Becoming the Wind
Chapter 28 - 27 Ice and Wrath

Chapter 28: Chapter 27 Ice and Wrath

A hush fell over the arena, as if time itself had paused. Only a gentle breeze whispered around Sylphia.

"Wo... WOW!" the commentator broke the silence. "What... what is this? One of the participants has entered the arena and stopped the match!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING, BITCH?!" Velissa yelled, her face flushed with fury.

The referee snapped to attention, eyes sharp on Sylphia. "Verin! What is the meaning of this? Aren’t you afraid of being eliminated?!"

Sylphia hopped down from the spear and bowed slowly toward the referee. "I apologize for this violation. I will—"

The referee raised his hand, interrupting calmly. "Not that. Look at my leg. Can you thaw it?"

Sylphia glanced at the referee’s frozen left leg, expression unmoved. "Oh, right. Sorry." She withdrew her spear.

In an instant, the ice freezing part of the arena receded, absorbed back into the spear as if it were the source all along.

Meanwhile, Velissa lowered her head, fists clenched, body trembling.

"...You barged in, disrupted my match... and now you’re ignoring me?!" she shouted. "I WILL KILL YOU!"

Sylphia merely glanced aside. Her voice cold. "Wait a moment."

She stepped forward to Yurelia, still lying down. Though weak, Yurelia’s eyes still shone with spirit.

"Rest now. It’s my turn," Sylphia whispered softly into her ear.

With fading strength, Yurelia managed a raspy: "Th...ank...you..." before her eyes closed.

The referee signaled to the medics. Yurelia was carried out for recovery.

"And the winner of the match—Velissa Arwyndel versus Yurelia Vellmarin—is... Velissa Arwyndel!"

Triumphant cheers erupted throughout the arena.

In the professors’ row, whispers spread. Sylphia—known to many as Verin—instantly became the center of attention.

"Is that... the protégé recommended by our genius professor?" Professor Rosalia leaned back, turning to Sirton.

Sirton chuckled. "Yes, that’s her."

Headmaster Hareth joined in. "Where did you find such a talented child? Haven’t you locked yourself in the lab all this time?"

"That’s a bit harsh, Headmaster," Sirton feigned wiping away tears. "But actually, I didn’t discover her—an old friend entrusted her to me."

Conversations continued among the professors. Some remained silent, observing silently, drawing their own conclusions.

Among the nobles, the commotion was no less dramatic. Those who had scorned commoners before now paid attention—though some disliked Sylphia even more.

Marquis Arwyndel tightened his grip on his chair until it cracked. "Hey, Avil. Aren’t you ashamed that your child was helped by a commoner?" he spoke calmly, but his anger was obvious.

"It’s been a while since you call me by my name," Count Vellmarin replied lightly, arms crossed in repose. "But my instinct says you’ll be more ashamed when your child is defeated by a commoner."

They exchanged icy glares, tension rising.

Then a firm voice cut through.

"Please calm down, gentlemen. The next match will begin shortly," Prince Caelsen said, eyes fixed on the arena as if sensing something else.

At least for now, Marquis Arwyndel and Count Vellmarin settled down.

Reyhan, still hovering by Sylphia’s side, was visibly shocked by his daughter’s actions.

Yet he remained supportive. He blew a soft breeze over Sylphia’s hair, making it drift beautifully and adding dramatic flair.

’Father?’ Sylphia thought inwardly.

"Yes, dear. Is the wind too weak?" Reyhan immediately strengthened his breeze, causing Sylphia’s hair to ripple gracefully.

’No, not that... could you tone it down a bit? The hair’s going into my mouth.’

"Ah, of course. Sorry." For some reason, Reyhan seemed to lose enthusiasm instantly.

Meanwhile, the referee cleared his throat. "Participant Verin... do you officially wish to challenge Velissa Arwyndel?"

Velissa answered first, confidence radiating. "Of course," she said sharply. "Just watch, you bitch. I will kill you here."

Sylphia lifted a finger to her lips. "Sssst... stop the nonsense. It just makes you sound scared."

"What... DID YOU SAY?" Velissa paused, then sneered. "Fine... let’s begin. I’ll kill you like I killed that trash you helped back in the cafeteria."

’Did she just say...?’ Reyhan’s blood boiled.

[She said she’d kill—]

’Don’t tell me! I heard it too! This... is bad. Sylphia?’

[....]

’System! Quick analysis! What’s the win probability for Sylphia vs Velissa?’

[Processing analysis...]

[Parameters: Spirit level, classification, tactics, fighting style...]

[Comparing results...]

[Victory chance—Sylphia Astheris: 100%] [Victory chance—Velissa Arwyndel: 0%]

Reyhan went silent. Whether by wind’s instinct or a father’s instinct, he knew a bloody ice storm would engulf the arena today.

"Darling..." Reyhan whispered softly.

’Don’t soothe me, Father...’ Sylphia’s reply came inwardly, tinged with sadness and tension.

Reyhan floated down and hugged Sylphia’s small frame from behind. His breeze enveloped her like an invisible embrace.

"Stay calm, dear. I’m here. Show no mercy... but don’t kill her."

"I promise, Father," Sylphia replied, eyes icy and determined.

She stepped to the center of the arena, staring unflinchingly at Velissa.

"Referee. Begin the match."

Suddenly, the air shifted—cool, then icy. Fine snowwhirl ed around the arena, reacting to Sylphia’s lifted spear.

A deadly aura emanated from her small body—sharp, dense, real. As if a general descended onto the battlefield. Impossible from a six‑year‑old.

Unconsciously, Velissa stepped back. Stood frozen. Sweat dripped from her temple. Her chest heaved. Her heart pounded uncontrollably.

This feeling... is familiar to anyone with life.

Fear.

’I... scared? Of a commoner? Impossible... it must be... an illusion. Yes... just my imagination...’ thought Velissa, trying to reason.

The referee, sensing Sylphia’s aura was no joke, hurried out of the arena to keep distance.

With a more urgent tone than before, he shouted:

"The match between Velissa Arwyndel... and Verin—"

"...begins!"

Velissa immediately took a step back and raised her hand high.

"Ghalmur!" she shouted.

Purple mist erupted from beneath the arena’s earth. A massive black toad spirit emerged—red eyes, venomous tongue lashing out, toxic scent radiating from its body.

But—

Sreett!!

An ice spear shot like lightning, striking Ghalmur in the gut before it could move.

BUZZK!

Ghalmur was sent soaring and exploded into a thick purple smoke that vanished instantly. A small shockwave swept away part of the mist in the arena.

Velissa coughed violently. Her mouth opened, blood spewed with saliva.

Spirit recoil. Ghalmur’s strike reflected back into her spirit, shredding her nerves and magical channels. The pain was excruciating—deep and piercing.

She dropped to her knees, hands trembling, body losing balance.

But Sylphia showed no mercy.

With light yet swift steps, she pierced the remaining mist and charged toward Velissa. Her expression was as calm as winter snow, her breath steady.

Mid-charge, Sylphia swung her right arm back.

"Glacivale, cancel."

The spear, previously lodged deep in the arena wall, dissipated into icy particles.

Then—

"Recall."

Sylphia slid along Velissa’s side, and bruukk! she summoned Glacivale back into her hands—without missing a beat. She twisted her body and struck Velissa’s back with the blunt side.

BAGGH!!

Velissa was hurled across the arena like a rag doll. She tumbled twice before landing face-down. A faint crack echoed—whether ribs or shoulder, no one knew.

Blood and saliva dripped from her mouth, staining the arena floor.

Velissa tried to stand. Legs shaking violently. She lifted her wounded face. Blood oozed from her lip, mixing with saliva and mucus, creating a pitiful image. Her eyes half-closed, one side swelling.

"T-tung... tunggu—"

Sylphia said nothing. She anchored Glacivale into the ground, then gently brought her right hand toward her fingers, aligning them.

The liquid flowing from Velissa’s mouth... froze instantly. From drip to crystal. Mucus spiked into icy shards. The frost locked Velissa’s lower jaw, forcing her mouth shut.

CRAkk!

A slight crystalline chime echoed as Velissa’s front teeth cracked.

With graceful precision, Sylphia hopped onto Glacivale, now embedded upright like an ice pillar.

Her small feet landed perfectly: one foot planted, the other bent in knee-flex.

Then she jumped.

A whirlwind of wind spun around her. Snow followed her ascent. Her blonde hair shimmered like starlight, and her silhouette danced in daylight.

She canceled the summoning again, and rematerialized Glacivale midair—precisely above Velissa.

Velissa, half-conscious, raised her arms reflexively to block.

"AAAAARGH!!"

The spear descended—but—

ZRAAAKK!!

Just before it hit her arms, Sylphia flipped the spear, transforming the blade into its blunt end.

BRUKKK!!!

Velissa’s arm bones snapped instantly. The sound was sharp and wet. Her arms fell limp like broken strings.

Velissa tried to scream... but her voice was stuck in her throat. Her eyes widened, lips trembling, body convulsing in intense shudders.

She writhed on the ground, rolling with fragmented breaths, unable to rise. Each gasp sounded like a drowning person gulping for air.

Before her, Sylphia stood still. Her brown eyes reverted to their natural color, staring coldly.

The crowd’s cheers vanished—lost to the chilling hush that enveloped the arena.