The skyfolk responded with a wave of cheers to Coren's challenge.
Ava seized the moment. She lifted upward, pulling Sedge with both arms. His strength hadn't returned—his body still limp in her grip. Coren could strike now and claim an easy third point for Dravon.
On Windmere's platform, Kael met Coren's gaze, accepting the challenge without a word.
He glanced back toward Captain Seris—a quiet ask for permission.
The captain gave a single nod.
The moment Ava and Sedge touched down on the platform, Kael launched.
Both fighters moved slowly toward the center, gliding with measured ease until only a few feet separated them—hovering, calm, poised.
"You're the Windmere ace, right?" Coren asked. "Kael Norrin."
Kael said nothing, eyes fixed, reading every shift in Coren's posture.
"Your team just got lucky earlier," Coren went on. "You don't even stand a chance against us."
He tilted his head slightly. "That's why I let your Aethermender go. I want a real fight. Think you can give me one?"
"Can we stop talking?" Kael said, trying to sound unfazed.
But he knew Coren, and there was truth behind the arrogance.
Coren laughed—short and amused.
"As you wish," he said.
In an instant, Coren closed the distance, unleashing a rapid barrage of punches and kicks, each one sharpened by Galegear bursts. Kael met the onslaught head-on, arms moving fast as he parried, dodged, weaving between strikes with sharp motion. Wind cracked around them with every clash, each movement sharp and sudden, like air splitting under pressure.
Coren's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. From what he'd seen in Kael's previous match, the boy hadn't been this fast.
But there he was, blocking, dodging, keeping up. The hours Kael had poured into training were paying off now, instincts guiding his movements just enough to hold the line.
Still, Coren was no stranger to real combat. He adjusted quickly, reading Kael's timing, finding the gaps.
A sudden feint, then a punch slipped through.
It struck Kael clean in the chest.
The impact sent him flying backward, breath knocked from his lungs. He tumbled through the air, disoriented—until, just a few feet from the net, his Galegear flared with a sharp burst, halting his fall in time.
Coren pressed the assault again, repeating the same rapid sequence of punches and kicks, testing Kael's reactions. Twice, then a third time, the rhythm identical, deliberate.
The moment Kael's guard slipped, Coren struck—another clean hit slipping through his defense.
Kael reeled, but Coren didn't follow through.
He simply hovered, watching—waiting to see if Kael would fall.
Not out of mercy, but control.
Like someone who already knew the outcome—just waiting for it to play out.
Kael's breaths came in short, ragged gaps now, each inhale tighter than the last. His flight faltered, movements slower—less precise. Every exchange left him more exposed.
He darted backward, putting distance between them, then raised his gauntlets and fired—burst after burst of compressed wind shot toward Coren in rapid succession.
But Coren barely shifted. He weaved through the attacks with effortless sidesteps, the blasts slicing past him without grazing.
"Are you sure you want to change the game to this?" he called out, voice laced with mockery.
Then he answered in kind.
A barrage of wind burst from Coren's gauntlets, each shot striking with brutal force. The Sky Arena echoed with sharp, concussive blasts. Wave after wave hammering through the open air.
Kael gritted his teeth, matching Coren blow for blow—but he could feel it.
His strength was slipping. Every burst drained more than the last. His arms trembled. His stance wavered.
Then he felt it—a sudden warmth surging behind him.
A familiar energy rushed through his limbs.
He glanced back.
Ava hovered just behind him, one hand extended, her other gripping her gear. Her expression was tight with focus.
"What's your plan?" she called.
"I can outmatch him," Kael said, between short breaths. "Just boost me."
"Don't be such a fool, Kael!" Ava snapped. "While you still have strength—go back and tap!"
"To whom? Ardyn?" Kael shouted back. "No. I can do this."
He surged forward again, renewed wind roaring from his gauntlets. But even as he pressed on, Coren adjusted.
One blast slipped through.
It struck Kael square in the chest—brutal and direct.
The impact knocked him backward—straight into Ava.
They both tumbled, bodies spinning in the open air, dropping fast toward the safety net below.
Ava's instincts kicked in. She reached under Kael's arms and locked her grip tight.
His body was limp, eyes closed, breath shallow. The hit had knocked him cold.
Gritting her teeth, Ava strained, dragging both their bodies upward—inch by inch. Her boots flared with wind as she fought gravity and Kael's weight, eyes never leaving Coren across the hollow.
But Coren didn't follow.
He just hovered there—watching. Silent.
Ava's heart slammed against her chest—Kael wasn't moving.
She pressed her ear close, panic rising. No heartbeat. No breath.
She inhaled sharply, then again—forcing herself to steady.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
But the energy was draining fast. Boosting him, lifting him—her reserves were nearly gone.
With a trembling hand, she angled her right palm over Kael's chest.
A soft glow surged from her Galegear.
Warm blue light spread across his chest, pooling over the bruised impact where Coren's strike had landed.
"Come on…" she whispered, voice close to his ear as she shifted their bodies sideways in the air, angling toward the platform.
The Windmere medics rushed to the edge, arms reaching.
"We're almost there," she murmured.
Then—a sharp gasp.
Kael's chest rose. His eyes snapped open, wild and dazed.
"Good, you're back."
Then a blast came.
Wind slammed into Ava's shoulder with brutal force, sending her spinning.
She cried out as she tumbled, crashing hard onto the platform just feet from the medics.
Kael's body reacted.
His Galegear flared. His boots caught the air. Strength surged into his limbs.
He looked toward Ava—crumpled, unmoving on the platform—then up at Coren.
"Kael, tap!" Ardyn shouted, arm outstretched.
But Kael didn't turn.
He launched.
The Dravon Cirran met him in midair, already bracing. Their bodies collided with a thunderous crash, fists flying.
Coren's strikes came fast, clean and practiced. Blow after blow slipped past Kael's guard, pummeling his sides, his ribs, his jaw.
But Kael didn't fall back.
He held in the air, absorbing the hits, pushing forward with sheer will.
The crowd erupted—the Sky Arena thundering with sound as the two brawled in brutal rhythm.
Kael's body screamed with every hit. His muscles burned. Blood filled his mouth.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
And then—one punch landed.
It wasn't precise. It wasn't perfect.
But it was enough.
Kael's fist crashed against Coren's jaw with a sickening crack.
Coren's head snapped sideways. His balance slipped.
For a heartbeat, he hung in the air—then began to fall.
Kael's breath caught. His strength finally left him.
He collapsed.
Both fighters dropped—two bodies spiraling through the air.
And then—
The signal blared.
Two flashes lit the sky.
Both had hit the net at exactly the same time.