The Essence Flow

Chapter 120: The Trembling Fan

“Next match,” Kaelin announced, scanning her list, “Rellie… and Len Verestra.”

A murmur rippled through the students.

Towan sat forward. “Wait—Rellie got called up now?”

“She’s not even supposed to—” Elliot began, but stopped as Rellie stepped calmly into the arena.

Her pace was unhurried, hands folded behind her back, as if she were walking into a philosophy debate instead of a combat exam.

Across from her, Len Verestra descended into the ring with the grace of nobility and the presence of a thundercloud. Midnight-blue uniform pristine, silver hawk pins glinting in her braid. Fan already in hand, closed and ready.

Sylra’s eyes narrowed. “This’ll be fast.”

But not the way anyone expected.

Rellie stood at the center, looked directly at Kaelin, and said—

“I yield.”

The words echoed like a slap.

Even Len blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I forfeit,” Rellie repeated flatly, adjusting her collar. “I can’t use Essentia. Participating in combat would be idiotic. I came here to study theory.”

Silence.

Kaelin tilted her head, amused. “You sure?”

Rellie nodded. “Absolutely. I’d rather not die today.”

Kaelin shrugged. “Fair enough.”

From the balcony, whispers buzzed.

“Wait… she can’t use Essentia?”

“Then why is she even here?”

“She answered four exam questions before I finished writing my name,” someone muttered.

Len lowered her fan slowly.

“Actually,” Kaelin said with a mischievous smile, “since Len didn’t get to fight…”

She flipped her list, eyes gleaming.

“…we’ll have her face someone else. A replacement matchup.”

She paused dramatically.

“Elliot.”

Elliot froze mid-sip of water.

He lowered the cup slowly. “I’m sorry—what now?”

“You’re up,” Kaelin said, already walking toward the arena's edge. “No takebacks.”

Elliot looked at Towan.

Stolen story; please report.

Towan just grinned. “Enjoy.”

Elliot stepped onto the arena floor with the gait of someone who would have brought snacks if given the chance.

Len, by contrast, stood like a blade forged into human form—tall, composed, every inch of her polished and prepared. Her fan rested delicately in her hand, but her expression was sharpened steel.

“You don’t look like much,” she said.

Elliot smiled. “Good. I try not to.”

Kaelin raised a hand. “Begin.”

FWWOOSH.

Len didn’t hesitate.

She snapped her fan open—and the ground beneath her rippled as thin streams of water burst upward in elegant arcs, shaped by thin-line sigils etched along the fan's inner structure.

The crowd murmured in surprise.

Towan leaned forward. “She’s using water?!”

Alira blinked. “She didn’t even have an element last year…”

Rellie, from the edge of the balcony, just said quietly, “She studied.”

Down in the arena, Len’s movements were smooth. Controlled.

She conjured five tendrils of pressurized water, each one spinning like glass ribbons. Her eyes didn’t waver from Elliot as she launched them in staggered, whip-like strikes.

CRACK. SNAP. CRACK.

Elliot sidestepped the first. Then the second.

The third came from above—he leaned back, arms behind him, letting it pass with a breath’s width to spare.

The fourth—he spun, tapped it aside with his boot.

The fifth—he wasn’t there anymore.

One blink—and he was behind her.

The runes on the ground hadn’t even rippled.

Towan blinked. “…That speed.”

Sylra’s eyes widened. “He’s moving like lightning?”

“He’s just like Jyn,” someone in the crowd gasped.

Jyn, in the stands, stood abruptly, fists clenched.

“That’s an improper mimic,” he growled. “He hasn’t trained in the structure. It’s sloppy.”

Kaelin chuckled from her place at the edge of the ring.

“(Is that so?)”

Back in the arena, Len didn’t flinch.

She pivoted with grace, pulling the water into a defensive ring around her. Her breath came sharp but steady—the fan now both shield and focus.

“You think this is a joke?” she snapped.

Elliot shrugged. “Nah. Just didn’t feel like hitting someone who clearly worked really hard.”

Her eyes narrowed—hurt flickered beneath them, just for a moment.

Then she lunged.

Water blades snapped from her rotating ring, slashing toward Elliot in crisscrossing arcs.

An advanced form. Aggressive. Less elegant. Personal.

Elliot flowed between them.

No flare. No chant. No wasted movement.

Just presence. Control. Like gravity bent to him.

The final blade passed—

And Elliot raised a hand, gently brushing her shoulder.

“Point,” he said softly.

Kaelin didn’t call it.

Len stepped back, breath uneven. Her jaw clenched.

“…I yield,” she said—soft, but firm. “I can’t land a hit.”

Kaelin nodded. “Match concluded. Elliot wins.”

Up above, murmurs bloomed like sparks.

“I’ve heard she only started training last year.”

“She’s damn good for just one.”

“She almost clipped him with that combo…”

“Did he even use Essentia?”

Jyn sat down hard, jaw tight.

“He butchered the form,” he muttered. “That wasn’t Lightning. It was just luck and momentum.”

“Feeling insulted?” Sylra said flatly.

Jyn didn’t reply.

Down below, Len turned without a word and walked off the stage.

Her posture remained perfect—but her fan trembled faintly in her hand.

Towan watched her go, something unreadable behind his eyes.

“…She really did train,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Elliot replied as he approached, stretching his arms. “looks like she just doesn’t know that she’s already good.”

The rest of the matches had gone exactly as the professors expected—plenty of raw enthusiasm, less control. A few decent sparks, a few clumsy attempts at technique, and more than one student who clearly thought yelling louder made their Essentia stronger.

By the sixth fight, most of the arena had settled into a quiet lull.

Even Towan had slumped back in his seat, arms crossed, head tilted, eyes closed.

Then—

“Alright…” Kaelin called out from the floor, voice echoing through the chamber.

“Final match: Deyar Vellis… and Sera Vellmont.”

The energy in the air changed.

Sylra sat up straighter. “Now that’s an interesting one.”

Towan cracked one eye open, groggy. “Huh?”

“You were asleep?”

“You try watching three earth users slap each other with rocks for half an hour.”

She ignored him. “Deyar was top ten in the entrance course. Ice Essentia. Controlled, strategic. Some of his techniques can get... tricky.”

From the student seating, whispers sparked to life again.

“Vellis? He fought with freezing mist control, right?”

“I heard he nearly immobilized two people at once in the qualifiers.”