Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins
Chapter 48: Face Off 4

Chapter 48: Face Off 4

The end of the battle had come.

The air itself seemed to hold its breath, heavy with the remnants of smoke, frost, and shattered mana. Craters and scorched earth stretched across the ruined forest, trees reduced to charred silhouettes, and the sky burned with the soft golden light of early evening.

Only two figures remained in the arena.

Rayne.

Layla.

Their uniforms were ripped, armor dented, faces stained with sweat and blood. But neither bent. They stood opposite each other—two monarchs vying for the throne of the Academy.

This wasn’t just another trial. This was the Student Council War.

Layla lifted her twin sabers, each blade crackling faintly with residual frost. Her expression was calm, confident, and terrifying in its serenity.

"You know," she said, tilting her head, "you don’t have any chance now."

Rayne flinched.

It wasn’t the words.

It was the familiarity of them.

Just like the previous year.

He clenched his jaw, fingers tightening on the haft of his glaive.

"Tsssh... everything... every plan backfired," he growled. "I had everything. Your defeat was inevitable. Every powerhouse was on my side. Ashen, Seraphina, Rin, Nyx, Kali... even Sasha. And yet... here I am..."

His voice cracked. "How... how can I lose? How can I stand... exactly where I was last year?"

Layla didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she smiled—a small, knowing curve of the lips. She stepped forward slowly, blades lowered at her sides.

"You really don’t know," she said softly. "Even now."

Rayne’s eyes narrowed.

"You still haven’t figured it out?"

Layla’s gaze turned to the broken sky. Her thoughts drifted—to him.

Outside the forest, atop the grand spectator terrace of the Academy, all eyes were locked on the floating projection. The display showed the battlefield in real time—zoomed in on Layla and Rayne as they stood, unmoving, awaiting the final clash.

Nobles, instructors, sponsors, foreign diplomats, even disguised royals—everyone stood still.

Everyone but one.

Ashen Crimson.

He stood straight, shoulder to shoulder with the other victors of the battle—though none had the fire in their eyes he did.

His uniform was scorched, his side still bleeding faintly through the bandage, but he carried himself like he hadn’t lost a step. His eyes were fixed on the projection, not with worry—but pride.

The moment he had been extracted from the battlefield, two blurs had crashed into him.

"Ashen!!"

Sasha and Aurelia slammed into his sides.

Sasha gripped his arm tightly, flushed with emotion. Aurelia clung to his cloak, eyes wide with desperate curiosity.

"Ashen—what happened after I was eliminated?!" Aurelia demanded. "Are we winning? What’s the status? From the attendance here it looks like... Layla and Rayne are the only ones left, right?"

She paused, then her eyes lit up. "Wait. Does that mean we’re going to win?!"

Ashen sighed, gently raising his hand to stop the barrage. "Chill. One question at a time, please."

He turned to Sasha first, cupping her face gently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly. "Everything good now?"

Sasha blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. She nodded quickly. "I’m fine. I... I lost control. When I woke up, I was already here. I think the fight with Kali pushed my body too far. The curse... it deactivated when I blacked out."

She looked down, fingers curling slightly. "I guess I just... gave out."

Ashen smiled faintly.

"Well done," he whispered, patting her head gently. "You did great."

From a distance, a flicker of reactions sparked.

Liora stood at the edge of the overlook, her hands gripping the rail tightly.

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed, saying nothing.

Aurelia blinked, her hand slowly lowering from Ashen’s sleeve.

Lucielle, however, smirked.

And surprisingly—Nyx chuckled darkly, amused, the corner of her lips curling upward in a sharp grin.

Ashen stepped up onto a broken ridge of stone and raised his voice.

His shadow flickered behind him as he spoke.

"Everyone," he called, voice clear and firm, "it’s true. We’re on the verge of victory."

A pause.

Then he raised a single finger.

"No. Not the verge. We are the victors."

The crowd erupted.

The students from his faction roared in celebration. Cheers echoed across the viewing terrace, a rumble of triumph and relief rising like a second wave.

Ashen stepped down and returned to the group gathered near the edge—Liora, Aurelia, Lucielle, and Sasha had drawn close. Seraphina and Kali joined a moment later, silent but attentive.

It was Kali who spoke first.

Her voice was flat—but the concern behind it was unmistakable.

"Sasha," she said, "what the hell was that?"

Sasha turned toward her, confused.

"That power," Kali continued. "What... are you?"

Sasha blinked. "I... I don’t know."

"You nearly tore yourself apart," Kali said, arms crossed. "I wasn’t scared of losing. I was scared you were going to die."

Ashen stepped between them.

"You don’t know Sasha like I do," he said, half-smiling. "She can’t die. Not when I’m around."

Sasha’s cheeks flushed a deep red. "Ashen..."

Lucielle sauntered over and added with a laugh, "My my. Brother’s grown quite bold. Flirting in public now? You’ve really matured."

The rest of the group turned to look at him.

Ashen cleared his throat. "I wasn’t flirting."

Liora opened her mouth—then shut it again, a faint frown on her lips.

Aurelia narrowed her eyes.

Seraphina just sighed and crossed her arms.

Kali tilted her head, curious.

Nyx... still smiled, amused.

They returned to watching the final battle.

Layla moved first.

Rayne saw the flicker—just a twitch of her fingers—and raised his glaive defensively.

Too slow.

She blinked across the ground, skating atop a sheet of frost she conjured in real-time. Her blade lashed out, striking the base of his glaive and knocking it upward. He twisted, trying to counter—but she was already gone again.

Another dash.

Another cut.

She was dissecting his defense.

Rayne shouted, wind exploding from him in a radial burst. Trees shattered. The ground cratered. Layla was flung backward—but landed on her feet, skidding to a stop.

"You’re desperate," she said flatly.

Rayne snarled, gathering his wind again.

"You think it’s over?"

"I know it is."

Layla rushed in, blades spinning, weaving between gusts and shockwaves.

Rayne held nothing back. Gale after gale, swing after swing—he moved with fury. The ground was littered with trenches from missed blows. The forest itself bent around his wind.

And still, Layla advanced.

Her sabers cut arcs of frost, sealing the earth with each step. She closed the distance.

Rayne tried to leap back.

Layla blinked behind him.

A sweep of her blade knocked him forward.

She stepped again.

And drove both sabers into the earth.

Ice erupted, binding his legs.

Rayne roared, slamming wind downward.

Layla darted left, spun once—and with a cry, slashed across his chest.

Rayne staggered, his glaive falling from limp fingers.

He dropped to one knee.

"I don’t understand," he whispered. "I had it all..."

Layla’s sabers hovered above him.

"No," she said. "You had power. We had trust."

Her blades flashed.

The blades flashed once—then came stillness.

Rayne’s body trembled. A faint glyph shimmered beneath him. The elimination sequence triggered silently, almost gently, as if the system itself recognized the weight of his fall.

White light engulfed him.

And then he was gone.

Eliminated.

Layla exhaled.

Her sabers dropped from her hands, clattering onto the frost-laced earth. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she remained standing, barely, as if refusing to fall until someone told her it was over.

Then—

The sky cracked with thunder.

Golden runes burst across the battlefield as the Academy’s monitoring system announced the final outcome. A beacon of light surged skyward from Layla’s position, marking the victory point.

From the edge of the field, the remaining support staff and healers moved in at once.

Spectators rose to their feet.

But none faster than Ashen.

He stood at the very front of the overlook, watching the light beam like it was a monument. Around him, cheers erupted—students from Layla’s faction celebrating wildly. Aurelia threw her arms into the air, Liora let out a trembling breath of relief, and Lucielle smirked triumphantly.

Nyx gave a slow clap, amusement twinkling in her tired eyes.

Kali folded her arms, but a proud smile tugged at her lips.

Seraphina and Sasha simply looked toward the battlefield—silent, respectful.

Ashen said nothing at first.

Then he stepped up.

And bowed his head.

"To the victors," he murmured.

Minutes later, Layla stood alone in the center of the cratered arena, her uniform in tatters, blades sheathed, face calm. A procession of banners descended from the sky—golden light forming her emblem: a pair of frost-tipped wings.

The Headmaster’s voice echoed magically across the Academy grounds.

"Let it be known—the winners of this year’s Student Council War are Layla Nowa’s faction. Led by Head Layla Nowa, the last standing combatant."

Cheers surged like a wave.

Layla looked skyward, eyes glowing faintly with magic. But her voice was low.

"Ashen," she whispered. "You were right."

The afterparty was held atop the Academy’s upper pavilion—a grand garden overlooking the battle arena, now restored to peace. Tables brimmed with food and wine. Healing mages moved between students, patching bruises and burns. Professors mingled with noble family representatives.

Ashen stood near the edge of the gathering, cloak newly mended, hair still tousled from battle. His eyes scanned the horizon.

Until a familiar voice called out.

"Took you long enough to win," Layla said.

He turned.

She stood there in a fresh Academy uniform, cleaned and radiant, but the exhaustion in her stance remained. Her sabers were sheathed on her back like medals.

Ashen grinned. "Well, I did most of the work. You just had to mop up."

Layla raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

He chuckled. "Kidding. That final duel—you were brilliant."

Layla looked at him for a moment, then softened. "Thanks... for trusting me."

"I always did."

She smiled. "Then you’re dumber than you look."

"Probably."

Nearby, Sasha and Liora laughed together. Seraphina and Lucielle were comparing wounds. Aurelia stood with Kali, sharing a rare glass of wine. Nyx watched them all from a distance, unreadable.

Ashen watched, too.

Then turned to Layla again.

"So. Council President?" he asked.

Layla shrugged. "Technically... I’m the leader. It’s my faction. But yes—last woman standing."

"Mm. I hate paperwork."

Layla laughed. "You’re impossible."

Ashen leaned against the railing.

"No. Just finally where I belong."

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden fire across the Academy.

The war had ended.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.