"It seems ordinary attacks have no effect on him," Hayama murmured softly.
His sharp eyes traced every subtle movement Caelendir made upon the crystal altar that reflected light from every direction.
No shadows.
No place to hide.
Only a lone human standing in the middle of an ocean of light.
The crimson scarf around his neck fluttered beneath the warm winds of the Colosseum, while his eyes never left the Prince of Light.
He drew a slow breath, calming the heartbeat that had begun to quicken. Then he reached into the pouch strapped to his knee and pulled out several small smoke bombs, pinching them between his fingers.
The moment Caelendir saw those objects, he paused slightly. Something changed in his eyes.
A primal instinct warned him that the next attack could no longer be underestimated.
"Mist Village Illusion," Hayama whispered coldly. Both hands moved behind his body as though preparing for something.
"Illusion? Is that even possible?" Caelendir muttered while straightening his posture.
Hayama hurled all eight white spheres at once. They scattered across various points before him.
Instantly, Caelendir spun his Elysiara sword once before shifting his grip toward the center of the blade.
The moment the spheres struck the altar floor, a storm of gray mist erupted and rolled across the entire arena like a morning sky robbed of its sun.
Phhff!
Caelendir coughed once. Yet his eyes remained fixed on Hayama's silhouette still standing within the smoke.
"A classic tactic, Human," Caelendir mocked. His feet planted firmly upon the altar floor.
His gaze followed the shadowy silhouette attempting to circle around him.
Then suddenly—
Swish!
Caelendir's eyes widened. His body reacted instantly as a sharp blade shot directly toward his face.
Ting!
The kunai was deflected by the tip of Elysiara and embedded itself into the marble floor.
Two.
Three.
More kunai flew from different directions around him, launched by an attacker whose form could not be seen.
Ting! Ting!
Seven kunai now lay scattered beneath his armored feet, some embedded in the ground, others split cleanly in half.
The tip of his sword moved in harmony with his body, trying to read—or perhaps capture—the Shinobi's movements.
"Blinding my sight, then throwing weapons guided only by instinct?" he analyzed inwardly.
His gaze still attempted to pierce through the slowly drifting smoke, as though even the wind itself refused to disperse it.
"This fog covers a wide enough radius. If I flee now, the sound of my armored boots will reveal my position."
Swish!
Another kunai shot from the left side. Strangely, every throw was unbelievably precise—always aimed straight for his face.
Caelendir tilted his head slightly to evade it, the blade barely slicing a strand of his golden hair.
"My vision is useless now."
He slowly closed his eyes, relying instead on his hearing to detect Hayama's footsteps.
His eyelids lowered gradually. But before they fully shut, the corner of his eye caught another shadow stretching beneath his feet—one that did not belong to him.
Caelendir's eyes snapped open wide. He instantly looked upward.
"Steel Rain!"
From within the swirling mist, hundreds of shuriken descended like a storm of iron nails. The roar of spinning metal tore through the air, raining down upon the place where Caelendir stood. Every blade reflected the altar's light before striking the ground.
Caelendir focused sharply. Elysiara began radiating blinding golden light.
"Sol Invictus!"
His first slash split through the fog like a curtain being torn apart. The second and third strikes formed spiraling waves of light.
In an instant, the entire storm of shuriken was blown away, exploding into tiny sparks before vanishing into the air.
Ting! Ting! Ting!
He deflected them without seeing, listening only to the friction of steel slicing through the air like a rhythm guiding his movements.
Second after second passed within the mist. Slowly, the clashing sounds of metal began to fade.
Not a single shuriken had touched his skin.
The entire audience held their breath as the fog gradually thinned. Soon, Caelendir's figure emerged standing amidst scattered metal debris beneath his feet.
Still standing.
Still shining.
"Prince Caelendir!"
"He survived the storm of weapons!"
Cheers erupted from the mythology faction, while disappointed sighs escaped from the human side.
"Enough," Caelendir muttered flatly. "I have no time to keep playing around."
A black shadow floated slowly between the cracks of light.
Caelendir looked upward, estimating the distance. His legs bent slightly, preparing to leap toward Hayama's trajectory.
"You won't be able to dodge while airborne."
But at that exact moment, a rapid scraping sound echoed from below—marble grinding against a human body.
Instinctively, Caelendir looked downward.
A dark silhouette was already sliding through the mist straight beneath him.
Caelendir's eyes widened. His arm swung instantly, thrusting his blade toward Hayama diving upward at terrifying speed.
Too late.
"Damn!"
BRACK!
A devastating kick slammed into his jaw. Caelendir's body was launched high into the air. Elysiara nearly slipped from his grasp before he tightened his hold.
Before he could regain balance, Hayama moved again.
From his wrist, he unleashed twisting steel wires that shot rapidly through the air, wrapping around the airborne Elf Prince.
The wires tightened instantly.
Caelendir attempted to cut them apart. Yet every time his sword moved, another strand tightened further.
Hayama pulled the final knot.
Caelendir's body became bound like an insect trapped within a spider's web.
Caelendir's fingers tensed.
His sword slipped from his grasp.
Hayama leapt upward to meet him in the air. His arms locked around Caelendir's body in a deadly grappling hold.
With all his strength, Hayama dragged him downward, diving like a black eagle seizing golden prey beneath the heavens.
Their speed was insane.
The wind shrieked violently, blowing Caelendir's hair backward.
"Abyssal Trench!"
Just inches before impact, Hayama released the hold and leapt away, leaving Caelendir alone to crash into the marble altar.
BOOOOM!
A monstrous explosion thundered through the arena, scattering the remaining mist as glowing dust filled the air.
The President rose from his throne, his face tense. Johan stared without blinking.
Hayama was thrown several meters away, though his landing was far safer than Caelendir's. He rose amid the lingering haze, breathing heavily.
He forced himself back to his feet, clutching his trembling left arm from the impact. Yet his sharp gaze remained fixed upon the cracked marble where the Prince of Light had crashed.
"It's over," he declared heavily, confidence resonating in his voice.
The human faction froze. No one dared make a sound after the explosion echoed among the crystal pillars.
"Grandfather... that technique..." whispered a young samurai seated in the front row. His voice trembled between awe and fear.
Beside him, an old samurai in a black kimono slowly opened the eyes he had kept closed until now.
His arms folded across his chest. His breathing long and heavy, as though calming something deep within himself.
"That technique... I thought I had forbidden it." He paused briefly, staring at the smoke slowly fading. "Yet he perfected it instead."
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, tinged with concern.
"That grappling technique forces its user to continuously restrain the opponent midair using tightening wire bindings. It's like delivering oneself directly to death's doorstep. If you had been late by even a fraction of a second, Hayama..."
He clenched his jaw, unable to continue the horrifying thought.
From her throne, Libra watched the arena with a composed expression. Yet her trembling eyes betrayed hidden shock.
"A technique that sacrifices the user's own body for even the slightest chance of victory? This human is truly reckless," she murmured softly, just loud enough for the wind to hear.
Meanwhile, The Ancient One narrowed his eyes.
His golden wings twitched faintly.
"A mortal human dares to go this far against a being of light," he muttered coldly.