The forest had turned to ruin.
Trees were split, the ground carved into trenches of ice and lightning scars.
Whitney's golden aura flickered as she skidded backward, sweat streaking her temple. Bukanami descended through the fog, boots crunching against shattered frost. His dual blades—gold and black—crossed before him, both humming faintly.
Whitney's breath steadied, her eyes sharp. "Tch… you're good."
Bukanami didn't answer. He just raised his weapons and said quietly, "You're strong too. That's why I won't hold back."
She gave a bitter half-smile—no mockery, no banter. Only resolve. "Then don't."
They clashed.
The explosion of their collision scattered frost and flame across the trees. Whitney's copied blades gleamed as her Reflect card activated mid-swing, bouncing one of his slashes back at him. He caught it on instinct, blocking with the black machete.
The air warped under the sheer heat of their exchange.
Keel Kun's voice erupted through the stadium.
> "THIS IS INSANE!! Bukanami Ao is matching Whitney card for card! The Northern Kendo Dungeon's forest is practically GONE!"
The academy trainees from all four schoold and fans gathered from across the entire continent screamed through the speakers, waves of sound shaking the monitors.
Whitney ducked low, kicked off a rock, and spun—
Her copied golden blade slicing toward his ribs.
Bukanami twisted, letting the attack graze his coat. He slashed upward, both blades crossing like twin comets—
"Dual Fang Strike!"
Whitney barely crossed her weapons in time. The impact flung her backward, crashing her through an uprooted log.
She staggered, panting. Her cards flickered—the effects wearing off.
Bukanami landed in front of her, both swords leveled. "End of the line."
For a long moment, Whitney just glared at him.
No excuses.
No pleas.
Just pride.
"… You sure about that" she asked, deactivating her deck as the glow faded from her hands.,
Bukanami lowered his guard slightly, giving her a respectful nod before turning away.
---
Meanwhile...
Keel Kun shouted from the stadium:
"And that's it! BUKANAMI AO takes the win against Whitney Rivers in a brutal, card-breaking brawl!"
The audience went wild. Several Four Stars Academy trainees cheered wildly as they got their win.
---
Meanwhile—
Ice swallowed half the forest.
Not spread—claimed.
A pale-blue dome expanded outward, freezing fog, bark, air itself into a silent tundra. Snow did not fall; it hung, suspended, every flake perfectly still as if time itself had slowed.
At the center stood Arizel Frost.
His breath no longer fogged.
The cold obeyed him.
"Ice Domain," he said calmly, voice layered, resonant.
"Throne of the Frost Monarch."
The ground buckled.
Jagged spires erupted upward in a circular formation, locking the terrain into a throne-shaped amphitheater. Runes burned faintly beneath the ice, pulsing in rhythm with Arizel's heartbeat.
Itoyea slid back, boots carving lines through frozen earth. The pressure hit him instantly—movement resistance, directional drag, spatial distortion.
His fingers tightened around his sword.
"…So this is your ace."
Arizel raised one hand.
The ice responded.
Blades formed from the air itself—thin, translucent longswords orbiting him like a royal guard.
"Within my domain," Arizel said evenly, "ice replaces space. Distance, momentum, resistance—all of it is mine."
The swords shot forward.
Itoyea exploded into motion.
Steel rang as he deflected the first blade, ducked under the second, twisted through a third as it shattered inches from his face. His footwork tightened—compact, efficient, every step calculated.
Wind wrapped around his sword.
"Way of the Wind—2nd Form: Thunder Claps!"
He vanished.
The sonic crack split the domain as Itoyea reappeared behind Arizel, blade already descending—
—but the strike hit nothing.
Ice folded inward.
Arizel stood several meters away, unbothered.
"Teleportation," Arizel said. "Inside my domain, I rewrite vectors."
Itoyea smirked. "Good. Makes it interesting."
He raised his blade again.
"4th Form—Celestial Wind."
A cyclone detonated outward, compressed arcs of air shredding ice constructs into powder. The wind tore trenches through the domain floor, carving paths of freedom through the oppressive cold.
For the first time, Arizel stepped back.
Then he clenched his fist.
The domain retaliated.
Walls of ice slammed shut, reforming instantly. The cyclone collapsed, swallowed by frost that hardened mid-air. Chains of ice burst from the ground, snapping toward Itoyea's limbs.
Itoyea sliced them apart—but more replaced them.
Arizel lifted both arms.
"Domain Technique—Frozen Continuum."
The ice moved.
Not like terrain—like a living thing.
Platforms rose, rotated, inverted. Gravity skewed. Itoyea was forced airborne as the floor dropped away, then nearly impaled as spears formed where he was about to land.
He twisted, flipped, cut—his sword singing as he carved his own path through a hostile world.
---
Keel Kun's voice thundered through the stadium feed:
> "THIS ISN'T JUST A DOMAIN—IT'S A COMPLETE ENVIRONMENTAL TAKEOVER! ARIZEL IS CONTROLLING THE BATTLEFIELD ITSELF!"
---
Arizel extended his palm toward the sky.
The runes beneath the throne flared.
A massive silhouette began to rise behind him.
Ice cracked.
The domain trembled.
Itoyea landed hard, skidding backward, eyes narrowing.
"…You're kidding."
From the frozen throne emerged a colossal figure—
a Frost Giant, towering, crowned with jagged ice, eyes burning with glacial blue light.
In its hands formed a blade the size of a tower—
The Frost Sword.
"Behold," Arizel said quietly, almost reverently.
"The Frost Monarch."
The giant stepped forward.
The entire domain shook.
Itoyea lowered his stance, electricity beginning to crawl faintly along his blade, wind tightening around him.
A slow grin spread across his face.
"…Now that's more like it."
The Frost Monarch raised its sword.
Itoyea raised his own.
Wind screamed.
Lightning sparked.
Ice answered.
And the domain closed in.
.
.
.
Spiritual Energy (SE)
Spiritual Sea (SS)
Spiritual Signature (SST)