CHAPTER 74 — The Ice and the Obsession
The infirmary smelled of alcohol and cold metal.
Zayn sat on a wooden chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He didn't move. He stared at the floor, at the cracks in the tiles, at the shadows dancing under the white light.
Yojuro stood near the door, arms crossed, back against the wall. He said nothing. He wasn't looking at Zayn. He was looking at the door, as if waiting for someone to enter.
The silence was heavy, but not oppressive. It was the silence of two people who don't need to speak to understand each other.
The door opened.
A Paladin in a white coat entered. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, dark circles under her eyes, but a calm smile on her face.
"She'll make it."
Zayn looked up.
"What?"
"Cynthia. She's out of danger. The White Lady did remarkable work. She'll survive, but she'll need rest."
Zayn closed his eyes. He exhaled. A long breath, as if he had been holding it for hours.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me. It's my job."
She left.
Zayn sat still for a moment, then stood.
"She's okay."
"I know," said Yojuro.
"She's okay."
"You already said that."
Zayn smiled. Not a big smile. Just a small, tired, sincere one.
"I'm going to see her."
"Not now."
"Why?"
"Because the fight is starting."
Zayn looked at him.
"Blanche versus Enara."
Zayn turned toward the door. He could already hear the crowd's cries, distant, muffled by the infirmary walls.
"Let's go."
---
The arena was full.
The bleachers buzzed with murmurs and anticipation. The two fighters were already in place.
Blanche stood straight, arms crossed, her gaze icy. Her black uniform, impeccable, bore no trace of dust or sweat. She waited.
Enara, opposite her, smiled. Her violet scarf fluttered slightly in the wind. Her eyes — one blue, one green — were fixed on Blanche, but her mind was elsewhere.
"Are you ready?" asked Enara.
"I'm always ready."
"Even to lose?"
Blanche didn't answer.
The referee raised his hand.
"Begin."
---
Enara attacked first.
She didn't move. She looked at Blanche. Her gaze intensified.
The Weight of Gazes.
Blanche felt a pressure on her shoulders, on her neck, on her legs. As if the air had grown heavier, as if Enara's gaze was weighing down on her.
She didn't fall.
She raised her hand.
Frost burst forth. A thin layer of ice covered her fingers, then her arms, then the ground around her.
"You want to play with gazes?"
She breathed out.
Frost Dust.
A white cloud surged, spreading toward Enara. The cold bit the air. Spectators in the front rows shivered.
Enara stepped back. Her gaze broke. The pressure faded.
She smiled.
"Not bad."
She raised her hand. An image of herself appeared — an illusion, a double, standing beside her.
"But which one is real?"
Blanche didn't answer. She breathed out again.
The frost passed through the illusion. It dissolved.
"Yours."
Enara smiled wider.
"You're too serious, Blanche."
She attacked. Not with her gaze. Not with her illusions. With her fists.
She ran toward Blanche, fast, light. She struck. Blanche dodged, pivoted, struck back. A palm strike charged with frost.
Enara stepped back, short of breath.
"You're fast."
"You're slow."
Blanche attacked again.
She raised her hands. Frost surged, thicker, colder, forming a wave that rolled toward Enara.
Enara dove, rolled, narrowly dodged. The wave of ice crashed against the arena wall, covering it with a thin white layer.
She stood up, out of breath.
"I respect you, Blanche."
"I don't need your respect."
"I know. But I'm giving it anyway."
Blanche looked at her. She didn't answer.
She stepped forward.
One step. Then another. Then she raised her hand.
Frozen Breath.
The cold intensified. The air turned white. The droplets of water in the air froze, suspended like diamonds.
Enara tried to step back, but her legs wouldn't respond. Her eyes widened.
"What…"
"You can't move."
Blanche approached. She stopped in front of Enara, looking at her.
"You're strong, Enara. But you spend too much time looking at others."
"I…"
"Look at yourself, once."
She raised her hand, but didn't strike.
"That's enough."
She turned around.
The referee stepped forward.
"Blanche wins."
The crowd applauded.
Enara stood still, short of breath, eyes wide. She watched Blanche walk away.
"Why didn't you hit me?"
Blanche stopped. She didn't turn around.
"Because you're not my enemy."
She walked away.
Enara stood alone, trembling hands.
Zayn, in the bleachers, watched the scene. He said nothing.
Yojuro, beside him, murmured:
"She's stronger than she shows."
Zayn nodded.
"I know."
---