The crowd's noise began to fade as the emissary's voice echoed across the arena.

"Now, for the next match!" he announced, his tone carrying through the wind. "Celia, step to the back of the arena. And your opponent, Varian!"

Celia's eyes lit up instantly. "Finally," she said, standing with a smirk.

"Looks like you got your wish," Nolan said, leaning back in his seat. "Remember what I told you, stay focused, and use your flame when the time comes."

"Got it, Master," Celia replied. She adjusted her gloves and tightened her boots before heading down the stairs, her confidence radiating with every step.

The crowd began to chant her name as she walked toward the arena's back entrance. Opposite her, a tall man with silver hair and twin daggers strapped to his waist, Varian, was already waiting, a sly grin on his face.

"This is going to be fun," he said, spinning one of his daggers.

Celia stopped a few feet away, her golden eyes narrowing. "For me, maybe."

The emissary raised his hand, and the gates began to slide open. The sunlight poured in, glinting off the steel weapons and the dust swirling in the air.

"Step into the arena!" the emissary declared.

Celia walked forward, her flames flickering faintly around her wrists. The crowd erupted. The next battle had begun.

Varian also walked into the arena, and he and Celia locked eyes. He held a dagger, and Celia gripped her sword, white phoenix flames flickering along its blade. The emissary signaled the start, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Celia surged forward, her hand glowing with a crest as the white flame engulfed her sword. Varian grinned, moving with surprising speed, aiming his dagger for her first blind spot. Celia reacted instantly, bending her sword to block, forcing him into defense. The strike pushed him back.

"Such scary strength from a pretty lady like you," Varian sneered. "I don't like demi-humans. They disgust me."

"Well, I'll say the same for you," Celia shot back, her eyes cold. "The grin on your face is ugly, and you look miserable."

"How dare a lowlife like a demi-human talk to me that way," Varian spat, charging with full force, slamming his daggers in a relentless flurry.

Celia twisted her sword, bending it to block each incoming strike, her movements fluid and precise. She aimed a slash at his stomach, but he raised a dagger to block. Another dagger shot toward her neck, and she raised her left hand without her sword to intercept it, simultaneously driving a knee into his midsection. Both staggered back, giving each other space.

The crowd held its breath. Two warriors, lightning fast, measuring, probing, and striking, each attack and block escalating the tension, every movement amplified by the white phoenix flames trailing Celia's sword.

Celia's eyes narrowed as the phoenix flames along her sword flickered brighter, responding to her determination. Varian grinned, wiping a trace of blood from his lip. "You think fire will stop me?" he taunted, lunging again, daggers spinning in a deadly arc.

Celia pivoted on her heel, letting the flames guide her movement. With a swift step forward, she swung her sword in a crescent, the white fire leaving a blazing trail. The flames cut through the air, forcing Varian to leap back, narrowly avoiding being slashed across the chest.

"Too slow," Celia muttered under her breath. She infused more of her mana into the sword, and the phoenix crest on her hand flared, casting a blinding glow across the arena. Every step she took left scorched imprints on the sand, and the air around her crackled with energy.

Varian growled, charging with reckless speed, aiming both daggers at her midsection. Celia timed her movements perfectly, slashing diagonally while pivoting. The phoenix flames wrapped around her sword like a serpent, deflecting one dagger and sending the other ricocheting into the ground, leaving a small crater.

"Impossible!" Varian yelled, staggering back. His dagger glinted in the sunlight, but he hesitated, wary of the overwhelming aura Celia now exuded.

Celia's gaze hardened. "This ends now." She leaped high, flames trailing behind her like a comet, and brought her sword down in a vertical strike. The sheer force created a shockwave, blowing sand across the arena and forcing Varian to block with both daggers. The impact sent him skidding back, his dagger tips bent, his grip faltering.

The crowd erupted, sensing the shift. Celia didn't pause. She extended her left hand, drawing more mana from within herself, and the phoenix crest on her palm burned like the heart of a star. Her next strike wasn't just a swing. It was a concentrated blast of flame guided by the sword, striking toward Varian like a living weapon.

Varian tried to evade, but the combined force of her skill, speed, and flames was too precise. The attack caught his side, throwing him to the ground with a grunt of pain. Smoke and fire swirled around the arena, marking the devastating power of Celia's assault.

She landed gracefully, white flames fading but leaving her aura charged. Varian struggled to rise, glaring up at her, realizing he had underestimated not just her strength, but the combination of her swordplay and her phoenix flame.

Celia's voice rang out, calm but deadly. "I told you, no one underestimates me."

"Wow, Celia's gotten so much stronger. I didn't expect this," Nolan said, watching intently.

"Yes, Master. She's faster now, and her strength is insane," Linda added, eyes wide.

"They're both skilled, but this one's obvious. Celia's going to win," Nolan said, folding his arms as the crowd roared.

On the sand, Varian struggled to rise. Blood slicked his lips, but he forced a smile. He produced a tiny vial from somewhere, a compact healing potion, and shoved it into his mouth. He swallowed it in a single, desperate gulp. The potion worked fast. Torn flesh seamed, broken ribs knit, and his breathing steadied as the bleeding slowed.

Celia's eyes narrowed. "You bastard, that's illegal. You're not allowed to bring healing potions into the arena. I'll report you when I'm done!" she snapped.

Varian's grin hardened. "You'll do nothing. Even if you beat me, I'll make sure you can't speak." He pushed himself to his feet, dagger leveled.

Celia lifted her sword to meet him. They collided again, blade against dagger, trading strike after strike. Celia's phoenix flame traced each parry, her movements precise and brutal. Varian answered with furious, stabbing slashes, but Celia blocked and countered cleanly, forcing him back step by step.

The crowd roared with every impact. Sand sprayed, sparks flew where metal met enchanted steel, and the two fighters blurred into a whirlwind of motion. Celia was driven by righteous fury, Varian desperate and dangerous.

"You called me a lowlife, but you still aren't capable of defeating me," Celia said, eyes blazing.

"Shut up, you bitch!" Varian snarled, lunging at her again.

He jumped back, barefooted, his knickers folded oddly as he ran once more toward Celia. She positioned her sword perfectly, blocking his strike. But Varian's next move was unexpected: he raised his leg for a kick. Celia lifted her arm to block it—but he shifted, covering his leg with some technique.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, yanking her arm away just in time. But before she could react further, fire ignited along his leg as he slammed a blazing kick into her face.

Celia staggered back but quickly regained her stance. White phoenix flames leapt along her sword as she swung toward him, rushing forward. Varian attempted another kick, but Celia anticipated it. In a swift, brutal counter, she severed one of his legs.

Varian froze, staring in disbelief at his missing limb. "My leg… my leg! Pain! Pain! Pain!" he screamed, clutching at the stump.

Celia steadied herself, shaking off the last of her spite. She raised her flaming sword toward his neck. "I give up," Varian gasped, collapsing to the ground.

"The winner is Celia!" the emissary announced, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Two healers rushed in, carefully carrying Varian's severed leg. With swift, practiced hands, they reattached it, mending bones and sinews as the arena watched in awe.

Celia turned and walked out, victory and determination radiating from her every step.

"Wow, that was a truly outstanding match. Celia won! I thought Varian had a chance, considering he was one of the top fighters last week," the emissary said, his voice carrying across the arena.

Meanwhile, Nolan made his way through the crowd as Celia approached. "Master, I'm back," she said, sliding into the seat beside him. "We actually did well, didn't we?"

"Please, give me your hand," Nolan said, gently taking her hand in his. A soft green glow spread from his touch, healing every bruise and broken bone in her body. Her cheeks flushed pink at the closeness.

"Are you okay now? Does it still hurt?" Nolan asked, concern in his eyes. "I saw when he kicked you—it must have hurt. I'm… I'm actually sorry."

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