Chapter 42: Frost against Flame!

Cecil took one step toward the arena centre. The blue‑white runes rippled faintly across the stone at his feet. Before he could steady himself, a drawn‑out, deliberately amplified voice echoed down from the third‑tier spectator platform.

"—You actually have the nerve."

Cecil did not need to turn to know who it was. Leon stood at the platform edge, arms folded across his chest, his Thunder Griffin crouching beside him with golden plumage slightly ruffled. A look somewhere between surprise and amusement played across Leon’s face. He held up one hand, thumb pointing upward, then flipped it downward — not pure mockery, but a taunt that said "Go ahead, I’m watching."

"Brave of you. Real brave." Leon repeated the words twice, each syllable dragged out on purpose, as if grinding the thought "I don’t believe in you" into fragments and spitting them out.

Cecil ignored him. He kept walking toward the arena centre. As his boot touched the edge of the spinning blue‑white runes, Freddy’s voice called from behind. "Cecil — stay safe." It was quieter than usual, no upward lilt at the end.

Lydia’s "Be careful" came almost at the same time. Further back, Oliver shouted, "Don’t push yourself too hard." Edwin said nothing, yet his Rust Beetle crawled from his collar onto his shoulder, both antennae pointed straight toward Cecil, as if delivering a silent warning on his behalf.

Vera leaned against a stone pillar, amber eyes fixed on him, her tone holding restrained sincerity. "Retreat if you cannot manage it. The trial grounds won’t kill you, but getting hurt is not worth it."

Lena stood beside her sister, clutching her book to her chest. Her multicoloured butterfly rested on the spine, opening and closing its wings once. She did not speak, yet her gaze held a silent plea for him to return unharmed.

Martha’s gruff voice cut through gaps in the crowd. "Don’t be reckless. Fall back if you cannot win. No one will laugh at you."

Cecil came to a stop in the arena centre. Blue‑white runes spread outward from under his feet, weaving a slowly rotating web across the dark‑grey bricks. He turned to face the onlookers, Gwendolyn perched on his shoulder, her tail flicking lightly against the edge of his collar.

"I’ll be fine," Cecil said, calm and steady. "Gwendolyn is with me."

As he finished speaking, he reached over with his right hand, lifted Gwendolyn off his shoulder and cupped her in his arms. She was small enough for one palm to hold her entire body. Her blue‑white scales felt cool and smooth against his skin.

Gwendolyn stiffened visibly the moment he grabbed her. She kicked her hind legs in his palm, tilted her head up and glared at him, her blue eyes screaming "Are you out of your mind."

"—Let me go!" Her voice was sharp despite its volume, undisguised irritation in every word. "Fight this yourself! I wanted to rest. Watching that lizard brawl was already exhausting enough —"

Cecil glanced down at her, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Didn’t you just say Emon would pull through?"

"I meant him! Not you!" Gwendolyn’s tail lashed hard between his fingers, yet she could not break free. "Fight your own battle. Don’t drag me into this —"

"But without your frost, I’m not confident."

"Then don’t go in!"

"Everyone is watching."

"Let them watch!"

Cecil drew her a little closer in his arms. Her fierce struggles softened into token wriggling, like a captured cat putting up one last token resistance. Her tail whipped against his wrist twice more, each strike weaker than the last, until it lay still across his skin.

"...Ugh, this is annoying," she muttered, her voice muffled against scales and fabric. "If you drop me, you’ll regret it."

Up on the platform, Leon watched the scene unfold, his expression freezing for a beat. His smile remained, yet it faded noticeably, as if witnessing something he had never anticipated. The Thunder Griffin rumbled low at his feet, golden eyes fixed on the man and lizard down in the arena, its tail swaying slowly behind it.

The blue‑white runes at the arena centre spun faster. A beam of light gathered in the shadowed vault overhead, like an eyelid slowly opening.

Cecil set Gwendolyn back onto his shoulder. Once settled, she lashed his nape with her tail — not gentle, yet not truly vicious, more like a "I’ll let you off this time" signal. Her blue eyes turned toward the forming beam of light in the centre, her tail lying flat.

"...You said you lacked confidence without frost," Gwendolyn said, her tone returning to its usual calm, though a faint tremor lingered from being carried. "I’m here now. Fight properly."

Cecil stood directly before the forming beam. His right hand hung at his side. Hidden beneath his robe, the first wisps of frost began to gather. The river of cold energy inside his chest quickened its flow, like a machine warming up and drawing its first breath.

The beam crashed down.

The instant it struck the stone, the air temperature surged sharply. The frost Cecil had just conjured at his fingertips met a wave of rolling heat head‑on. Frost mist vaporised into fine white steam with a hiss, much like ice sizzling under flame.

The silhouette taking shape within the beam was nothing like the previous foes. No reptile, no four‑legged beast. A crouched figure roughly half the height of a man, spine slightly hunched, tail curved behind its back. Its fur burned orange‑gilded, the colour of refined copper nearing melting point. Tiny sparks danced at the tips of every hair. Its forelimbs ended in dexterous fingers; faint near‑invisible flames flickered continuously from each fingertip, like five miniature candle wicks.

A monkey. A flame‑infused monkey with burnished golden‑red fur.

It crouched where the light faded, tilting its head and studying Cecil, amber pupils reflecting the dome’s blue‑white radiance. Then it moved. Powerful hind‑leg muscles coiled, launching its whole body. It somersaulted mid‑air and landed five paces to Cecil’s left. Its fingertips brushed the stone on impact, leaving three thin scorch marks.

"...Fire Monkey," Gwendolyn spoke rapidly from Cecil’s shoulder. "Its element directly counters yours. You can freeze it, yet it can burn straight through your ice. And it is far more agile than the Copper‑Jawed Lizard — look at its legs."

Cecil saw it. Its hind limbs were far more developed than its forelimbs, its ankle joints capable of extreme angles, letting it change direction without losing momentum. Its tail acted as a dynamic counterbalance, a gyroscope constantly adjusting its posture mid‑leap.

The Fire Monkey sprang again. This time it did not land far away, but lunged straight for Cecil’s face. A burning golden streak cut through the blue‑white light. Cecil dodged right, yet the monkey whipped its tail mid‑air to alter its trajectory. Spark‑wreathed claws grazed his sleeve. The fabric curled and blackened instantly.

"—It is adjusting its trajectory!" Gwendolyn’s voice sharpened.

Cecil scrambled back to create distance. Frost gathered in his right hand, and he hurled a compressed ice sphere toward where the monkey landed. High heat eroded part of the projectile mid‑flight, yet its core remained solid. The monkey tilted its head and dodged. The ice ball smashed against the stone behind it, bursting into white frost. The frost hissed and melted the second it touched the heated ground, leaving only a dark damp patch.

The Fire Monkey glanced back at the evaporating moisture, then turned its gaze back to Cecil. Its mouth twitched in an almost human‑like expression, as if mocking: "Is that all you’ve got?"

"It’s taunting you," Gwendolyn warned.

"I see."

The Fire Monkey leaped for the third time. No straight charge this time, but a complex zig‑zag path: it bounced off the left‑side wall to launch itself skyward, then dove down toward Cecil’s head. Cecil tracked its arc, held his right palm upward, and summoned a thin ice shield above himself. The moment the monkey’s claws slammed into the barrier, three melting indentations appeared on the ice. Sparks sprayed outward like hot metal shavings.

The shield held. The monkey rebounded, absorbed the fall with its hind legs and reset its stance.

A dull ache spread through Cecil’s right hand. Maintaining the shield had drained far more frost than he expected. The monkey’s body burned so hot that every second steadily evaporated his cold energy. If this exchange kept up, his frost reserves would not hold for many more rounds.

"We cannot keep blocking," Gwendolyn said clearly. "You cannot freeze it while it keeps moving. You need to make it stop —"

Cecil did not wait for her to finish. He launched another ice ball, yet this time his target was not the monkey itself, but the ground directly before its feet. The projectile shattered on the stone less than a foot from the beast. Frost spread fast across the bricks, forming a thin slippery sheet of ice.

The Fire Monkey stepped onto it. Its hind paws skidded the instant they touched the slick surface. Its torso tilted forward. Though its tail quickly restored balance, that momentary loss of equilibrium halted its momentum — it did not jump away.

"—Now!" Gwendolyn’s tail snapped rigid.

Cecil conjured a second ice sphere in his right palm and hurled it at the monkey’s exposed front as it leaned forward. He did not aim for its chest, but for the burning flames wreathed around its fingertips. When ice met spark, a cloud of billowing steam exploded, blanketing the monkey and blinding its sight.

The Fire Monkey let out a short, irritated shriek within the vapour. It tried to leap clear, yet its hind paws slipped again on the incompletely melted ice.

Seizing that split‑second slip, Cecil advanced two steps. Frost coalesced in his left hand and he struck sideways against the monkey’s shoulder. Hissing erupted where his cold palm touched the golden‑red fur. A thin layer of frost coated its pelt before melting away. Even so, for a fleeting instant, its temperature dropped.

The Fire Monkey’s cry shifted pitch. It burst out of the steam and retreated to the far side of the arena. Squatting down, it scratched frantically at its left shoulder, where the fur was darkened from frost then heat. Its amber eyes locked onto Cecil. The playful glint was gone, replaced by raw primal fury.

"...It’s enraged," Gwendolyn said, no trace of alarm in her tone, only sharp calculating focus.

Cecil stood in the arena centre, chest rising and falling. Less than thirty seconds of combat, yet he had burned through nearly as much frost as during an entire fight back inside the portal. The monkey’s body heat devoured his cold energy with every contact, and its stamina clearly outmatched his.

Low murmurs rippled through the spectator stands. "Even match," one voice commented. Another countered, "That monkey hasn’t truly gone all‑out yet." Leon remained on his platform, arms still crossed, yet his attention sharpened. His ice‑blue eyes stared unblinkingly down into the arena. The Thunder Griffin lowered its forequarters at his feet.

Cecil paid the audience no mind. He watched the Fire Monkey scratch at its frozen‑then‑thawed shoulder. Frost rebuilt in his right hand, slower now, yet far more concentrated. He told himself silently: my goal is not to freeze it. I just need to make it stop.

The Fire Monkey dropped its paws and settled back into a crouch. Its tail rose high behind it like a burnished golden‑red banner.

The next clash was coming.