Sarn, watching from the spectators’ section, muttered to herself, “She’s pying it safe, as always, controlling the field first. But this guy… he’s not just going to let her.”

  Ron stomped his foot onto the ground, and the earth quaked beneath him, sending ripples through the floor. The tremor tore through the ash cloud, creating gaps that exposed Ema’s position. She shifted to the side, her eyes narrowing as she realized what he was doing.

  “Impressive,” Ron said, his voice steady. “But ash won’t hide you from me.”

  Ema didn't respond, her focus sharpening. As Ron stomped again, the ground beneath her buckled. She leaped just in time, avoiding a fissure that had formed where she stood.

  "Trying to destabilize me?" Ema muttered under her breath. "Let's see how you handle this."

  She unleashed a wave of ash that surged toward Ron like a bck tide, thickening the air around him. Ron staggered slightly, coughing as he struggled to see. But instead of panicking, he grinned and smmed his hands into the ground.

  The tremors intensified, and the earth beneath Ema cracked and shifted violently, throwing her bance off. She stumbled, nearly falling, as Ron charged through the ash cloud with surprising speed.

  “Got you!” Ron yelled, aiming a punch powered by the force of the tremor at her.

  Ema ducked at the st moment, her movements fluid despite the quaking ground. She retaliated by igniting the ash closest to Ron, creating a small explosion that forced him back.

  The spectators gasped as the force of the bst cleared the field momentarily, leaving both fighters visible. Ema stood tall, ash swirling protectively around her, while Ron steadied himself, his feet firmly pnted to keep from losing his bance.

  “You’re better than I thought,” Ron admitted, a faint smirk pying on his lips. “But I’m just getting started.”

  He smmed his foot down again, and this time the tremors weren’t random. A series of calcuted cracks spread toward Ema, forming a grid-like pattern that boxed her in.

  Ema's eyes widened as she realized she couldn’t dodge without stepping into one of the cracks. "Smart move," she thought. "But you’re underestimating me."

  She raised her hand, pulling ash from every corner of the field. It condensed into a dense wall around her, masking her completely. As Ron prepared to attack, the ash exploded outward in a blinding storm.

  Ron shielded his eyes, momentarily disoriented. Seizing the opportunity, Ema charged forward, using the cover of the ash to nd a solid kick to his side, sending him skidding across the ground.

  The crowd roared as the intensity of the battle rose. Ron coughed but quickly got back on his feet, his expression more focused than before.

  “You’re tough,” he admitted, brushing dirt off his uniform. “But let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

  As the battle continued, the ground quaked, ash filled the air, and the spectators watched, spellbound. For the first time, it felt like neither fighter had a clear upper hand, and the outcome of the semi-final was anyone’s guess.The arena buzzed with anticipation as Ron suddenly smmed his foot into the ground, releasing two powerful seismic vibrations. The tremors rippled through the ground, causing cracks to appear and dust to rise. Ema staggered but quickly steadied herself, her sharp eyes analyzing every movement Ron made.

  From the spectators' line, Sarn leaned forward, her heartbeat racing. “She’s watching him,” Sarn thought. “But what is she waiting for?”

  Ron stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. The energy required to send those tremors was evident, and Ema noticed the slight pause in his movements. She narrowed her eyes.

  "Two strikes," she whispered to herself. "How long does it take him to recover before he can do another?"

  Ron, unaware of Ema’s calcutions, stomped the ground again, but this time the tremor was weaker, barely reaching her position. He growled under his breath. “Damn, I overdid it,” he thought, realizing his energy was too drained for another full-scale attack immediately.

  Ema seized the opportunity. She raised her hand, ash swirling around her like a living entity. With a sharp motion, she sent a thick wave of ash directly toward Ron, engulfing him in a blinding storm.

  Ron coughed, his vision obscured by the dense ash cloud. “Smart,” he muttered, stepping back cautiously. “But blinding me won’t save you.”

  Inside the ash cloud, Ron tried to listen for Ema’s movements, but the swirling ash muffled even the faintest sound. He prepared for an attack, his body tensing as he waited for her to reveal herself.

  Ema, however, stayed calm, keeping her distance as she continued to monitor him. "He’s on edge now," she thought. "But I can’t let him recover his strength."

  Ron clenched his fists, frustration building. “Come out already!” he yelled, smming his foot into the ground once more. The tremor was weaker than before, but it disrupted the ash momentarily, clearing a small space around him.

  Ema smirked. "He’s exhausting himself even more." She intensified the ash storm, pushing it closer to him.

  Ron flinched, shielding his eyes as the ash pressed in. His movements became more erratic, and it was clear to the spectators that he was struggling.

  “She’s forcing him to waste his energy,” Sarn thought, watching intently. “She’s not just strong; she’s smart.”

  With Ron blinded and off-bance, Ema moved swiftly, closing the distance between them. She unleashed a quick but precise attack, nding a solid kick to his chest. Ron stumbled back, gasping for air as the crowd erupted in cheers.

  “You’re good,” Ron admitted, his voice strained. “But don’t think I’m out of tricks.”

  Ema remained silent, her confidence unwavering as she prepared for his next move. Despite the intensity of the battle, her strategy was clear: keep him blind, keep him guessing, and exploit every mistake.

  The fight continued, the ground trembling beneath their feet as ash and strategy cshed in a spectacle that kept the audience on the edge of their seats.

  The arena buzzed with tension as Ron, his jaw tight with determination, smmed his foot into the ground once more, sending tremors rippling through the battlefield. Ema staggered slightly but quickly regained her bance, her sharp eyes locked onto his every movement.

  Ron, breathing heavily, attempted another strike. His foot hit the ground hard, and a powerful vibration cracked the earth beneath Ema’s feet. She narrowly dodged the uneven ground as Ron smirked, thinking he had her cornered.

  “She can’t keep this up,” Ron muttered under his breath, his hands clenching into fists.

  But Ema’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. She spread her arms, and her ash surged around her like a storm, concealing her movements. Ron’s smirk faltered as his vision became obscured.

  Ema moved nimbly within the ash, calcuting every second. She noticed something: Ron was releasing his tremors recklessly, with no regard for conserving his energy. "He's trying to overpower me," she thought. "But he's losing focus."

  Ron smmed the ground again, and a smaller tremor shook the arena. This time, Ema stood firm, realizing it wasn’t as strong as the previous ones. Her eyes glinted with understanding.

  “He’s overdone it,” she whispered, a faint smile forming on her lips.

  From the spectators' seats, Sarn observed the scene intently, her fists clenched. “He’s getting desperate,” she thought. “And she knows it.”

  Ron, blinded by the ash, grew impatient. “Come out and fight me!” he roared, stomping the ground in frustration. The tremor he released barely traveled, and his legs wobbled from the exertion.

  Ema, hidden within the ash cloud, smirked. “That’s it. He’s burned himself out.” She moved swiftly, using the ash to mask her approach.

  Ron, realizing he had overextended himself, tried to step back and regain his footing, but the unstable ground he had created with his earlier tremors betrayed him. His foot slipped into one of the cracks, and he stumbled, falling to one knee.

  The audience gasped as they saw him falter. Ema seized the moment. With a precise movement, she directed a dense wave of ash toward Ron, enveloping him completely.

  Ron coughed, struggling to rise, but his movements were sluggish. “No…” he muttered, panic setting in as he realized he was trapped.

  Ema emerged from the ash storm, her posture calm and composed. “You underestimated your limits,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of finality.

  Before Ron could react, Ema unched a calcuted strike, a kick to his chest that sent him sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted in cheers as the referee decred Ema the winner.

  Sarn watched from the sidelines, her heart pounding. "She stayed calm the entire time," she thought. "Even when the odds seemed against her, she waited for him to make a mistake."

  Ron, lying on the ground, gritted his teeth. “I…I should have been more careful…” he muttered, realizing his overconfidence had cost him the match.

  Ema, as always, said nothing more. She simply walked off the battlefield, her confidence unshaken, leaving Ron to reflect on his defeat.

  As Ron fell to his knees, defeated by Ema’s calcuted strike, Sarn’s eyes stayed glued to the battlefield. Ema’s calm demeanor as she walked away, victorious, sent a chill through her. This wasn’t just luck or sheer power—Ema had taken control of the fight the moment she stepped onto the field.

  Sarn shifted in her seat, her pulse racing. Ema’s ash cloud wasn’t just an attack—it was a strategy. She made Ron exhaust himself. She forced him to reveal his rhythm, then used his mistake to her advantage. It wasn’t just strength; it was precision, timing.

  She gnced down at her hands. What am I doing wrong?

  Sarn thought back to her own training, how she’d poured all her energy into perfecting the fire around her sword. It was destructive, yes—but destruction alone didn’t win fights. Watching Ema now, she realized the fw in her approach. If I go in thinking power will overwhelm skill, I’ll lose. It’s not just about swinging the strongest bde—it’s knowing how to strike, when to strike, and how to read the battle.

  The crowd’s cheers broke her thoughts, and Sarn stood up, her heart pounding harder. My chances are slim if I fight like this. I’ve been treating this like a contest of strength, but it’s not. It’s about brains and skill, together.

  She watched Ema leave the arena, calm and composed, her head high despite the intense fight. Sarn clenched her fists. If I’m going to survive this... no, if I’m going to win this, I need to stop relying on just one thing. I can’t be reckless anymore. I’ll need to fight smarter, pn better. Or else, I won’t stand a chance.