How to survive in the Romance Fantasy Game Chapter 656: Frozen Resolve 2

Three official days had now passed since the Continental Grand Festival commenced. Within the academy grounds, operations proceeded with remarkable smoothness, surpassing initial expectations.

The vast stages, the strategically divided combat zones, the continuous flow of students and spectators—all functioned with precision, like a perfectly calibrated mechanism. Indeed, the tournament's excitement had only intensified with each passing day.

"Winner—Clad Ran!"

As another match concluded, cheers once again erupted. The announcer's voice reverberated throughout the stadium, conveying the exhilaration of both victory and defeat.

Each day brought forth new confrontations, fresh clashes of skill and resolve.

Victors steadily advanced, facing off against one another in increasingly intense battles.

However, what truly captivated the audience was the unpredictable nature of the matchups.

While the academy meticulously managed the sectors where battles occurred, the opponents themselves were almost entirely randomized.

This meant neither students nor spectators could ever fully anticipate what lay ahead.

In a quieter part of the academy, distant from the boisterous crowds, Fay walked beside her elder brother, her expression more pensive than thrilled.

"Elder Brother," she eventually spoke, her voice calm yet edged with tension, "I am likely to confront that honorable warrior again... the one from our previous encounter."

Melan glanced at her, immediately comprehending her meaning.

"Hm... by honorable, you refer to Kagami?"

"Yes."

Melan slightly reduced his pace, his expression turning serious. "I understand. He is a formidable opponent—resilient, disciplined, and considerably more dangerous in a one-on-one scenario."

Fay nodded silently as he continued.

"You must clearly grasp this," Melan stated. "His defeat against us during the team battles did not accurately reflect his true strength. There were... specific conditions. Nuances that worked against him."

Fay's memories stirred upon hearing his words.

The team battle.

Although much of that period remained strangely indistinct—as if parts of her recollection had been deliberately dulled—one moment she recalled with absolute clarity.

The confrontation with Kagami's team.

At the time, it had not felt particularly challenging.

Kagami and his comrades had fallen more swiftly than anticipated, overwhelmed by coordinated tactics and superior numbers.

Yet now, in retrospect, Fay perceived the truth more distinctly.

They had not vanquished Kagami because of his weakness.

They had vanquished him because he had been compelled to protect too many individuals simultaneously.

He had positioned himself at the battlefield's core, shielding allies, absorbing pressure, making impossible decisions under relentless strain.

In a way, his loss stemmed not from a lack of power—but from his intrinsic character.

In a genuine duel, unburdened by distractions, Kagami was an entirely different entity.

There was a solid reason he was considered among Lumen Academy's top warriors.

Fay subtly clenched her hand at her side.

"I comprehend," she stated softly. "If I face him... I will not underestimate him."

But—

That did not imply Fay's chances were low in a fair, one-on-one confrontation.

On the contrary, she felt confident.

Extremely confident.

"I have already conducted the necessary investigation and assessment regarding my opponent for tomorrow," Fay articulated calmly, her voice steady and composed despite the gravity of the name involved.

"Good," Melan responded, nodding in approval.

For a brief interval, the two elven siblings walked side by side through the academy corridors, their long strides synchronized as they progressed toward the next sector—the waiting area designated for Melan's impending match.

As they drew nearer, the roar of the crowd intensified.

Far louder than anticipated.

Cheers, shouts, and excited murmurs surged like ocean waves against the walls, significantly exceeding what either of them had expected.

In fact, the density of spectators rivaled even the main sector, where the emperor himself was personally overseeing matches.

Fay slightly slowed her steps, her ears twitching as she absorbed the overwhelming din.

"It appears this match holds much more significance than we initially thought, Elder Brother..." she murmured.

Melan's gaze narrowed slightly as he listened, then he nodded.

"It seems her prestige is far greater than we first realized..."

Fay glanced at her brother, who had already taken a seat on one of the waiting benches. A tightness grew in her chest as she grasped an unsettling truth—

The crowd was not there for him.

This realization made the impending event feel heavier, more oppressive. To contend against such expectations, against an audience already favoring another outcome, was never an easy feat.

"I believe in you, Elder Brother," Fay said softly, her voice imbued with sincerity.

Melan let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Haha... I appreciate your sentiments, Fay. But please, spare me your pity this time," he stated with a gentle smile. "I'll simply do my best—as I always have."

Before she could reply, a booming voice echoed through the sector.

"Melan of the Elven Kingdom!!!!"

At the announcer's call, Melan rose from his seat.

Before stepping forward, he reached out and gently patted Fay's head, a familiar, comforting gesture.

Fay looked up at him, worry still evident in her eyes.

Melan met her gaze and smiled warmly—calm, reassuring, unwavering.

Then he turned to advance toward the stage.

Midway, he paused.

"Oh—right," he said, glancing back. "Is the princess observing?"

Fay hesitated for just an instant before responding.

"...Yes. Princess Vanessa is present. Though her presence is faint... she is definitely here."

Melan nodded once, his expression becoming resolute.

"Good."

With that, he stepped forward and vanished into the roaring crowd, leaving Fay behind in the waiting area—her hands tightly clenched, heart pounding, silently praying that the stage ahead would not utterly consume her brother.

With each stride he took, the pressure intensified, becoming more tangible.

It was not merely the crowd.

It was the collective gaze.

Melan had previously fought humans.

He knew their fondness for battles, spectacle, blood, and glory—but this was his first encounter with such overwhelming awe and pride centered upon a single individual.

The way they looked at her transcended mere admiration.

It was faith.

He raised his eyes and saw his opponent standing there, motionless.

Seo Gyeoul.

Her face was serene. Almost blank. No murderous intent emanated, no aura screamed danger.

If anything, she appeared like someone patiently waiting for rain to cease.

And yet, Melan knew better.

He had heard the tales.

He knew the outcome of this match would be swift.

Still... standing before her now, it was difficult to believe this woman could fell someone before they even grasped their demise.

His fingers tightened around his bow.

He hardened his resolve and took a slow breath in... then out.

Yes, she was a monster.

Yes, she was a genius with the sword.

But that did not mean he would not try.

No one had endured even a second against Seo Gyeoul.

So his objective was straightforward.

Just one second.

That alone would suffice.

"Let the battle begin!!!!"

The instant the announcer's voice rang out, Melan moved.

His bow ascended in a single fluid motion, elven mana surging into the string and arrow.

Ancient runes faintly flared as he aimed directly at her center mass—not to kill, but to disrupt. To compel movement. To shatter her initial rhythm.

That was his strategy.

But—

Before the sound of the bowstring could fully register in his ears—

Purple lightning engulfed the field.

The world shifted.

Melan felt no pain.

He felt no fear, even.

The next thing he perceived, his cheek was pressed against the cold stone floor, the scent of scorched air lingering around him. His bow lay several meters away, cleanly severed in two.

He blinked once.

Then darkness claimed him.

The match had concluded.

He had already lost—

before he even realized it had begun.

....

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The soft, almost languid sound echoed across the quiet periphery of the arena.

Seo slowly raised her gaze.

Standing there was Snow, lightly clapping with a gentle smile on her lips, as if she had just witnessed an amusing theatrical performance rather than a one-sided annihilation.

"It seems your match concluded rather quickly this time as well," Snow remarked calmly.

"Yes..." Seo replied.

"Fufu. I understand this competition isn't truly vital to us," Snow continued, her tone light, almost playful, "but exercising a little restraint might make your matches more enjoyable, don't you agree?"

"I did hold back."

"Oh...?"

Snow blinked, clearly not anticipating that response.

A brief silence settled between them.

"By the way," Seo added, "why are you here? Did your match also conclude early?"

"Yes."

"I see..." Seo paused, then inquired, "Shall we go find Riley together now?"

Snow gently shook her head. "That would be delightful, but that is not why I came."

Seo turned to her, finally granting her full attention.

"I actually came here to see you," Snow stated. "There's something I wish to ask... a small favor."

Seo tilted her head slightly, contemplating for a moment. Then she nodded.

Snow smiled faintly, satisfied.

Not long after, the two departed the arena and made their way toward the back gardens of Killian Hall.

The crowd's noise receded behind them, replaced by the gentle wind and rustling leaves.

Sunlight filtered through towering trees, casting elongated shadows across trimmed hedges and pale stone paths.

They halted near the garden's center.

Seo took a moment to survey her surroundings before turning back to Snow. "So," she said, "what was it you wished to ask?"

Snow did not answer immediately.

Her smile slowly vanished.

When she spoke again, her voice was calm—too calm.

"Seo," she said softly, "kill me."

"...?"

Seo tilted her head again, instinctively, but this time there was no confusion in her eyes—only sharp focus.

She observed Snow's face.

Serious.

Clear.

Unwavering.

Snow was not jesting.