A Mate To Three Alpha Heirs novel Chapter 206

{Third Person}

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Elira stepped out into the blinding light of the arena. Her red hair glowed like fire under the sun.

Her uniform jacket had been modified for combat—sleeveless, flexible, and trimmed in silver. The faint burn of magic pulsed beneath her skin; her wolf, Selene, stirred restlessly.

“Let them see you,” Selene whispered in her mind. “Let them see what they tried to bury.”

Elira lifted her chin and walked forward, feeling the weight of thousands of eyes on her.

Somewhere in the sea of professors, she caught Zenon’s gaze that was like cold steel wrapped in quiet pride.

Lennon winked, and Rennon offered a small, grounding nod.

Then the Vice Chancellor’s voice continued:

“Second-year student, “Cassian…”

“Third-year student, Orion…”

And on, until all ten stood side by side, forming a powerful line across the arena floor.

“Honoured guests, today we watch not just a contest of strength, but of discipline, will, and pride. Each of these warriors represents the best of ESA. Let the moon and stars witness their courage!”

Cheers exploded again.

Elira’s friends—Nari, Tamryn, Juniper, and Cambria were practically jumping from their seats in the lower stands, waving like mad.

Elira couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

But in the upper pavilion, not everyone shared the same warmth.

Luna Gwenith’s expression was smooth—too smooth as she leaned slightly toward Alpha Cyprus.

“She bears her mother’s fire,” she murmured. “I had hoped that line would end quietly.”

Cyprus gave a small sigh but said nothing. This was not the time and place to argue with her.

Behind them, Lady Maren watched, her lips curved into the faintest smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

And in the Student Council section, Regina sat still as marble, her heart pounding with venom.

’Not again.She cannot be allowed to win again.’

Her gaze flicked to the rows below, where her assigned agents—two students loyal to her—sat ready to move at her signal. Her plan was already set; all she needed was the right moment.

Back in the arena, the Vice Chancellor stepped forward again. “This final match will proceed as follows: two rounds, each between two combatants. The winner of each round proceeds to the final stage. Supernatural abilities are permitted, but under the same conditions of restraint. Should a fighter strike to kill or severely maim, immediate disqualification will follow.”

The magic wards pulsed faintly in acknowledgement.

Elira drew a slow breath. The air around her shimmered faintly with heat—Selene’s fire rising in response to her heartbeat.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her opponent, tall, broad-shouldered, his expression unreadable.

Cassian. Second-year. Born of one of the noble houses. Massive, broad-shouldered, and calm in a way that only the truly dangerous could be.

When his name was announced alongside hers, the noise in the stands turned into a wave of whispers.

Cassian was known for one thing — precision. He had never lost a match by brute force, only by patience.

’Just like Adriel,’ she thought for a split second. ’But colder.’

They faced each other on the mat.

Cassian inclined his head slightly, a gesture of formality, but his eyes held no warmth.

“Elira Shaw,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’ve been quite the talk of ESA. Let’s see if it’s just talk.”

Elira’s lips twitched, but she didn’t utter a word. Then the Vice Chancellor raised a hand. “Combatants, prepare.”

The bell rang.

“Begin!”

Cassian didn’t move. He stood there, relaxed, watching. Waiting.

The crowd hushed, sensing his stillness. Elira shifted her stance.

Five seconds, then ten, and neither moved.

Then, Cassian’s hand twitched—a blur of motion, and she barely dodged the kick that came for her ribs. The air whooshed past her side, the impact grazing her uniform.

He was fast—deceptively fast for his size.

Elira countered with a low sweep, trying to catch his ankle, but he leapt over it and landed fluidly, pivoting before she could blink.

A faint smirk curved his mouth. “Not bad. But you are holding back.”

Elira’s jaw clenched. She straightened, her eyes narrowing. “You talk too much.”

Then, she moved. He blocked a jab and then caught a roundhouse kick.

Cassian twisted her leg, throwing her off balance. Elira hit the mat with a dull thud, breath leaving her lungs.

Pain rippled up her side.

She rolled just in time to avoid his next strike, flipping to her feet again. Her heart thundered. Sweat beaded on her temple.

Around them, the crowd had gone still.

Then her own power responded. Flames shimmered faintly around her fingertips—small at first, then blooming like molten petals.

Fire and wind met again, the air crackling between them.

From the professor’s stand, Zenon’s jaw tightened.

“She is close to losing balance,” Rennon murmured.

“She won’t,” Lennon replied softly. “Not this time.”

Cassian was the first to move. He spun his body and launched a slicing gust toward her—a crescent of compressed air.

Elira rolled aside, the attack slicing a clean groove across the mat where she had been standing.

Another gust came, sharper, faster. She countered, thrusting her palm forward and releasing a burst of fire. The flames collided with the wind, bursting into a blinding explosion that drew gasps from the stands.

When the smoke cleared, both of them were still standing — bruised, sweating, but burning with resolve.

Cassian smirked. “Impressive. But control will always fall to the calmest hand.”

Elira steadied her breath, her eyes narrowing. “Then I suppose I will just have to set the calm on fire.”

She dashed forward. The flames along her arms brightened, wrapping around her fists as she punched through another incoming gust. The heat distorted the air, forcing Cassian to step back.

He twisted his body, summoning a spiral of air to lift himself, but Elira was faster now, reading his rhythm as he had once read hers.

’Don’t match him,’ Selene whispered inside her. ’Consume him.’

Her next attack wasn’t wild; it was precise. She leapt into the air, channelling the fire to her feet, using its propulsion to spin and strike from above.

Cassian raised a barrier of wind, but it buckled under the sheer heat.

The impact sent him sliding several feet backwards. His breathing turned ragged; his uniform was torn at the shoulder.

The crowd was on their feet now, torn between awe and disbelief.

Cassian growled, his control faltering. He swept both arms outward, creating a violent cyclone that threatened to swallow her whole.

Dust and light fused into chaos, and from within that storm, a flare of crimson burst like a heartbeat.

Flame cut through the wind.

The cyclone shattered.

Cassian staggered backwards, his balance gone. Elira didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, grabbed his wrist, and twisted — sweeping his legs with a single, decisive motion.

He hit the mat hard, the air leaving his lungs. Before he could rise, Elira’s palm hovered just above his chest, heat radiating faintly.

The referee’s voice rang clear: “Enough! Match over. Elira Shaw advances to the final stage!”