Becoming the Wind
Chapter 26 - 25 Intense Battle

Chapter 26: Chapter 25 Intense Battle

"Ready... begin!"

Yurelia shot forward toward Velissa. Velissa took a few steps back, giving herself a brief moment to prepare something.

"Ghalmur —Area Illusion—"

Ghalmur, the large toad spirit perched on her shoulder, exhaled thick purple mist from its pores. The fog quickly spread throughout the entire arena, engulfing both Yurelia and Velissa in a dense vortex that rendered the spectators blind.

"Hey! I can’t see anything!" "Is this a visual test or a mystic fog exam?!" "I paid for VIP seats, not a guessing game!" "Are we watching a duel or a fog competition?!"

Seeing the small chaos, the academy promptly activated a special device. A mechanical eyeball with wings and iron legs flew into the mist. Moments later, a large projection screen appeared above the arena, displaying the scene inside the fog in clear detail.

Elsewhere, Sylphia watched intently. "Father, what is that?"

Reyhan didn’t answer right away. Internally, he asked the system. ’System, what skill was that just now?’

\[Analyzing skill...] \[Analysis complete.] \[Skill: Area Illusion — The spirit creates a thick fog covering the surrounding area (initial radius: 10 meters). Enemies inside will find it difficult to escape unless they injure the spirit user. Within the fog, the user can manipulate the target’s perception and create illusions indistinguishable from reality. No physical damage is dealt, but the pain feels completely real.]

Reyhan exhaled slowly, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"That’s the Area Illusion skill," he explained to Sylphia. "It’s full of illusions. No real wounds, but the pain... is just like the real thing."

"I see," Sylphia replied softly. "Yurelia can handle it... right, Father?"

Her face was expressionless, but her fingers clenched. Her fingertips trembled, and her legs fidgeted restlessly. Her worry was unmistakable.

Meanwhile, inside the fog—

Yurelia looked around. The world had transformed into a dead forest. The ground was covered in jagged, black stones. A nauseating stench surrounded her.

She quickly covered her nose. "Ugh... what is this..."

She tied the bottom of her uniform around her nose to lessen the awful smell. ’This must be an illusion,’ she thought, taking a deep breath. ’Calm down... stay focused.’

"Hey, are you just going to keep hiding, Velissa?" she shouted.

Velissa’s voice echoed from all directions, strong and clear. "No need to rush. We have plenty of time... and in that time, you’ll be my toy."

Yurelia spun around, trying to locate the voice—but it was futile.

She exhaled slowly, then sheathed her sword. Her right hand reached into her pouch and pulled out a golden star-shaped hairpin.

With calm movements, she tied her hair into a bun. "Alright... I’ll play with you."

"I’m glad to hear it," Velissa replied.

Ten versions of Velissa appeared around her. Five wielded swords, three carried bladed chains, and two aimed bows from a distance.

Yurelia didn’t speak. She immediately drew her sword and charged toward the sword-wielding Velissa in front of her.

However, two chain users on her left and right attacked immediately. The chains launched forward like spears.

Yurelia jumped, stepping on the first chain to leap higher, dodging the second attack.

At that moment, the archers released three arrows in quick succession. Still midair, Yurelia spun backward, deflecting the arrows one by one. She shattered some, but one arrow slipped through, nearly striking her eye.

Instinctively, Yurelia twisted downward, landing with her hand on the third chain. Her body rolled several times, then she redirected her momentum rightward, using her palm to halt the spin and springing to her feet.

She ran straight toward the sword user again. Her uniform was torn and her body covered in scratches from the sharp stones, but her spirit remained unshaken.

She slashed from the right. Her opponent blocked, raising their sword to guard the abdomen. In that instant, Yurelia reversed her grip, thrusting into the gap in the opponent’s arms. She grabbed the opponent’s leg, spun underneath, and rose behind them—slitting their throat in one fluid motion.

The Velissa clone vanished into the purple mist, along with her sword.

"One," Yurelia muttered softly.

Outside the arena, the audience, once unable to see anything due to the fog, now focused on the massive projection screen showing the battle through the flying eye device. The screen displayed the dark, dead forest inside Velissa’s illusion—every movement of Yurelia was crystal clear.

The crowd buzzed.

"Gods, what kind of place is that?!"

"That’s an illusion? Damn, I swear I can smell the stench from here."

"Are those rocks actually sharp?!"

A lower-ranked noblewoman covered her mouth with a fan. "Poor girl, her clothes are in tatters... but she still looks elegant. Like a ballerina in hell."

The professors squinted at the projection.

"This illusion... that spirit’s quality is no joke," murmured Mirielle.

Gerald nodded slightly. "And Yurelia isn’t losing ground. The way she reads the battlefield... that girl’s trained in real combat."

In the noble stands, Marquis Arwyndel held his breath as his daughter summoned ten clones. "You will see... true noble blood flows through Velissa."

Count Vellmarin said nothing, but his fingers interlocked more tightly.

Prince Caelsen touched his chin, eyes sharp. "Psychological pressure, a full-scale illusion, and attacks from all sides. Velissa prepared this from the start. Impressive."

Inside the thick purple fog, the battle turned brutal.

Yurelia stood, breathing heavily. Her body was covered in wounds. Her left arm was torn open—red muscle visible beneath her tattered uniform, scraped raw by the jagged rocks. Blood from her thigh flowed, soaking the side of her left leg.

Yet her gaze was still sharp. Her body still stood.

From left and right, two chain users dashed forward. The blades on their chains swung in wide arcs, producing an eerie sound—like bones snapping.

Yurelia crouched, held her breath, and darted between the two strikes. The edge of the blades nearly grazed her throat—a strand of her hair was sliced, floating gently in the air.

As she rose, two more arrows shot from behind.

Without thinking, Yurelia reflexively spun her sword, blocking both arrows with its blunt edge. Simultaneously, she reached into her right boot and pulled a small knife with her left hand.

Before she could act further, a sword user charged at her—swinging a vertical slash from above.

Still crouched, Yurelia raised her sword overhead, blocking the strike. Metal clashed, and sparks flew.

Focused, Yurelia hurled the knife in her left hand—it flew straight at the archer, embedding into their neck. The archer vanished into purple mist.

Without pause, Yurelia switched her sword to her left hand. She stood, spun around, and gripped the sword user’s neck with her right hand.

With one strong motion, she thrust her sword into their abdomen—right between the ribs. The sword user screamed, then dissolved into mist.

But—before she could catch her breath—three chains wrapped around her from behind.

Clang! Clang!

The chains bound her arms and legs. One blade pierced her thigh—deep this time. Blood gushed, her body slumped. The pain was real. It bit hard.

Panting heavily, Yurelia used the last of her leg strength—propelling her body upward. In one motion, she threw her sword high into the air and jumped.

The three chain users were lifted slightly by the sudden surge of force.

Yurelia grabbed her sword with her teeth, twisted mid-air, and spun like a mini-tornado, slicing through part of the chains. Her body crashed down hard, rolling several meters across the jagged stones.

The right side of her face slammed into sharp gravel—her skin split, and blood seeped from her temple.

With a soft groan, she rose—knees trembling, vision blurring.

Just as the chains were loosening, an arrow flew from the right, aiming straight for her head.

ZSWISH!

She ducked a split-second before impact—hot air brushing her hair tips. Then she ran forward, her left leg dragging.

Ahead—two sword users stood in her path. They slashed together from both sides in an X-formation—a deadly cross-cut.

Yurelia leapt backward, narrowly avoiding death. She drew her hairpin from her waist. With half-red eyes from exhaustion, she aimed and threw it at the archer—just as they drew their bow.

The hairpin pierced the archer’s eye.

Another clone vanished into mist.

Three sword users and three chain users remained.

Yurelia had no time to breathe. One sword user lunged, a direct thrust targeting her abdomen.

With her remaining strength, Yurelia dashed left, twisted right, and retaliated with an upward slash using both hands.

Her sword cleaved the attacker in two. But the motion reopened the wound on her thigh.

Blood sprayed. Yurelia staggered, recoiling.

Two sword users flanked her from left and right.

Her left leg could no longer sprint. Each step spilled blood, her bones nearly cracking.

A chain user hurled a blade—aiming at her right arm. Yurelia raised her sword and deflected it, but the impact dragged her back several steps.

Now she was gasping. Her sword trembled in her hands.

Sweat and blood dripped. Her breathing was ragged.

’Why... why is she still this strong... even though I activated Balanced Power from the beginning...?’

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