WNFF 19🍒

Released on June 15, 2025

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When I realized it was Tession speaking, I was suddenly lost for words. His face held an expression I’d never seen before—something complicated, like he didn’t know what to do.

“Just a moment,” he said softly, reaching out his hand.

His long fingers nearly touched my silver hair, as if he was trying to catch me—like a kid catching a dragonfly.

I stepped back automatically.

Tession looked shocked. I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. We had ended things cleanly, and I thought he’d moved on.

So I spoke without thinking:

“Is there really anything left between us to talk about?”

At my question, Tession’s face hardened. He spoke quickly and tried to step forward:

“I—It’s not like that. Just a moment—”

Then, behind me, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me close.

“Irene. Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere.”

I turned, and there was Edmond. He was smiling—but his eyes didn’t match the smile.

“Great job in your match. You looked amazing.”

He brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, then pulled me closer. Tession’s reach fell shy.

“Um…thank you.”

“I missed you the whole match.”

He kissed the back of my left hand, gently, but with purpose—I felt his grip tighten.

“Let’s go. We said we’d be alone.”

When he said “alone,” the word sounded heavy—intentional.

“Yes, right,” I managed. “Sorry, let’s go.”

“Come on.”

Edmond’s eyes were dark and fierce—like a warning. He held me close as we walked away. Tession stayed just out of sight; Edmond’s grip on my shoulders kept him at bay.

Once we reached a quieter spot, Edmond’s cheerful face hardened.

“Seriously—what was that guy doing here? He’s not even a tournament participant. How did he get in? Those guards…”

He gently squeezed my shoulders, concern flashing in his eyes.

“Did he do anything weird to you?”

“No, luckily you showed up before we could even talk.”

“That’s good.” Edmond clicked his tongue and hugged me from behind. His warmth was soothing.

“You must’ve been tired from your match, and then he shows up. You did great, really.”

I felt an urge to melt into his arms a bit longer.

“Thank you, Edmond.”

“No problem.”

Then he brushed my hair away and pressed a soft kiss to my exposed neck.

“Wait—here, now—”

“It’s okay. I won’t leave a mark.”

He stayed there for a moment, and when he pulled back, I saw the green sigil on my neck glow darker, then fade.

“What was that? Why did you do that?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Edmond said, smiling—though his eyes were possessive.

“I just didn’t want anyone else taking you.”

Soon, the announcer called:

“Irene Wolfgang and Pierson Venomain, step onto the stage!”

Heat from the torches brushed my cheek; a breeze made my silver hair dance.

“What a match—Wolfgang vs Venomain-branded offspring!”

“Rumor is the sister’s stronger—they say she doesn’t even have special powers, though.”

“But the scoreboard proves otherwise: she’s top of Group B.”

Edmond and I were both sure of passing to the finals, since two winners from each line qualify—and we’d both gone undefeated.

Pierson scraped through, barely making it into the finals, and I was to face him—perfect timing for my revenge.

“Let’s see how strong you are,” I thought, gripping my sword and cooling my mind.

The final prelim match began: I took my sword—stained with my own blood—and rushed toward Pierson.

I slashed his left arm—it bled fast. The venom was in him now.

He screamed in pain, rage fueling his desperate attacks, but his movements were wild and easy to dodge.

“Like my father said: when someone’s poisoned, move slowly and strike the weak points.”

I taunted him calmly as he swung.

“Shut up, you useless worm!” he yelled and charged.

“I’ll cut off your limbs,” I whispered, seeing a clear opening.

I swung at his leg—blood stained the ground. He roared, staggering on one leg.

I moved in for the right arm.

But Pierson’s face snapped into something… twisted and awful: sunken, dead eyes, dried tears, sweat-soaked purple hair. He looked terrifying.

He spat curse words and pulled a metal bead from his cloak, hurling it at my face.

In that split-second, I smelled something… not his blood. I realized his plan and barely managed to slash the metal bead in two—it shattered, splattering dark liquid across both of us.

He screamed, clutching his face.

I stepped forward and delivered the final strike.

He fell, screaming.

A slow, quiet smile appeared on my face.

That was my trump card, and I’d used it to full effect.

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WNFF 19🍒

When I realized it was Tession speaking, I was suddenly lost for words. His face held an expression I’d never seen before—something complicated, like he didn’t know what to do. “Just a moment,” he said softly, reaching out his hand. His long fingers nearly touched my silver hair, as if he was trying to catch me—like a kid catching a dragonfly. I stepped back automatically. Tession looked shocked. I didn’t understand why he was acting like this. We had ended things cleanly, and I thought he’d moved on. So I spoke without thinking: “Is there really anything left between us to talk about?” At my question, Tession’s face hardened. He spoke quickly and tried to step forward: “I—It’s not like that. Just a moment—” Then, behind me, a strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me close. “Irene. Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking everywhere.” I turned, and there was Edmond. He was smiling—but his eyes didn’t match the smile. “Great job in your match. You looked amazing.” He brushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, then pulled me closer. Tession’s reach fell shy. “Um…thank you.” “I missed you the whole match.” He kissed the back of my left hand, gently, but with purpose—I felt his grip tighten. “Let’s go. We said we’d be alone.” When he said “alone,” the word sounded heavy—intentional. “Yes, right,” I managed. “Sorry, let’s go.” “Come on.” Edmond's eyes were dark and fierce—like a warning. He held me close as we walked away. Tession stayed just out of sight; Edmond’s grip on my shoulders kept him at bay.

Once we reached a quieter spot, Edmond’s cheerful face hardened. “Seriously—what was that guy doing here? He’s not even a tournament participant. How did he get in? Those guards…” He gently squeezed my shoulders, concern flashing in his eyes. “Did he do anything weird to you?” “No, luckily you showed up before we could even talk.” “That’s good.” Edmond clicked his tongue and hugged me from behind. His warmth was soothing. “You must’ve been tired from your match, and then he shows up. You did great, really.” I felt an urge to melt into his arms a bit longer. “Thank you, Edmond.” “No problem.” Then he brushed my hair away and pressed a soft kiss to my exposed neck. “Wait—here, now—” “It’s okay. I won’t leave a mark.” He stayed there for a moment, and when he pulled back, I saw the green sigil on my neck glow darker, then fade. “What was that? Why did you do that?” “Nothing to worry about,” Edmond said, smiling—though his eyes were possessive. “I just didn’t want anyone else taking you.”

Soon, the announcer called: “Irene Wolfgang and Pierson Venomain, step onto the stage!” Heat from the torches brushed my cheek; a breeze made my silver hair dance. “What a match—Wolfgang vs Venomain-branded offspring!” “Rumor is the sister’s stronger—they say she doesn’t even have special powers, though.” “But the scoreboard proves otherwise: she’s top of Group B.” Edmond and I were both sure of passing to the finals, since two winners from each line qualify—and we’d both gone undefeated. Pierson scraped through, barely making it into the finals, and I was to face him—perfect timing for my revenge. “Let’s see how strong you are,” I thought, gripping my sword and cooling my mind. The final prelim match began: I took my sword—stained with my own blood—and rushed toward Pierson. I slashed his left arm—it bled fast. The venom was in him now. He screamed in pain, rage fueling his desperate attacks, but his movements were wild and easy to dodge. “Like my father said: when someone’s poisoned, move slowly and strike the weak points.” I taunted him calmly as he swung. “Shut up, you useless worm!” he yelled and charged. “I’ll cut off your limbs,” I whispered, seeing a clear opening. I swung at his leg—blood stained the ground. He roared, staggering on one leg. I moved in for the right arm. But Pierson’s face snapped into something… twisted and awful: sunken, dead eyes, dried tears, sweat-soaked purple hair. He looked terrifying. He spat curse words and pulled a metal bead from his cloak, hurling it at my face. In that split-second, I smelled something… not his blood. I realized his plan and barely managed to slash the metal bead in two—it shattered, splattering dark liquid across both of us. He screamed, clutching his face. I stepped forward and delivered the final strike. He fell, screaming. A slow, quiet smile appeared on my face. That was my trump card, and I’d used it to full effect.