Quarter finals(3)

The evening sun beat down on the pitted sand of the Coliseum. Dust motes danced in the harsh light, each one a tiny reminder of the countless battles that had taken place on this very ground. In the center of the arena stood Nova, a fiery-haired girl from the Bloodsand Kingdom, her amber eyes blazing with a defiance that belied the tremor in her hands. Across from her, Severa, a stoic warrior from the Ironclad Duchy, radiated a steely calm. Unlike Nova, clad in light leather armor and wielding a pair of curved daggers, Severa was a walking arsenal. Gleaming black plates of armor encased her from head to toe, and a bastard sword hung heavy at her hip.

A hush fell over the crowd as the bronze gong clanged, a harsh sound that echoed in the sweltering heat. Nova, the crowd favorite, took a deep breath, willing the nervous tremor out of her limbs. She was known for her unorthodox fighting style – manipulating raw energy into bursts of offensive and defensive techniques.

Severa, however, remained impassive. She raised her hand, a cruel smile twisting her lips. A faint shimmer materialized around her, and then, with a sickening squelch, a swarm of writhing insects burst forth. Cockroaches, their bodies grotesquely distended, scuttled across the sand towards Nova, their mandibles clicking with hunger.

Nova's face contorted in disgust and she did a vomiting motions said

"Disgusting"

Nova raised her hand, she focused, gathering the energy thrumming around her. With a sharp exhalation, she unleashed a wave of raw force that swept across the sand, sending the insect horde flying. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers momentarily drowning out the chittering of the scattered insects.

The taste of victory was fleeting. Severa, unfazed by the display, raised her hand again. This time, the shimmer produced a much larger creature – a monstrous centipede, its body segmented and glistening black. With a guttural shriek, it lunged towards Nova, its pincers snapping with anticipation.

Panic flared in Nova's chest. This was different. This wasn't a mindless swarm, it was a predator, controlled by Severa's will. Nova sidestepped the centipede's charge, narrowly avoiding a painful bite. Thinking fast, she channeled energy into her hands, forming crackling spheres of raw power.

The crowd gasped as Nova launched herself towards the centipede, her hands blurring as she pummeled the creature with the energy spheres. Each blast sent a tremor through the monstrous insect, momentarily stunning it. However, the centipede's armored exoskeleton held strong. The raw energy seemed to invigorate it rather than harm it.

Frustration gnawed at Nova. She had trained tirelessly for this tournament, but nothing in her training had prepared her for this kind of opponent. The centipede lunged again, its pincers snapping at her. Nova rolled away, the sand stinging her exposed skin.

"Pathetic," Severa spat, her voice devoid of emotion. "Struggling against a mere appetizer?"

Nova gritted her teeth, ignoring the sting of the taunt. She needed a new strategy, and fast. Her energy reserves were dwindling, and with every failed attack, the crowd's cheers turned into a disappointed murmur.

Glancing around the arena, her eyes caught a glimmer of hope – a discarded waterskin lay near the edge of the sand. A desperate plan formed in her mind.

Taking a deep breath, Nova focused, channeling energy not into an attack, but into creating a bridge of raw energy connecting her to the discarded waterskin. The crowd fell silent, unsure of what she was attempting. With a concentrated effort, she pulled the waterskin towards her, the water sloshing inside.

Severa raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity replacing her earlier smirk. Before she could react, Nova smashed the waterskin on the sand, the water spreading outwards. For a fleeting moment, the sand glistened under the harsh sunlight.

Then, the real magic began. With a flick of her wrist, Nova channeled the energy coursing through the wet sand, supercharging it. It surged towards the centipede, a wave of crackling sand and raw energy. The effect was instantaneous. The sand, imbued with Nova's energy, acted like a million tiny needles. It ripped through the chitinous exoskeleton of the centipede, sending the creature screeching in agony.

A collective gasp tore through the crowd. Even Severa seemed surprised by the unexpected turn of events. The centipede, thrashing wildly, finally crumpled to the sand, its segmented body no longer a threat.

The silence stretched for a beat, then erupted into a thunderous roar. Nova, chest heaving, looked at her trembling hands. She had done it.

The elation was short-lived. As the cheers echoed in the arena, a wave of dizziness washed over Nova. The exertion of pulling off such a powerful maneuver had drained her reserves faster than she anticipated. Her vision blurred, and the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth – an internal injury, most likely, a result of the constant dodging and weaving.

Across the sand, Severa's stoicism had returned, the flicker of surprise replaced by a chilling calm. She raised her hand once more, and the familiar shimmer returned. But this time, what emerged wasn't a mindless insect or a monstrous predator. It was a human.

A young boy, no older than twelve, his eyes glazed over, stood there, his body twitching erratically. A wave of nausea washed over Nova. Severa's parasite magic wasn't just about controlling insects, it was about controlling any living creature she touched. The boy, a mere tool now, stumbled towards Nova, his arms outstretched in a grotesque parody of a hug.

Panic clawed at Nova's throat. Attacking the boy was unthinkable, but letting him touch her meant surrendering control of her own body. The crowd, initially stunned into silence by the horrifying spectacle, erupted in a cacophony of shouts and boos.

Thinking frantically, Nova stumbled back, her legs threatening to give way beneath her. The sand, once her ally, felt treacherous now, offering no purchase. She needed to create distance, but every movement sent a jolt of pain through her injured body.

"Pathetic," Severa drawled, her voice dripping with disdain. "You can't fight me and you can't fight for him. What a useless display of power." With each word, the controlled boy gained ground, his vacant eyes boring into Nova.

Tears of frustration pricked at Nova's eyes. This wasn't fair. She closed her eyes, focusing not on gathering energy, but on channeling her despair, her fear, her anger, into a single, desperate plea. An image flashed in her mind – a childhood memory, a scorching sun beating down on the Bloodsand plains, her father teaching her the resilience of their desert home.

Opening her eyes, a newfound determination hardened her gaze. This wasn't about winning the tournament anymore. It was about survival. With a ragged breath, she channeled the raw emotion into her hands, not into a forceful blast, but into a shimmering shield – a barrier of pure defiance.

The boy, propelled by Severa's will, slammed into the energy shield. A sickening thud echoed through the arena, followed by the boy's body crumpling to the sand in a heap. He wasn't dead, Nova knew, but the impact had severed the temporary control.

A guttural roar erupted from Severa. For the first time, a flicker of genuine anger marred her stoic facade. Raising her hand again, the shimmer materialized once more, but before she could complete the summoning, Nova launched herself forward.

It wasn't a graceful attack, fueled by strategy or technique. It was a desperate lunge, fueled by pure will. The crowd held its breath as Nova collided with Severa, the force of the impact sending them both sprawling onto the sand.

Dust swirled around them, momentarily obscuring the view. A tense silence descended upon the arena, broken only by the ragged gasps of the two warriors. Finally, a hand emerged from the dust cloud, followed by another. Nova, her face contorted in pain, pushed herself up, her body screaming in protest.

Across from her, Severa rose more slowly, her armor dented and scratched. Her face, for the first time, held a hint of respect, a grudging acknowledgment of Nova's tenacity.

The referee, his voice raspy from shouting, rushed into the arena. He took one look at Nova, her body battered and bloodied, then at Severa, her stoicism barely masking the fatigue etched on her face. "This fight," he declared, his voice thick with concern, "is over, Severa wins!"

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of boos and cheers. Nova, swaying on her feet, barely registered the announcement. All she could think about was the throbbing pain in her body, the overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

Medics materialized beside her, their faces grim as they assessed her injuries. Severa, with a curt nod towards Nova, walked out of the arena, her head held high despite the obvious toll the fight had taken on her.

As the medics helped Nova onto a stretcher, the cheers and boos of the crowd faded into a distant hum. She had fought valiantly, pushed her limits to the brink, but in the end, there were no clear victors, only two battered warriors forced to acknowledge each other's strength.