Chapter 128: Seraphina’s Battle [4]

Valdris lunged forward, spear thrusting straight at her chest, the intent and lightning coiled around the tip like a raging storm.

But Seraphina wasn’t there anymore.

She moved in close, inside his reach, too fast for him to track. Her fist connected with his ribs before he could react. Then his jaw. Then his shoulder. Then his stomach. The blows came in a blur, each one landing with a sharp, sickening thud that echoed through the silent arena.

The students watched, frozen, their faces pale. A collective chill ran down their spines. The sound of Seraphina’s punches was relentless, rhythmic, like a drumbeat of doom.

Valdris tried to counter. He swung his spear wildly, releasing bursts of thunder and spear intent in every direction. The lightning lashed out, the intent cut through the air, but they did nothing against her. Her punches kept coming, breaking through his attacks like they were made of paper. The lightning fizzled against her skin. The intent shattered against her fists.

She was untouchable.

Valdris’s eyes glazed over. His defenses crumbled. His spear slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.

Another punch landed on his temple. Then another on his cheek. His head snapped back, and his body went limp.

He collapsed to the ground, unconscious, his face bruised and bloodied.

Seraphina lowered her fist and straightened up. She didn’t even look winded. She turned and walked back to her starting position, her steps calm and unhurried.

The arena was dead silent. Not a single whisper. Not a single breath.

The students stared at the unconscious Valdris, then at Seraphina, their minds struggling to process what they had just witnessed.

Even Sylas was silent. Even with his cultivation restricted like this, he couldn’t do that. And also, damn, she was brutal.

She was like a tigress.

"What are you waiting for?" Seraphina’s snappy voice came from the arena, waking Sylas from his thoughts.

Sylas coughed, clearing his throat. "Winner: Seraphina Drax."

The entire Coliseum was still silent. This was the quickest battle. It hadn’t even reached five minutes, and it was the first battle where the opponent had been beaten into unconsciousness.

And one thing again: it wasn’t that the opponent who lost consciousness was weak. He was actually stronger than some of them.

Now he was on the ground, head swollen everywhere and bruised. He didn’t even look like an Originator anymore, but a mortal that had been beaten up. His face was barely recognizable, purple and blue welts covering his cheeks and jaw. One eye was swollen shut. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth, pooling slightly on the cracked stone beneath him.

His spear lay forgotten a few feet away, its glow completely dead.

The students slowly exhaled, the tension in their shoulders easing, but the shock still lingered in their wide eyes and open mouths. A few of them glanced at each other, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Sylas stared at Valdris’s crumpled form, then back at Seraphina, who stood calmly in the center of the arena like nothing had happened. Her uniform was still pristine. Not a single strand of her golden hair was out of place.

She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Then Seraphina turned and walked toward the arena exit. Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone, calm and unhurried. She didn’t look back at Valdris. She didn’t acknowledge the stunned crowd. She just walked off like she had finished a casual warm-up, her golden hair swaying gently behind her.

The students parted instinctively as she passed, eyes wide, mouths still hanging open. A few shrank back, as if afraid she might turn on them next.

Sylas watched her go, then shook himself out of his daze. He waved his hands, and the rune barrier surrounding the arena glowed with a warm, golden light. The light pulsed once, then flowed down toward Valdris’s crumpled form, wrapping around him like a gentle blanket. The bruises on his face began to fade, the swelling slowly receding. His cracked ribs mended with a faint, soft popping sound. Color returned to his pale cheeks.

Valdris’s eyes fluttered open.

He blinked, staring up at the ceiling of the Coliseum. His mind was foggy, disoriented. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The faint hum of the runes and the soft murmur of the crowd slowly brought him back.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing slightly. His body ached, but the pain was already fading. He looked around, confused, his brow furrowing.

Then the memories hit him like a flood.

The dragons. Her palm. The punches. The relentless, brutal barrage that had torn through all his defenses. His face going numb. The ground rushing up to meet him.

His eyes went wide. His breath caught in his throat.

’Did I just lose consciousness?’

He stared at his hands, then at the empty spot where Seraphina had stood. His spear lay nearby, cold and silent. The realization sank in slowly, heavy and cold.

He had lost. Completely. Utterly. He hadn’t even landed a single blow on her. She hadn’t even broken a sweat.

It wasn’t all. When she launched that flurry of punches on him, he heard her words.

"You should be grateful that this is the academy, or your head would have rolled off."

He didn’t doubt her words. The killing intent he felt made him feel chills, like he was standing in hell. The cold, suffocating pressure of it still lingered in his memory, making his skin crawl even now.

He glanced at her figure as she stood before Lucien.

"Darling, how did I do?" Seraphina asked with glowing eyes. Her voice was bright, almost playful, a stark contrast to the brutal force she had just displayed.

"You did well," Lucien said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Seraphina rushed into his arms with a joyous expression, her golden hair bouncing as she buried her face against his chest. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, like she was claiming him.

"Pat my head," she said, her next words shaking Lucien.

He glanced at the crowd, who was looking at their little K-drama unfolding in the middle of the arena. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on them. Some students whispered. Others stared in disbelief, still processing what they had just witnessed, now watching this strangely intimate moment.

Lucien just smiled and did as she asked. He raised his hand and gently patted her head, his fingers running through her soft golden hair. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing in contentment, a satisfied hum escaping her lips.

He looked down at her, his thoughts turning serious. Now he had confirmed his suspicions. It seemed Seraphina had a grudge against the Dragon Clan. He had felt her killing intent during the battle with Valdris, sharp and cold, far beyond what a simple academy match required.

Something deep and personal was there.

"Darling, what about me?"

Lilith’s jealous voice brought him from his thoughts.

She had appeared beside them, her arms crossed, her lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout. Her purple eyes burned with barely concealed envy as she stared at the scene before her.

Seraphina’s eyes snapped open. She pulled back from Lucien’s chest just enough to glare at Lilith, her golden eyes narrowing.

"Excuse me?" Seraphina said, her tone flat and cold.

"I want head pats too," Lilith said, stepping closer. She tried to wedge herself between Lucien and Seraphina, her hand reaching for Lucien’s arm. "Darling, you should pat me too. I was watching the whole time. That should count for something."

Seraphina’s grip on Lucien tightened. She shifted her body, blocking Lilith’s path, her expression darkening.

"No," Seraphina said firmly.

Lilith blinked, her pout deepening. "Why not? You got patted. I want to be patted too. It’s not fair."

Seraphina stared at her, unblinking. Her voice was cold and flat, like she was stating an undeniable fact. "This was my reward for winning. If you want to be patted, you should win a battle."

Lilith’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened, then closed. A flash of frustration crossed her face, and her hands clenched at her sides. She looked at Lucien, her expression shifting to something more desperate, almost pleading.

"Darling, tell her," Lilith said, her voice turning whiny. "Tell her to share."

Lucien sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He glanced between the two women, feeling the weight of their stares pressing down on him.

Seraphina’s glare didn’t waver. She pressed closer to Lucien, her hand resting possessively on his chest.

"Lilith," Seraphina said slowly, her voice dripping with warning, "back off. This is my moment."

Lilith’s eye twitched. A low, almost inaudible growl escaped her throat. Her gaze flickered with something unhinged, her smile stretching just a little too wide.

"Fine," Lilith said, her voice sweet and sickly. "I’ll just have to win my own battle then, won’t I?"

She took a step back, but her eyes never left Seraphina. The air between them crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on.

Seraphina turned back to Lucien, her expression softening instantly. She rested her head against his chest again, ignoring Lilith completely.

Lilith stood there, fuming, her fingers twitching at her sides. Her gaze lingered on Lucien, hungry and possessive.

The students watched in stunned silence, unsure if they should be afraid of the fight that almost broke out or amused by the bizarre love triangle unfolding before them.