After Toristine's victory in the second battle, a celebratory banquet was held in the royal palace. Yet the expressions of Princess Alice and the Kelmanian delegation were anything but pleased. Sora and the others, however, enjoyed the feast in good spirits, taking quiet satisfaction in their triumph.
During the banquet, Queen Henrietta turned to Alice. "When shall the third contest take place, Your Highness?"
Now that Duke Yanryu had lost his dragon familiar, Toristine clearly held the advantage in the final duel. If Kelmania sent Alice to fight instead, she, though recently advanced to [Square-tier], had yet to master fourth-level magic — while Osman, the kingdom's venerable archmage, had already done so. The outcome seemed certain.
Alice's eyes gleamed with mixed frustration and calculation. "If Her Majesty is so eager," she said coolly, "then let us hold the third match three days from now. However"—her gaze hardened—"Uncle Nilent must first be released. We must restore his strength at once."
Henrietta paused to consider, then nodded. "Very well. I accept your condition."
Later that evening, under Henrietta's supervision, Alice and several guards escorted Duke Yanryu out of his confinement.
Before releasing him, the Queen's tone turned sharp. "I trust, Duke, you will refrain from further schemes against my knights. Toristine may be small, but I assure you — we know how to exact a price."
The Duke halted at the door, his back to her. "Your Majesty, rest easy," he said at last. "I have lost. I will not act recklessly again."
Henrietta's eyes narrowed. "Good. Then I shall look forward to your performance in three days' time."
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
With that, Duke Yanryu and Princess Alice departed the palace.
Henrietta immediately summoned Osman to arrange preparations for the final battle. "Three days from now," she said, "at the foot of the hill beyond the capital's walls. Can you manage that?"
Osman adjusted his robes and nodded gravely. "Yes. Set the battlefield there. I shall be ready."
The Queen agreed. The site was high and open — perfectly suited for a duel of this scale.
The following day, both sides confirmed the location and time: the duel would commence at dusk, two days later, outside the capital. A royal decree spread quickly through the city, drawing interest from nobles, commoners, and foreign ambassadors alike.
While the city buzzed with anticipation, Sora had no active role in this battle. With the finals left to Osman, he remained at the palace, serving as bodyguard to the three Vallière sisters. By day, he trained and oversaw Griffin Squad patrols; by night, he discreetly visited Louise, Éléonore, and Cattleya in turn — his days full, secretive, and strangely content.
When the evening of the third contest arrived, the hill outside the capital was transformed into a vast arena. Tens of thousands gathered at its base and slopes. Soldiers from the city guard, the Gramont household, and Duke Yanryu's personal retinue worked together to keep order.
From one side approached Queen Henrietta's entourage — Toristine's pride — followed on the opposite by Princess Alice, leading the Kelmanian delegation. Foreign envoys filled the rows behind them, murmuring in expectation.
The crowd buzzed with excitement. Battles between [Square-tier] magicians were exceedingly rare; these were beings at the pinnacle of mortal power, capable of shaping the outcome of entire wars.
Across the continent, there were only six known magicians of the Square-tier: Toristine's Osman, the Wind mage; Duchess Vallière, master of Earth; and Marshal Gramont, likewise attuned to Earth; Kelmania's Duke Yanryu and Princess Alice, both of Fire; and Albion's late Wind Archmage Gelfin — slain during its civil war. The mighty Gallian Empire, vast though it was, possessed none.
When two of such caliber clashed, entire armies could be undone. Gelfin's death alone had cost fifteen thousand soldiers their lives.
Now, as the setting sun bled across the sky, the spectators grew restless.
Then — a cry echoed from the distance: a high, regal screech that split the air. From far away, a ray of flame streaked toward them, expanding rapidly until its true form emerged — a phoenix, five meters long, wreathed in golden-red fire.
Atop it sat Duke Yanryu, clad in a flame-colored robe trimmed in gold, his expression cold and resolute.
Sora stood behind Henrietta, eyes narrowed. "That phoenix… Princess Alice, isn't that your familiar?" he asked with a bite in his voice.
Alice smiled faintly. "For the moment, it's Uncle Nilent's familiar."
Henrietta frowned. "Princess, a familiar is part of a magician's own strength. Using another's familiar in combat violates sacred magical principles."
"Xiaohong has merely suspended her contract with me," Alice replied smoothly, "and formed a temporary one with my uncle. It's legitimate — and yes, she can fight for him."
"That's impossible," Henrietta said sharply. "Familiar contracts are ancestral magic — sacred and immutable."
"The Ancestors," Alice said with a dismissive laugh, "are not supreme. The Four Great Spirits are equal to them."
Kelmania, after all, had not descended from the old nations founded by the Ancestors' disciples. They held little reverence for such traditions.
Sora frowned. "Even so, there are no spirits in Kelmania. Where would you have learned such forbidden magic?"
Alice's eyes glinted. "That," she said simply, "is not something I need to tell you. If you doubt Xiaohong's legitimacy, have Dean Osman examine her contract yourself."
The Queen said nothing further. The confidence in Alice's tone left little to challenge. Both understood the risk — and now, all they could do was trust Osman's mastery to withstand the Duke's fiery onslaught.
On the battleground, Duke Yanryu sat cross‑legged atop the phoenix, eyes closed.
A sudden gust rippled through the grass as Osman approached — an austere figure in plain blue‑gray robes, white beard gleaming, tall staff in hand. He halted thirty meters away, the air humming with wind magic.
"Nilent," Osman's voice carried across the field, amplified by a breeze, "so you've stooped to borrowing Princess Alice's familiar?"
The Duke's eyes opened. "And you, old friend — will you fight me empty‑handed?"
Osman smiled faintly. "Heh… I had planned to conserve my strength. But if that's how it is, then I won't hold back."
"Come, then!" Yanryu's voice boomed. His hair flared crimson, and volleys of fireballs — each the size of a human head — flamed into being around him. With a sweep of his arm, ten, twenty spheres hurtled toward Osman, engulfing every direction of escape.
The older mage only sighed, flicking his staff. "Indi Wendy Wendy Hou!" — [Wind Wall].
A wall of air surged up before him, half a meter thick and three wide, forming a translucent barrier. The fireballs struck one after another, bursting into cascades of sparks that flared but failed to penetrate.
Even as the last impact faded, Yanryu had already begun a greater incantation. "Yah Mayfair 3 Albrook!" — [Flame Explosion].
A gigantic fireball, five meters wide, spun into existence at his wand's tip. The phoenix darted forward, closing the distance. With a mighty swing, the Duke flung the flaming mass in a long arc toward Osman's position.
Osman reacted instantly. "Lille Wendy 3 Young!" — [Wind King's Shield]!
A dense blue barrier formed above him, five meters across and angled upward. The moment the Flame Explosion struck, a blinding light engulfed the sky. Even distant spectators shielded their eyes from the glare.
When the blast cleared, Osman had already ridden the aftershock skyward, using the shield's recoil to propel his escape.
But the Duke's senses were sharp, and his fury sharper. "You won't flee me that easily."
Osman, now grounded and steady, thrust his staff forward. Wind whirled around him. "Haxiu Wendy 3 Lie!" — [Blade of the Wind King]!
Above him, a five‑meter crescent of compressed wind spun faster and faster until it gleamed like a cyan disc. The Duke's instincts screamed danger.
The phoenix shrieked, wrapping itself in flame. The Wind Blade launched — a streak of blue light cleaving through the sky.
SHRAAACK!
The phoenix intercepted, its fiery body splitting in two. For an instant, it seemed destroyed — only to re‑form from its own embers, scooping its master mid‑fall and soaring aloft once more.
"Impressive," Osman murmured, sweat beading on his brow.
Duke Yanryu, humiliated and enraged, raised his wand again. "You've forced my hand!"
A new crimson fireball gathered before him, glowing brighter than before. Strange golden lines spiraled over its surface, pulsing with an ominous rhythm. The phoenix's wings fanned the air, feeding the growing inferno.
Osman's face tightened. That's no ordinary Flame Explosion…
Alice, watching from the stands, frowned. "What is that? Even I don't know that form…"
"Germundot Ess Ess Esse!" Osman chanted — [Guardian of the Earth]!
Before him, a thick wall of soil rose from the ground, eight meters high and five across.
"Go, Pyro!" the Duke shouted.
The gilded fireball plunged like a falling star, striking the earth wall head‑on. The barrier melted under its heat — but Osman had already flown clear, surviving with only the blast's edge catching him.
Barely had he recovered when the Duke unleashed another barrage — a dozen smaller fireballs, each marked with the same golden tracery.
They struck from every direction. Osman threw up a sphere of swirling air, an enhanced [Wind Wall], enveloping him in a protective whirlwind.
The impacts rocked him violently, driving him to the ground. Smoke rose, and when it cleared, he stood bruised and bleeding, breathing hard.
More fireballs ignited around Yanryu.
Osman's eyes hardened. "Then let the winds answer!"
"Gruss Wendy Wendy Wendy Wendy Spar!" — [Tornado]!
The air convulsed. A vast column of whirling wind enveloped him, scattering sand and dirt in gales so fierce that spectators instinctively shielded their faces.
The Duke sensed the pressure. "Fourth‑level magic," he muttered. Then he, too, raised his wand.
"Einz Phil Phil Phil Phil Crowe!" — [Heavenly Fire Burns City]!
An inferno blossomed in answer. Dozens of flaming spheres formed around him, each radiating unbearable heat. The very air shimmered.
On one side: Osman's tower of wind, fifteen meters tall, still growing.
On the other: a storm of flames, gathering by the dozen, each adorned with golden veins of power.
The two legends locked eyes through the storm.
Yanryu struck first — thirty fireballs shot into the tornado like flaming comets. Osman countered, his whirlwind surging skyward. The two forces collided violently.
One by one, the fireballs merged, swelling larger until they fused into a single monstrosity nearly eight meters across — half swallowed by the tornado, half blazing free.
For agonizing seconds, they balanced in tension — until the energy peaked.
Then came the detonation.
"Get down!" Sora shouted, grabbing Henrietta and pulling her beneath the heavy banquet table as Alice ducked beside them.
BOOOOOOM!!!
The twin fourth‑level spells annihilated each other. The blast tore through the hillside, scattering countless shards of fire and wind like lethal rain. Trees ignited, spectators screamed, even distant roofs caught fire.
Sora sprang to his feet, rallying the Griffin Squadron. "Evacuate the hill! Put out those flames!" he ordered. Tabasa and other water mages joined in, dousing the spreading blaze.
When the smoke thinned, Osman floated down slowly, pale and shaking, his strength nearly spent.
The phoenix, wings spread, shielded its master from the worst of the aftershock. Fire could not harm it, but the howling wind had left it singed and weakened. Duke Yanryu, protected beneath its wings, was exhausted — his mana drained, yet alive.
The phoenix cried triumphantly, still radiating fierce vitality.
Osman looked up at it and sighed, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "If only my Musutonil possessed power of the fourth tier…"
The phoenix descended, catching its master and settling on the ground. Flames flared around it again.
With a long exhaling breath, Osman said, "I concede."
At his word, Duke Yanryu lowered his wand. Though bitterness lingered, he obeyed the unspoken law — to slay a foreign Square-tier mage outside of war would invite calamity.
The phoenix shrieked victoriously.
The crowd exhaled, sorrow rippling through Toristine's ranks while Kelmania's delegation beamed with pride.
Sora kept directing the evacuation and firefighting, his face composed but his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit deep into his palms.
The long, grueling three‑part contest had ended — Toristine defeated, yet far from disgraced. The strength they had displayed ensured no nation would dare underestimate them again.
That night, another banquet was held. Neither Henrietta nor Sora could mask their disappointment, and Osman pleaded exhaustion to avoid attending altogether.
Alice, by contrast, was radiant with satisfaction. Duke Yanryu himself appeared calm, sipping quietly — though the upward curl of his beard betrayed triumph.
Sora sat in silence, staring into his untouched wine. The thought of Éléonore marrying into Kelmania knotted his chest with anger.
He lowered his head, eyes shadowed — a silent storm gathering behind them.