Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 271: The Final Round

The first day of the final round of the competition was unfolding with grand fanfare. Professors, instructors, and academy staff filled the main auditorium, watching each bout projected live onto a colossal screen. Twelve matches ran simultaneously, each displayed in a separate section of the screen.

Cadets who hadn’t made it into the top twenty-five were still permitted to spectate from the second-floor gallery, their cheers and murmurs blending with the buzz of the crowd below.

Eleanor had already won her first four matches of the day. Her second victory had been the most notable... a hard-fought duel against Rohan Harivamsa, widely regarded as the strongest of the younger generation from India’s Harivamsa Clan. His affinity for ice and mastery of the spear made him a formidable opponent, but in the end, Eleanor’s precision and adaptability carried her through.

Her third win came against a Merfolk, and her fourth against a vampire. Both were tough, but she had prepared for them. Yet her final match of the day was of a different calibre altogether.

Her opponent was Barrock Ironhide... a member of the Ironhide Clan, a Stone Dragon renowned for their resilience and overwhelming physical strength. His ability to negate lightning spells made him a natural counter to Eleanor’s elemental power. A true nemesis, if ever there was one.

After her fourth match, Eleanor took a moment to steady herself. This one, she decided, she would fight with everything she had. Winning wasn’t guaranteed, but that wasn’t the point... even if she "died" in the simulation, she’d lose nothing but stamina and pride. Her spirit would recover after a night’s rest. This was the perfect chance to measure her real progress.

When she entered the arena, Barrock Ironhide was already standing in the centre of the duelling platform... a solid, immovable figure, his twin war hammers slung across his shoulders. His presence alone was like that of a mountain come to life.

Eleanor stepped up onto the platform, the sound of her boots echoing softly against the stone. She took her place opposite him. Neither spoke. They simply regarded one another in silence, the air between them tense and expectant.

Then came the automated voice of the referee system:

"Countdown initiated."

10... 9... 8...

Eleanor exhaled slowly, her hands already crackling faintly with static.

3... 2... 1... Go!

disadvantage in this fight, so she chose to move first. Without hesitation, she charged forward at full speed, testing her opponent’s reactions. Her feet barely skimmed the stone floor, leaving faint traces of blue-white sparks in

tracked her every motion, his massive frame turning with

a blade aimed at his throat. He didn’t block it. Instead, he tilted his head a fraction, just enough for the strike to whistle past his ear. The air crackled where her fingertips

left hammer. It wasn’t meant to hit her; it was a warning. The hammerhead tore through the air with a deep whoosh, the sheer force of it creating a pressure wave that

to do better than that to defeat me... if you even

her voice calm but edged with challenge. "Don’t get complacent too soon. Let’s see who’s standing

she spoke, she activated Mind

could predict the angle of his

displacement. One moment she was five metres away, the next she was

like metal striking metal. Pain flared up

She was already moving.

into the space she’d just vacated, exploding against the platform with a thunderous crack that sent

through the rain of debris, her Bolt Steps leaving ghostly afterimages

and there to go

strikes to his spine, fingers searching for the gaps in his natural stone armour. Each blow landed with a concussive thud and a

a net of destruction around him, each swing calculated not to catch her but to limit her options, to herd her. His dragon sense made her lightning-swift footfalls as clear as shouted warnings; he always knew where she would land. When she tried a feint, his Shockwave Awareness detected the subtle shift in her movements... the true intent

first real damage came from a

left Barrock’s side exposed for a fraction of a second. She committed, driving all her strength into a Voltaic Strike aimed at his floating ribs. But it was a trap. Barrock released his grip on one hammer, letting it swing from a wrist

fingers closed around her wrist like

Overdrive already active, channelled raw energy into her muscles. Instead of pulling back, she surged forward, slipping inside his grasp,