Chapter 44: Acknowledged by Rivals!

Cecil bent to pick up the short ice‑spear. He slid the ice sword into a makeshift ice sheath at his waist, shield in his left hand and spear in his right. The Fire Monkey’s amber eyes swept over the ice shield, ice sword and ice spear one after another. Its tail swayed slowly behind its back.

Cecil raised the ice‑spear behind his shoulder, taking aim at the monkey’s right side. His gaze locked onto the faint tremor every time its right leg touched the ground — he had read its rhythm.

He hurled the spear.

The ice‑spear sliced through the air, drawing a sharp cold glint beneath the dome’s blue‑white light. The Fire Monkey dodged to its right, yet the tremor in its right leg as it pushed off slowed its leap by half a beat.

The spear grazed the outer side of its right limb. It did not pierce flesh, but the cold rolling off the blade carved a longer frost streak across its fur.

Upon landing, the monkey’s right leg buckled sharply and its torso lurched left. It steadied itself and jumped backward, retreating to the edge of the arena. It crouched low, keeping its injured right leg hovering off the stone, balancing only on its left leg and tail.

It did not lunge again right away.

It stared at Cecil. In its amber eyes, the urge to attack and cold assessment flickered back and forth, like two competing lamps.

Cecil stood in the centre of the arena. A shallow mark marred the rim of his left‑hand shield, steadily mended by Gwendolyn’s power. He drew the ice sword from his waist, fine rime coating its blade. His breathing was faster than usual yet controlled.

Less than half his frost reserves remained, but he could feel Gwendolyn steadily reinforcing the surfaces of his shield and sword from behind him.

Only the sound of breathing lingered across the spectator stands.

The Fire Monkey hunkered at the arena edge. The frost mark on its right leg faded little by little, yet it held its ground, watching Cecil and his ice sword.

Then — its amber eyes blinked once, soft and subtle, as if truly seeing the young man before it for the very first time.

Small sparks re‑ignited across its gilded‑red fur as the frost wore away. It blinked once more, then lifted its tail again. This time it curled slightly at the tip, like a banner being raised anew.

The final clash was coming.

Cecil felt it deep in his bones. Not much time remained between him and the Fire Monkey. Whichever side prevailed, this next exchange would decide everything. His right hand tightened around the ice‑sword. Frost patterns swirled slowly along the blade under the dome’s blue‑white glow.

Gwendolyn’s voice drifted from behind the ice barrier, quieter yet steadier than before. "Its right leg is nearly healed. You have enough frost left for two full releases. Use it sparingly."

Cecil did not turn his head. Deep within his mind he opened the silver‑text interface —[Combat Value: 89][Available Attribute Points: 1]. He had saved that single point ever before entering the Monster Gate, holding it for the right moment. He had not spent it until now.

The Fire Monkey arched its back. Both hind legs coiled and exploded outward. It launched itself forward so fast it left an orange‑red afterimage through the blue‑white radiance.

No feints, no zig‑zag trajectories this time — only a full‑power straight charge. Flames quickly burned away the frost residue on its right leg, and surging heat warped the air ahead of its body.

Cecil did not dodge. He stepped toward the oncoming monkey, shifted the ice‑sword from his right hand to his left, and cupped his palm upward to conjure his final ice sphere. His eyes locked onto the monkey’s right leg. The frost mark was gone, yet he remembered exactly where it had been.

The Fire Monkey’s claws crashed down. Two fist‑sized fire orbs condensed at its fingertips and hurtled toward Cecil. His left‑hand ice‑sword swept horizontally to deflect the first orb.

Bursting steam blurred his vision for an instant. The second fireball tore through the vapour. Instead of meeting it with his blade, Cecil twisted aside. At the same moment he launched his ice sphere straight at the monkey’s right leg.

The ice projectile flew through the steam and struck its target precisely. Instead of spreading into a wide sheet of frost upon impact, it formed an ultra‑thin, nearly invisible ice film over that patch of fur — just enough to send biting cold shooting through the muscles the instant the monkey bore weight.

Its right leg trembled.

The tremor was faint, little more than ripples across water. But Cecil saw it. At that exact moment, he mentally tapped the long‑saved attribute point on the silver panel —[Strength].

A heavier, denser warmth flooded through his body, like molten lead poured between his waist and shoulders, filling every loose gap in bone and muscle.

His centre of gravity solidified instantly. His boots pressed against the stone bricks with unshakable firmness, as though roots had driven into the ground.

He charged forward, no retreat. The ice‑sword rotated in his left hand, changing from a horizontal cut to a thrust. The tip aimed for the unstable balance point exposed by the monkey’s trembling right leg.

The ice‑blade sank in roughly a palm‑width below the Fire Monkey’s chest. Not a fatal wound, but the exact pivot that shattered its equilibrium. Where ice met flame, a thin veil of steam formed, only to refreeze into fine ice crystals spreading along the monkey’s fur.

Cecil kept moving, carried onward by the thrust’s momentum. His left shoulder slammed hard into the monkey’s flank, shoving its weight from its left leg onto its damaged right one.

The limb was still stiffened by the thin ice film and could not bear the sudden load. The Fire Monkey tilted half a degree rightward, then another, before losing all airborne balance and crashing backward under the force of the impact.

It landed heavily onto the stone bricks. Its four paws pointed skyward, its tail thumped weakly once against the ground and then fell still. It did not rise at once. Its forelimbs scrabbled uselessly in the air as if grasping for balance, then slumped down.

It lay there, chest heaving, amber eyes half‑lidded. The tiny sparks across its golden‑red fur went out one by one, like candles being snuffed. The ice film on its right leg had melted, yet its muscles kept shaking — not from injury, but utter exhaustion.

Cecil halted his charge five paces away. The ice‑sword hung at his side, its frost patterns slowly fading. Deep soreness spread across his shoulders and back, the aftershock of pouring an attribute point into Strength and then releasing that power. His breathing was heavy, heavier than in any earlier exchange, yet it stayed controlled.

He turned around. The Fire Monkey lifted its half‑closed amber eyes to look at him. Its gaze lingered briefly on Cecil’s face before drifting away, as if acknowledging something it hated to admit.

Gwendolyn’s voice came from behind the ice barrier. Soft and hoarse, drained of nearly all remaining strength, yet edged with a rare note of relief. "...You won."

Cecil glanced down at his right hand. Surface rime melted away, and the warmth from the Strength boost ebbed slowly. Fine cracks spiderwebbed across the ice‑sword’s blade, as if the weapon, its purpose fulfilled, was beginning to disintegrate.

Silence reigned over the stands for a heartbeat. Then someone drew a sharp breath, their voice echoing clearly beneath the vast dome. "—That thrust... did anyone see exactly how he pulled that off?"

No one answered. Up on the platform, Leon uncrossed his arms and relaxed his tightly clenched knuckles. His Thunder Griffin crouched beside him, golden pupils fixed on the lone figure standing over the fallen monkey, remaining quiet for a long while.

The blue‑white runes began spinning once more. A beam descended from the dome and enveloped the Fire Monkey. Its outline blurred within the radiance.

Its gilded‑red fur dissolved little by little, like pigment diluted in water. It cast one final look toward Cecil. The calculating glint in its amber eyes was gone, replaced by quiet resignation.

Then it vanished.

Cecil stood alone in the arena centre, holding a crumbling ice‑sword in his left hand. His right arm hung loose, faint vanishing frost still lingering at his fingertips.

A thin layer of sweat coated his back. A tear ran along his left shoulder’s robe, revealing a shallow burn mark on his skin. Still, he stood tall.

The whole arena fell silent for roughly two seconds. Then the applause broke out.

It was not scattered, tentative clapping. Sound surged simultaneously from every edge of the grounds, weaving into one continuous roar.

Strangers scattered across the spectator stands all rose to their feet. Some clapped, some whistled, others exchanged glances and nodded at one another.

Cecil heard the noise rolling in from all directions, like a tide slowly yet irresistibly washing over the stone bricks where he stood.

He turned. Freddy burst out from the crowd first. Turner perched on his shoulder, its grey fur fluffed all over.

Freddy ran faster than he had ever moved before, his face wearing that look of "You won, yet I still cannot quite tell how". Lydia followed close behind, Ivy hanging halfway down from her wrist.

Oliver and Edwin hurried over from another direction. Robin skimmed low through the air, while the Rust Beetle raised its antennae atop Edwin’s collar.

Vera and Lena walked side‑by‑side, with Martha stowing her short axe behind them. Lena rested her book across her arms.

The multicoloured butterfly fluttered free from her braids and hovered above Cecil’s head. Blue, green and purple lustre swirled across its wings beneath the dome’s light, like a slowly spinning medallion.

Emon descended the steps. His left forearm burn had been hastily wrapped in cloth. He halted two paces away from Cecil, looked him in the eye, and said only one line. "Well‑timed final thrust."

Victor leaned half his body out from the crowd on the opposite side. His dark‑purple bat crouched on his shoulder, its silver patterns glinting under the light.

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though subtler than before. The golden ring within his dark‑brown pupils brightened. "...You’ve got something. The power behind that strike was on an entirely different level from everything earlier. You held your ace until the very end."