Becoming the Wind
Chapter 25 - 24 Velissa vs Yurelia

Chapter 25: Chapter 24 Velissa vs Yurelia

Azha wiped the scratch on his cheek, his fingers trembling as he saw blood staining his skin.

"You... were you never taught manners...?" he said, voice shaking—trying to sound angry, though it came off more like a whining child.

But Yurelia gave no room for petty complaints.

Calmly, she stepped forward half a pace. Left foot in front, right foot behind. Both hands gripped her sword hilt, pulling it up to shoulder level. Her sharp eyes stared directly—her blade’s tip aimed straight at Azha’s nose.

"If you still want to keep talking, I’ll give you more wounds to lecture me with," she said softly, with a sweet smile that felt like a knife to the throat.

Azha stepped back, holding his breath. "W-Wait! At least let me take some distance. This is too close."

Yurelia sighed and lowered her stance. "Go ahead."

Azha quickly backed away, trying to appear composed though his steps nearly stumbled.

Once he reached what he considered a safe distance, he raised a hand and declared, "Come forth, my partner! Blazeen, Flame Spirit of the Young Warrior!"

From the air appeared a small fireball, the size of an apple. Its eyes were wide and stern, brows furrowed as if always angry. It had no mouth, only a blazing body with rotating flames surrounding it slowly.

"This is my spirit, Blazeen!" Azha said proudly, striking a pose.

Unfortunately, before he could continue his dramatic presentation like a stage actor, Yurelia had already resumed her attack stance.

Azha flinched. "Wait, I haven’t—"

Too late.

Blazeen immediately fired its opening move—Fire Bullets!

Three fiery orbs blazed through the air, aimed straight at Yurelia.

The crowd held their breath.

But Yurelia dashed forward. Her steps were light, body tilting left and right, evading the fireballs with effortless precision. No excessive motion. No panic. Just grace and instinct.

Azha panicked. "What the heck is this...?!"

"Blazeen! Fire Shield!"

Instantly, a curved wall of flame rose before him. A fiery orange shield two meters high shimmered in the air.

Yurelia paused briefly, evaluating. Then she smiled.

In one motion, she leapt—high as a full-grown adult. Her body spun midair, and she brought her sword down in a vertical slash.

SWOOSH!

—Fire Shield split apart.

The flames scattered like silk curtains cut clean in two.

Azha collapsed backward. His eyes wide. Breath ragged. Yurelia had landed in front of him. Her blade pointed at his throat, barely an inch away.

Silence.

The old referee, wearing a feathered cap, raised his hand high.

"Match over! Yurelia Vellmarin is declared the winner!"

The audience erupted in cheers. The roar echoed across the entire arena.

In the professors’ stands, Mirielle from the Department of Professional Spirits laughed until her eyes squinted.

"Hahaha! Finally! A talented student for my department!"

Professor Gerald of the Weapons Spirit Department shouted while raising his hand. "No way! That was clearly a swordfight! She belongs to me!"

"She used a professional spirit!" Mirielle retorted.

"But her fighting style was pure sword technique!"

"I claimed her first!"

The argument grew louder until Headmaster Hareth tapped his staff on the floor. The sharp sound silenced them.

"The exam isn’t over. Let the participants choose their department later. Save your claims for the closing ceremony."

Gerald and Mirielle exchanged glares. Still grumbling, but silent.

Meanwhile, in the noble seats...

Some heads of houses suppressed laughter, while others began writing Yurelia’s name into their recruitment lists.

But Count Drahven—Azha’s father—looked different.

Face red, lips trembling, hands clenched on his lap. Some other nobles teased him.

"Wow, your son lost to a girl. Her technique was splendid."

"Maybe it’s time you hired a new tutor, Drahven."

Count Drahven remained silent, head bowed.

Yet Prince Caelsen smiled at Count Vellmarin.

"Remarkable. A professional spirit defeating an elemental one. That’s a rare achievement. Congratulations, Count Alev. You’ve raised your daughter well."

Count Vellmarin replied calmly. "Thank you for your praise, Your Highness. But all credit goes to her own hard work."

Suddenly, Count Drahven stood up.

"Excuse me. I’ll be leaving now."

Prince Caelsen turned. "Count Drahven, where are you going?"

Drahven paused, turned slowly. His face stiff. "I... plan to make another child, Your Highness."

Silence.

Then Prince Caelsen chuckled. Moments later, laughter exploded from the noble section. Even some guards couldn’t help but smile.

Drahven bowed his head... and kept walking.

Reyhan, still floating and doing who-knows-what in his wind form, now folded over with invisible laughter.

"I thought she was paper—turns out she’s steel... Yurelia’s on fire," he muttered, snickering.

Beside him, Sylphia stared at the arena, mouth slightly open. Yeah, I didn’t expect that either, she thought. She sighed, though her lips curled slightly upward.

Suddenly, Reyhan narrowed his eyes, turning back to look at Yurelia standing tall in the center.

’Hey, System. Quick question. Did Yurelia already use her spirit skill? She didn’t say anything like Azha did.’

[Answering Host’s question.]

[Yurelia Vellmarin has been using the skill — Balanced Power — ever since she summoned her spirit. When a user’s synchronization with their spirit reaches a high enough level, they can activate skills without verbal incantations. Example: Sylphia.]

Reyhan nodded slowly. Then he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow at Sylphia.

"Wait a sec... Didn’t Sylphia say her skill out loud once?"

[Maybe... Host’s daughter wanted to look cool.]

Reyhan snorted with laughter, glancing at Sylphia trying to stay focused.

"Hehe... sounds about right," he whispered, grinning.

Meanwhile, Azha walked off the arena in defeat. A few participants couldn’t resist jeering:

"Hey, our champion’s back!"

"Said he was strong, but all he had was Blazeen..."

"His spirit’s only good for roasting bread!"

Azha halted. His face red—this time with fury.

He turned and yelled, "If you’re so tough... WHY DON’T YOU GO FIGHT HER?!"

Silence.

No one replied. Some who had laughed earlier now looked away. A thin breeze carried dust across the quiet arena.

At the highest row, Prince Daniel and four heirs from major noble houses remained still, watching.

The referee, still standing at the arena’s edge, glanced toward Yurelia who had yet to step down.

"Participant Yurelia Vellmarin... would you like to choose a second opponent, or end the match here?"

Yurelia looked toward him, then slowly sheathed her sword. The sound of her spirit vanishing rang like a chime.

"I’ll stay here," she said, turning to the other participants. "Anyone brave enough—come forward. I’ll face whoever dares."

A murmur rose from the crowd, but none stepped forward.

Silence once more.

From the line of contestants, Velissa Arwyndel glanced toward Sylphia, a small smile forming on her lips.

Verin... just watch, she thought. First, I’ll crush your friend. Then I’ll deal with you.

She raised her hand, voice sharp and clear.

"I will go."

All eyes turned to her.

In the noble stands, Marquis Arwyndel leaned back and spoke to Count Vellmarin beside him.

"Looks like... it’s our daughters this time, Count Vellmarin."

Count Vellmarin gave a quiet nod. "Yes... let’s hope the result isn’t the same as when we faced off."

Marquis Arwyndel clenched his left hand over his chest, suppressing irritation. "Let’s watch and see."

Velissa strode confidently to the center. She sized Yurelia up from head to toe.

"Be warned," she said. "I’m not the same as your last opponent."

Yurelia gave a small smile. "Oh? I didn’t know you were so caring."

Velissa scoffed but kept her composure. "Say whatever you want. But I’ll make you an offer."

She stepped forward. "Stay away from Verin... and you’ll lose without pain."

Yurelia’s smile vanished.

She drew her sword again. Valanther reappeared with a cold shimmer.

"You’re clearly not here to talk," Velissa muttered.

"Referee... let’s begin."

Yurelia smirked slightly. "Not at all."

Velissa raised her hand.

A dark violet aura erupted beneath her feet, forming a swirling spiral that pulsed across the arena floor. The air turned heavy. Space itself felt slightly warped.

Upon her shoulder appeared a massive toad.

Its skin was inky purple, like midnight ink on ancient scrolls. Its eyes burned black, with hypnotic spirals swirling endlessly within. Its skin undulated, unstable as if reality bent around it. Faint glowing patterns shimmered like arcane tattoos on its limbs and back.

Its tongue—long, smoky, and whip-like—drifted through the air, tasting fear itself.

"Ghalmur."

Mystic energy spread. The crowd murmured, many visibly unsettled.

Reyhan narrowed his eyes again.

"System. Compare Yurelia Vellmarin and Velissa Arwyndel’s win chances."

[Processing...]

[Parameters gathered: Spirit level, classification, tactics, combat style...]

[Beginning comparison...]

[Yurelia Vellmarin: 40%]

[Velissa Arwyndel: 60%]

Reyhan abruptly stopped floating, the winds around him stiffening. "Whoa... this one’s serious."