast into overcommitting.

But Gray didn't fall for it. Instead, he struck once, faintly, a flicker of motion too subtle to track. Sparks erupted where he'd landed a hit—so fine, it looked like nothing happened.

Then Zoom's left paw buckled slightly. A clean, surgical cut marked the fur.

Tristan's grin sharpened. "That again, huh? The invisible slashes. Interesting trick."

"Not a trick," Aston replied, voice low. "A warning."

Tristan laughed. "Then I'll take it seriously."

He pressed his fingers together, a signal to Liora. The Runeshell Tortoise slammed the ground, sending ripples of stone outward.

"Earthen Surge!"

Jagged spikes erupted under Aston's position, forcing him and Marcellus to dodge. Brennar's traps detonated in counterfire, sending shrapnel into the falcon's path, while Ivy's runes formed a secondary barrier to deflect debris.

For a fleeting moment, the entire field was a storm of motion—flame, frost, stone, water, and light all overlapping in dizzying succession.

Neither side gained ground.

Marcellus's wolfhound ripped into the Gearback Gorilla's shoulder, only to be slammed back by its mechanical fist. Mirage's ice and frost slowed the basilisk, but Scylla's watery haze dissolved her frost almost instantly. Selene's dove fought to keep up, glowing wings dimming as exhaustion set in.

Ten minutes passed, and the battlefield had become a wasteland of glowing trenches and scorched ice. Both teams were breathing hard, yet no one had fallen.

The arena roared as the referee hyped the crowd.

"Amazing!"

"They're evenly matched!"

"One defeat could tip the scales of battle!"

Aston swiped his sleeve across his brow.

Across the field, Tristan smirked back at him, breathing equally heavy.

Both leaders moved again—almost simultaneously.

"Mirage, above them—Icy Gale!"

"Zoom, chase the owl—Flame Orbs, triangle formation!"

The crowd rose to its feet as wind and fire clashed high above the arena, streaking the sky with trails of light. The two beasts blurred into streaks of opposing brilliance, circling each other like twin stars.

Below, the rest of their squads adjusted—countering, maneuvering, calling, casting. There was no chaos now—only rhythm. Both sides fighting like reflections, neither yielding an inch.

From the stands, an instructor exhaled, awed. "This isn't a brawl anymore. It's a war of commanders."

Down below, Aston's eyes locked with Tristan's across the storm.

Both smiled—acknowledging silently that this was the kind of battle neither of them would ever forget.

The ground cracked again as the referee's time sigil pulsed faintly—ten minutes gone, neither side ahead.

The finals had only just begun.

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