Having finally seized the opening and pinned her opponent on the back foot, March 7th refused to let up for a single breath, maintaining a fierce, relentless offensive.
Despite Argenti's steady defenses, enduring such sustained pressure without a decisive counter meant slowly being bled dry on the scoreboard.
Over the course of these recent exchanges, Argenti had clearly felt the transformation in March. Her offensive hunger had grown sharper, her strikes hit with greater conviction, and her reaction speed was blistering, devoid of even the slightest hesitation.
It seems Miss March has truly come into her own... I cannot afford to fall behind!
Just as he had envisioned before the match, the greater the pressure March exerted, the hotter his fighting spirit burned.
Though pushed to the brink, a brilliant, exhilarated smile broke across his face. He drew a steadying breath, centering his mind entirely on the rhythm of the arena.
The live chat surged with frantic energy:
"Here it is! This is the peak clash we've been waiting for!"
"Championship duel fans are eating good! The tactical back-and-forth is unreal!"
"Contest fans are screaming too! The visual flair in every exchange is unbelievable!"
"Why choose between them? Double the excitement, double the joy!"
"I honestly thought March didn't have the foundation to match Sushang and Argenti, but she literally leveled up mid-tournament!"
"It was all building up during that Guinaifen match! You could see the gears turning!"
"Trainers, take notes! Argenti versus Sushang and Argenti versus March 7th are the absolute gold standard for Contest battles!"
"Pin this to the top of the feed!"
"The match is amazing, but Argenti is bleeding points! Pull through, my knight!"
"March is taking the crown today! Express crew all the way!"
"When is the next championship tournament starting?! I can't wait anymore!"
Argenti remained pinned in a precarious position. In a traditional tournament bout, this would simply be a phase to weather—a patient Trainer would dig in, absorb the blows, and wait for the adversary to overcommit.
On the Contest floor, however, time and score ticked away in lockstep. Every falling point reminded the Trainer that without an immediate turning point, the match would slip through their fingers.
The ticking clock applied suffocating mental strain.
Yet Argenti refused to panic. He quieted his racing pulse, coolly probing the storm of frost and wind for a sliver of daylight.
Having survived countless trials, he knew intimately that the more desperate the hour, the more absolute one's composure must be.
He leveled his breathing and narrowed his focus.
Unlike the bloody battlegrounds of his past, where life and death hung in the balance, this stage held no mortal malice. Here, Trainers gathered to seek and celebrate beauty together.
Through the clash of wills, the purest interpretation of that ideal would rise to the summit.
Visual splendor was a form of beauty.
Unyielding perseverance was a form of beauty.
Growth through struggle was beauty, and the pursuit of victory was no less sacred.
Standing in the center of the ring, Argenti felt closer to Idrila than he had ever felt before.
"Milotic, hold the line with Aqua Ring!"
"Roselia, Magical Leaf, keep their vanguard in check!"
As he called out his commands, a luminous, ethereal silhouette flickered faintly above his partners, shimmering at the edge of his vision.
He knew it was Her.
Yet he dared not let his attention drift. He had encountered this vision before; the slightest lapse in focus, the faintest flicker of self-indulgence, and the divine phantom would vanish into mist.
I must be purer. More focused. More devoted to Pure Beauty!
Argenti drew a deep breath, casting aside all lingering stray thoughts. He even set aside his conscious craving to behold Her, pouring every shred of his soul into the battle at hand.
Beauty was a boundless, all-encompassing concept, touching anything perceived by the heart and mind.
Looking back at his approach, he realized he had not truly brought forth his own personal truth in this clash.
The knightly decorum his partners mimicked was inherited from the ancient creeds of chivalry. His battle plans were pieced together from his own solo travels and recorded tournament footage. Compared to seasoned veterans who lived and breathed high-level competition, his tactical framework had gaps he had never had the chance to test against true masters.
That was why March, fortified by Welt's rigorous coaching, had pushed him into a corner where ordinary counters fell flat.
Up until now, what truly belonged to him had remained dormant.
All he truly possessed was an unconditional, burning devotion to his ideal.
What did that ideal truly mean? Elegance? Raw power? Those were broad, abstract words. What he needed was a tangible truth he could brandish right now on this field.
His memories flashed through every match since the qualifiers began.
Dazzling choreography, seamless transitions, unified intent...
Unified?
Elements? Forms?
Ideas raced through his mind like sparks until a single truth took root: freedom!
Yes! Unshackled, fearless freedom!
A joyous laugh rose from his chest. He had never practiced this theory, nor did he know if his partners could execute it without prior drills, but his instincts told him this was the only path forward.
Just as he prepared to call out the next instruction, the world seemed to freeze.
The shimmering phantom before him resolved into sharp, breathtaking clarity. Draped in a pure white gown woven with crimson roses, she turned, revealing a serene, flawless countenance crowned by flowing crimson tresses.
Argenti knew it in his soul: this was Idrila, the divine ideal he had sought across a thousand worlds.
In this fleeting instant, the gaze of the Aeon rested upon him.
Whether this was the living presence of the deity or a lingering resonance of Her fallen grace mattered not. It was the Pure Beauty that belonged to him alone.
Argenti sank to one knee, lowering his head in his most solemn, heartfelt salute.
"Idrila, Goddess of Pure Beauty, unmatched in all creation!"
"Miloo~"
"Rosa~"
Without his noticing, Milotic and Roselia appeared at his side, bowing in unison.
Joy swelled in Argenti's chest.
"We shall present our devotion before You, and Her holy name shall echo to the farthest reaches of the stars!"
The radiant figure offered a gentle, tranquil smile before dissolving into a cascade of glowing rose petals, scattering on the wind.
Time snapped back into motion. Argenti's eyes flashed with absolute conviction as his gaze locked onto the battlefield.
"The hour of our counter-assault has arrived! Milotic, unleash the Glacial Hydro Pump!"
"Roselia, hold nothing back! Command every petal upon the field, Petal Dance!"
Standard water or ice techniques would simply be absorbed or deflected by Articuno's barrier, so Argenti chose to fuse the elements into something unprecedented. He wasn't entirely certain Milotic could maintain the thermal balance on the fly, but the time for hesitation was gone.
As for Roselia, even an enhanced Petal Blizzard lacked the sheer presence to contest a legendary bird in open airspace; its physical volume was naturally limited by the small bloom size.
To overcome that boundary, they had to merge the techniques into an entirely new creation.
A massive, pale torrent of water erupted from Milotic. At first glance, the pale crest looked ordinary, but a biting, sub-zero chill radiated from its core.
Beside it, Roselia channeled every drop of its Grass-type energy. Millions of razor-sharp cherry blossoms condensed from the air, swirling into a towering, endless wall of pink petals that surged straight toward Articuno like an advancing tidal wave.
Up at the judging panel, Julian's eyes widened in genuine shock, an involuntary thought screaming in his head: Wait a second... is that Senbonzakura?!
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