The arena no longer trembled.
It held its breath.
Milim Stigner and Douriel Kinés stood facing each other, separated by only a few meters. No shouts. No provocation. Their silence weighed heavier than all the previous battles combined.
Mini-Zenkai floated in the stands, sitting cross-legged in midair, a juice box in hand.
"Ah… finally an interesting fight," he muttered, slurping loudly.
"Two mid-chain existences. Not monsters yet… but no longer human either."
The referee raised his hand.
"Final of the inter-class tournament… begin."
The Frozen Moment
No one moved.
One second passed.
Then two.
The spectators began to feel something strange.
The air around Milim felt slightly heavier.
Not oppressive.
Present.
Douriel was the first to react.
He took a step.
Then another.
His body slipped into a precise rhythm—almost mathematical. Every muscle aligned, every joint adjusted, as if his body were recalculating in real time the optimal way to exist in this space.
She's influencing the terrain…
No. She's influencing the decision.
Douriel struck.
A clean, direct blow, with no visible mana.
Milim raised her hand.
The strike stopped a few centimeters from her palm.
Not blocked.
Rejected.
The air bent subtly around her gesture, as if the trajectory itself had been judged… inappropriate.
"…Interesting," Douriel breathed.
The Rise of Laws
Douriel immediately changed approach.
His attacks multiplied, coming from several angles—some even slightly out of sync with time. A few strikes seemed to arrive before he had fully launched them.
Milim stepped back.
Then again.
One blow grazed her side—the invisible barrier faltered for an instant.
She's not nullifying… Douriel realized.
She's prioritizing.
Milim stamped her foot against the ground.
The arena responded.
Not with an explosion.
But with absolute stabilization.
The tiles stopped vibrating. Parasitic energy flows vanished. Even the residual enchantments from previous battles were crushed flat.
The field had entered jurisdiction.
Douriel felt it immediately.
His movements were still perfect…
But more expensive.
"Hah… so this is how you fight," he said with a grin.
"You make the world your ally."
"No," Milim replied calmly.
"I remind it who decides."
Art Versus Authority
Douriel closed his eyes for a fraction of a second.
When he opened them, his aura had changed.
Not stronger.
Denser.
An invisible circle seemed to form around him. Every step, every breath, every strike was now accompanied by a silent magical support—as if some ancient entity had begun paying attention to his movements.
He attacked.
This time, Milim was forced to block.
The impact shook the arena.
Spectators recoiled instinctively.
Douriel's blows became impossible to read. Each strike was perfect—corrected, amplified. Even when she blocked, Milim felt the impact adapting.
"He's progressing… mid-fight?"
"No…" an instructor whispered. "He's accessing."
Milim was hit.
Once.
Then a second time.
Blood ran down her chin.
Yet her gaze didn't change.
If anything—
It grew calmer.
The Invisible Crown
Milim inhaled slowly.
When she spoke, she didn't shout.
She declared.
"You are allowed to strike me."
Space froze for a fraction of a second.
Then—
"But not to bring me down."
Douriel felt a brutal resistance.
Not on his body.
On the outcome.
His strikes still landed—but none went any further. As if the final result itself had been quietly… removed from the list of possibilities.
"…Incredible," he breathed.
"You're not fighting to win. You're fighting to rule."
Milim advanced.
Each step reduced the available space.
Every movement Douriel made now demanded a disproportionate effort.
Their fists met one final time.
The impact imploded the air.
Then—
Silence.
The Choice
Douriel stepped back.
His breathing was steady.
His body intact.
But he understood.
If he continued… he might be able to force it.
But the price would be final.
He lowered his fist.
"I surrender."
A shock rippled through the stands.
Milim blinked.
"You could have kept fighting."
"Yes."
He gave a faint smile.
"But this fight… you'd already won it before it even began."
The referee raised his hand.
"Victory: Milim Stigner."
Douriel's Thought
As he left the arena, a quiet thought crossed his mind.
I can live with that…
Miss tsundere.
Mini-Zenkai drained his juice box.
"Yep."
"He let it pass."
Then he glanced toward Diopha—absent, deep in training.
"And the real mess…"
"…hasn't even started yet."
End of Chapter 14
Was Douriel's surrender weakness… or the sharpest form of wisdom? And when two laws clash, which one do you think truly defines the future?