Chapter 301: Ariel’s Fight [1]

Chapter 301: Chapter 301: Ariel’s Fight [1]

Grand Marshal Vane’s hand dropped.

The gong’s echo faded into nothing.

Boros of the Iron Mountain Sect stomped onto the stage, his massive frame blocking out the light.

He was two meters of solid muscle wrapped in heavy plate armor, a slab shield the size of a door resting on his shoulder.

He slammed the shield down.

The stone cracked beneath the impact.

Dense Earth Qi coated the metal surface, turning it into a fortress wall. Brown energy rippled across the shield in thick waves, pulsing with the weight of mountains.

Boros grinned.

His teeth were yellow. His eyes were small and cruel.

"Little girl," he rumbled, his voice like grinding boulders.

"Go back to your sect before I break those pretty bones."

The Iron Mountain dugout erupted in laughter.

Their leader leaned back, arms crossed, a smug smirk plastered across his face.

Ariel did not respond.

She walked forward.

Her steps were light, unhurried, each foot placing itself with the grace of a dancer.

The Trident rested in her hands, its azure surface catching the light of the projection array above.

The ambient humidity inside the arena barrier began to rise.

It started as a subtle shift, barely noticeable. A slight heaviness in the air. A faint coolness against the skin.

Then it grew.

Moisture condensed on the stone floor.

Tiny droplets formed on the barrier walls. The air grew thick and wet, pressing against the lungs of every cultivator in the stands.

Boros’s grin faltered.

He planted his feet, adjusting his grip on the shield.

The Earth Qi coating it pulsed brighter, reinforcing his stance.

"Pretty tricks won’t save you," he growled.

Ariel kept walking.

Her dark blue hair floated around her shoulders, lifted by an unseen current.

The Sea Princess Bloodline hummed beneath her skin, resonating with the moisture in the air.

Damon watched from the Azure Dragon dugout.

His golden eyes tracked every movement, every shift in her posture.

He saw the calm in her shoulders, the steadiness in her grip.

She was ready.

Boros lunged.

His shield came forward in a devastating charge, Mountain Wall Stance at full power.

The air itself screamed as he closed the distance, his massive frame becoming a battering ram of stone and steel.

The crowd gasped.

Ariel pivoted.

It was a simple movement. A single step to the side, her body flowing like water around a rock.

She brought the butt of The Trident up, meeting the edge of his shield at an angle.

The impact sent a shockwave across the arena.

Boros’s charge deflected. His momentum carried him past her, his shield grinding against the stone floor as he struggled to recover.

He spun around, face red with fury.

"Stand still!"

Ariel smiled.

It was a gentle smile. A kind smile.

The kind of smile that promised destruction.

She twirled The Trident in her hands, the legendary artifact spinning like a baton. The three azure prongs caught the light, casting blue reflections across the arena floor.

Then she drove it into the ground.

The prongs sank into the stone like it was water.

No resistance. No pause.

The artifact slipped into the earth as if returning home, the three azure tips vanishing into the solid rock with a soft, wet shink.

For a single heartbeat, nothing happened.

The arena held its breath. The roar of the crowd died into a whisper, thousands of voices choking on their own anticipation.

Even the wind seemed to stop, the air growing thick and heavy with waiting.

Boros laughed.

It was a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the arena walls, a sound of pure, arrogant relief.

His shield arm dropped, his stance loosening as he straightened to his full height.

"Missed me, little—"

The ground exploded.

A pressurized tidal surge erupted from beneath his feet, a column of water compressed to the density of steel.

It rose like a dragon waking from the deep, roaring with the fury of an ocean storm.

Boros’s eyes went wide.

The arrogant relief drained from his face, replaced by a flash of genuine terror.

His pupils contracted to pinpricks as he saw the column of compressed water rising toward him, moving with the inevitability of a natural disaster.

He tried to raise his shield.

His arms moved, but they moved through molasses.

The slab shield, which had weathered countless battles, felt impossibly heavy in his grip. He was still bringing it up when the surge hit.

The impact was apocalyptic.

His Mountain Wall Stance shattered like glass under a sledgehammer.

The technique he had spent decades perfecting, the stance that had turned aside attacks from cultivators a full realm above him, dissolved in an instant.

The water column didn’t slow.

It didn’t pause. It simply continued its ascent, carrying his broken defense with it.

The slab shield crumpled, folding in on itself like paper.

The metal screamed as it twisted, shards of it flying in every direction.

Pieces of the shield spun through the air, glittering in the arena light before embedding themselves in the stone floor.

The shield’s core, the enchanted heart that had powered it for generations, detonated with a flash of orange light.

Boros flew backward.

His body ragdolled through the air, limbs flailing, his expensive armor cracking under the pressure.

The water column pursued him, relentless, until his back slammed into the perimeter barrier.

The translucent wall caught him, held him for a fraction of a second, and then released him. He slid down it, unconscious, his armor dented and smoking.

His body hit the perimeter barrier with a crack that echoed through the arena. He slid down the translucent wall, unconscious, his armor dented and smoking.

Silence.

Dead silence.

The arena held its breath.

Grand Marshal Vane raised his hand, his expression unreadable.

"Winner! Ariel Aquaria of the Azure Dragon Sect."

The crowd erupted.

It was not the polite applause reserved for expected victories. It was raw, primal shock.

Thousands of voices rose at once, a wall of sound that crashed against the arena walls.

The Iron Mountain dugout sat frozen.

Their leader’s smug smirk had vanished, replaced by pale-faced disbelief.

Ariel pulled The Trident from the ground with a soft shink.