Zeff stretches out both arms.
“To make it fairer, I’ll set aside all my elemental orbs for now.”
Five elemental orbs of various colors float out from his hands. Among them is the arzechlous orb, the grand prize he won as champion of the battlemage competition. The five orbs gather together inside a glowing magic circle suspended in the air.
“Oh, very well then.” Vichel also extends her hand forward, and a soft yellow-green orb floats out.
“Wow, you’ve got a rare orb? I’ve never seen that color before,” Zeff says in awe.
Zoi and Yanzen, both artificers, are instantly intrigued by the unusual hue of Vichel’s orb.
“Yeah, no orb in that color has ever been sold on the market.”
Vichel smiles. “Of course not—this orb was a gift from His Grace, Duke Argeon Lurca.”
Jacelin’s father.
Jacelin’s smile widens. “My father found it while on patrol near the border. He stumbled upon a mysterious cave, and that orb was inside. But it refused to form a contract with him, so he brought it home—and it turned out the orb chose Vichel. Like it was fate.”
Yanzen’s eyes widen in awe. “An orb with a will of its own—that’s not just rare, that’s super rare! What kind of effect does it give?”
“Healing,” Vichel answers. “My wounds heal much faster, leaving no scars.”
“Whoa, that’s on the level of a passive skill granted only by the Gods,” Yanzen says, nearly moved to tears.
“Yes! With this orb, no matter how brutal the battle, I’ll never be left with scars!” Vichel declares proudly, her figure seeming to shine with sunlight blazing behind her, dazzling everyone’s eyes.
Except Zeff’s. “But you can still die, right?”
Dooom.
The radiant sunlight around Vichel vanishes into gloom.
“You’re such a killjoy!”
“If its only effect is healing, then you’d better make use of it—so you won’t regret accepting my challenge for a barehanded duel.”
“Just because you’ve got those muscles, you think you can crush me? That confidence is over the top.”
“On the contrary, your body looks fragile, like a cassava stalk. I’m worried one punch from me would shatter all your bones.”
“I wouldn’t have made it to the finals with a body as weak as a cassava stalk.”
“Luck only takes you so far.”
“My effort is strong enough to bring me luck!”
Vichel steps forward first to start the duel with Zeff. Her stride is swift and balanced, carrying both fists ready to strike her opponent.
“Whoa, it’s starting,” the spectators murmur as their attention sharpens on the fight.
Zeff stands his ground, steady in a firm stance, both hands raised to receive the attack.
Just as Vichel’s rapid steps close the distance, her opening strike turns out to be a double back-kick. Zeff is briefly surprised—her initial footwork and gestures had suggested a completely different attack.
“Impressive! She can switch up her attack pattern on the fly. But without proper buildup, an attack won’t carry its full power.”
Zeff instantly focuses strength into his arm muscles and—
Dash!
His arm blocks Vichel’s kick perfectly, without so much as a stagger.
The blonde girl is knocked back, but she lands with balance and swiftly launches into her second attack.
Vichel’s right fist shoots forward at high speed, nearly slamming into Zeff’s face—if not for the young man’s swift sidestep. Before Vichel can recover, Zeff quickly seizes her right arm, twisting it behind her back in an attempt to lock her down.
But Vichel instantly realizes his intent. Her legs spring upward, launching her into the air. With agile precision, she spins her body midair, slipping her arm free from Zeff’s grip. Her landing strike comes crashing down, aimed at Zeff’s back.
Zeff yanks his body aside just in time, rolling slightly across the ground to dodge. It’s not the cleanest escape, but it spares him from Vichel’s powerful kick.
The fight keeps the spectators on edge, their eyes locked on every movement.
“They both have solid martial arts foundations,” Zoi remarks in admiration.
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“They wouldn’t have reached the finals if they relied only on elemental power,” Bertan replies.
Vichel and Zeff hold their distance, preparing for the next moves.
“You tried to lock me down just now? You’d better focus on another strategy instead of wasting your energy.”
“Landing a direct hit on you would be the real waste of energy—the duel would be over instantly.”
Vichel narrows her eyes with a sharp, bitter glare, her patience thinning.
“Once again, underestimating me just because my body’s smaller than yours?”
“Can’t you learn to accept reality?”
Vichel charges forward again, this time with her emotions ignited.
A flurry of punches and kicks fly at high speed. She moves with sharp agility, her small frame giving her the lightness to leap and spin through the air, driving her attacks with precision.
So far, Zeff responds only with blocks and evasions, offering no counterattack. His eyes stay locked on her movements, studying every motion. His defense looks unshakable—he shows no sign of being overwhelmed by Vichel’s relentless assault.
"Zeff just keeps defending. Is he waiting for the right moment to strike back?" Jacelin wondered as she watched.
Bertan had a different take. "That could be it, but it also looks like he's studying Vichel’s movements—waiting for the perfect moment to land a single counterattack that could end the duel outright."
"Ah… that’s the terrifying part about Zeff," Jacelin muttered. "His ability to read and learn his opponent."
Studying Vichel’s movements, that is exactly what Zeff is doing.
“Her attacks are fast, but the pattern repeats—it’s because she keeps striking against someone who stays on defense.”
Vichel launches another double back-kick, her steps light yet strong.
“If I dodge by ducking and moving left, she’ll follow up with a right punch.”
His prediction is spot on—Vichel’s right fist shoots toward the spot where Zeff slips away from her kick.
“Now if I dodge to the right, her left punch will come from below.”
And just as expected, the next strike arrives—Vichel’s left fist swings upward, aimed right at Zeff’s head while he’s still half-crouched from dodging her earlier blow.
Zeff suddenly changes his step, shifting his body slightly backward. As Vichel’s left fist passes in front of his eyes, he instantly grabs her arm and hooks her left leg, making her stumble. With swift precision, Zeff also seizes her right hand.
Although Vichel doesn’t fall to the ground and still manages to support herself with her right leg, both her arms are now firmly locked behind her back. She is restrained.
“This is what you’ve been planning all along?!”
“I’d be seen as a monster if I crushed a small-bodied opponent like you with my fists.”
“Haah!” Vichel bursts out in anger, struggling with all her strength to break free.
“If you still refuse to give up, then just sleep peacefully.” Zeff looks as if he intends to make her pass out.
"RAAAAAAH!!"
Vichel’s scream grows louder, wrapped in overflowing fury. It’s as if a force deep within her keeps rising, swelling stronger and stronger.
Zeff is stunned as he feels the drastic surge of power—his grip struggling to hold her arms in place. Then, at the peak of Vichel’s furious scream, she finally tears both arms free from his tight restraint.
Zeff staggers back a little. Before the surprise fades from his face, Vichel suddenly grabs his collar with both hands and hurls the big young man forward with sheer force.
BRAK!
Zeff’s back slams hard against the artificer building wall. His eyes widen, straining against the pain while filled with disbelief.
The same shock flashes across Bertan, Zoi, and Yanzen’s faces—they are utterly stunned to see the small-bodied Vichel so easily throw the heavily built Zeff.
Meanwhile, Jacelin bursts out cheering,
“Yeah! Feel the true power of Vichel!”
That reaction naturally sparks the others’ curiosity about her.
“Jacelin, how come Vichel suddenly becomes that strong? She isn’t even using elemental power,” Yanzen asks.
Bertan and Zoi’s faces also show the same question. Jacelin looks a little troubled trying to answer.
“I don’t have a scientific explanation. What I know is that this great strength only appears when Vichel is angry—and it’s not elemental power.”
“You mean there’s some mysterious force hidden inside Vichel’s body?” Bertan concludes.
“Is it really that dramatic?” Jacelin herself looks confused.
Zeff rises again, his eyes sharp on Vichel.
“You’re not hiding another orb inside your body, are you? That kind of strength clearly doesn’t match your size.”
Vichel answers with a defiant gesture.
“You know how to detect orbs inside someone, right? Go ahead and check for yourself. Meanwhile, I’ll keep beating you up for always underestimating me.”
“I only said what I saw. You’re mad over that? How old are you?”
Vichel’s fury roars even louder inside her. The blonde girl charges forward at full speed to attack. Zeff quickly braces himself, planting a solid defensive stance.
Vichel’s strikes come at him—always fast, relentless, with no pause. Punches, followed immediately by kicks and other heavy blows.
In defense mode, Zeff feels just how drastically her strength has increased compared to before. His muscular frame begins to struggle under the pressure.
“Her physical power really has increased! What’s happening?!”
Fighting this girl always forces Zeff’s mind into complicated calculations.
“Still think I’m weak just because of my small body?!”
Vichel throws another powerful punch, fueled by overflowing rage. Zeff tries to block with both arms, but his guard collapses—the blow lands squarely on his face.
DASH!
Zeff is hurled backward, a trickle of blood flowing from his nose. His expression hardens with fury.
Vichel smiles in satisfaction at landing a punch on his face. But it isn’t enough to exhaust the storm of anger inside her. She presses on, launching another powerful strike.
Learning from experience, Zeff no longer tries to block. This time, he uses an open-palm strike to deflect and redirect Vichel’s attack.
“Never thought I’d have to use techniques meant for fighting opponents with larger builds.”
That’s the reality Zeff has to accept.
Zeff drives his elbow forward, aiming for Vichel’s stomach. But the girl takes a quick step back just in time and follows up with a powerful kick.
TAK!
Zeff counters with a kick of his own. Their legs clash in midair, the impact showing they are evenly matched in strength.
This time, Zeff takes the offensive, charging in with a sudden burst of aggression. Vichel is forced to stay razor-focused just to dodge each of his devastating strikes.
“You’re the one who pushed me into this!”
Zeff isn’t holding back—every punch and kick carries the full force of his physical strength, each blow packing destructive power. The young man isn’t exaggerating his words.
But Vichel shows not a trace of worry. Her focus is razor-sharp as she dodges and looks for an opening to counter Zeff’s assault.
“Regretting underestimating me, huh?!”
“Don’t cry if my fist really lands on your face!”
Zeff drives his strike straight toward Vichel’s face. The girl ducks swiftly and counters with a kick. Zeff dodges just as fast and follows up with a left hook. Vichel deflects it aside with her palm—only for Zeff’s right elbow to immediately come crashing in.
DASH!
His elbow slams hard into Vichel’s cheek.
