The crowd was filled with anticipation and tension as the final match of the first round unfolded between the Liners and the Last Supper. The Liners were a whirlwind of calculated precision. Their strategy was a masterclass in teamwork—every move seemed pre-planned, every attack a coordinated strike designed to exploit their opponents' weaknesses. They fought with a disciplined ferocity that spoke of long hours of training, their strength a palpable force on the field.
Yet, despite their overwhelming skill, fate seemed not to be on their side. The Last Supper, in a display of what could only be described as sheer, unadulterated luck, managed to pull off a series of improbable dodges and last-ditch attacks.
The crowd held its breath as the final score flashed on the massive screens, and in a moment that felt both anticlimactic and shocking, the announcement echoed across the arena.
[Team Crystals wins Set F!]
The polite ripple of applause for the Crystals' win was still echoing when a woman's calm, clear voice cut through the lingering buzz. It was Miss Samantha, the tournament administrator. "Congratulations to all the winners of the first round!" she announced from the podium, her words carrying easily across the arena. "The sets for the second round are now displayed on the projection, but given the late hour, all remaining matches will be held tomorrow morning. All participants are advised to take a well-deserved rest."
As her words sank in, the arena lights began to dim, a signal that the day's events were officially over. The crowd began to disperse, their chatter shifting from the day's matches to speculation about tomorrow's. The teams, a mix of elation and exhaustion, started making their way off the field. A full night's rest was exactly what everyone needed before facing the next round of challenges.
—
The arena was filled with restless energy as the third day of the tournament began, crackling with the hum of a thousand voices. All eyes were on the holographic leaderboard, where the remaining teams were set to clash in the semi-finals and finals of the first game. The tension was palpable.
The previous day's second round had been a proving ground. Our team, riding the momentum of our earlier victory, had faced off against the Mockingbird team. The match was intense, a flurry of strategic maneuvers and action. Unlike our earlier opponents, they didn't underestimate us—we earned our victory, and it felt powerful, ending in a swift 18 minutes.
"Now," Miss Samantha's voice boomed over the speakers, cutting through the murmuring crowd, "the sets for the semi-finals are displayed on the hologram projection!"
A blinding burst of blue light shot from the center of the stadium, forming a stunning holographic projection above the crowd. The new matchups materialized in brilliant detail, and every eye in the arena strained to see who would face whom in the next crucial round.
Semi-Finals:
SET A: Holy Knights Vs Sol
SET B: Sacred Nuns Vs Crystals
SET C: Bishops Vs Antlers
SET D: Florals Vs Magnum Imperio
Just as the murmurings began to rise, the game administrator's voice boomed over the speakers, "For the next round, Team Naomi will automatically pass the semi-finals and advance to the finals because they are the group that finished the first and second round with the fastest time!"
My jaw dropped, but before I could even process the news, a familiar hand messed up my hair. "Wow! My Sari is awesome!" Athena's voice was filled with a teasing pride as she rubbed my scalp.
"AAH—my hair!" I gasped, swatting at her hands. But she ignored me, continuing her playful antics, leaving my carefully styled hair in a chaotic mess.
"You guys should avenge us with the Holy Knights!" she said, a mischievous grin on her face.
I grumbled, trying to fix my hair with my hands. "What? The winners of the semi-finals haven't been announced yet, and you're already acting like we're going to beat them?"
"Ehh, I still believe in you guys," she said, her smile unwavering.
Suddenly, a voice, quiet and deliberate, broke into the playful chatter. "I... Actually, thought of a plan," Marco suggested, his gaze fixed on the hologram projection.
"Oh! Nice! People, listen, he only spoke once in his life," she joked, and a round of chuckles was heard from our small group. We all quickly sobered up, huddling closer to hear Marco's rarely heard but always insightful thoughts.
[Third Round:]
[SET A: Holy Knights Vs Sacred Nuns]
As the Holy Knights, clad in gleaming gold and silver armor with intricate designs, entered the arena, their presence was a testament to their unwavering discipline. The sleek lines of their suits accentuated their athletic physiques, each piece of armor sculpted to move with their bodies. They moved as one, each step precise and synchronized, their weapons bearing their sigil.
But the Sacred Nuns were a paradox of divine grace and deadly precision. Their habits, typically symbols of modesty and piety, were reimagined into sleek, form-fitting uniforms of midnight black and stark white. These garments, while stylish and revealing, were woven with consecrated threads, allowing for an unhindered range of motion and providing surprising protection against both mundane and mystical attacks.
Their weapons were extensions of their faith, each one a unique manifestation of a specific divine skill. Their true power, though, didn't come from brute strength or advanced technology. It was born from a deep, unshakable faith that transformed their movements into a sublime, almost mystical dance. They moved with the fluid grace of water flowing around—each step, each parry, each strike was an act of pure, unadulterated devotion. They were a living testament to the idea that faith, when truly embodied, could be the most devastating force of all.
The battle began with a clash of ideals. The Knights' coordinated charges were met with the Nuns' graceful deflections. Sparks flew as steel met their small yet agile weapon, a jarring symphony of might against grace.
After what felt like an eternity, the Nuns' defenses faltered. The last Nun, her robes torn and her weapon splintered, fell to one knee. Arthur lowered his sword, his chest heaving, a look of grim respect on his face. The crowd erupted, a mix of cheers and groans. Marco's quiet prediction had come to pass. The Holy Knights, by their relentless will and a faith forged in the crucible of battle, had won.
[Team Holy Knights wins Set A!]
The weight of the last set settled in my bones as the final horn blew, a deep sound that cut through the roaring crowd. An hour. All the participants have been given an hour of rest, a fleeting moment of peace to recover before the final battle. But my body, still humming with the aftershocks of the previous matches, refused to calm.
A cold dread, thick and suffocating, started to creep over me, seizing my muscles and locking them in a state of paralysis. Every breath felt heavy, and my limbs felt as though they were injected with anesthesia, and I couldn't even feel them there. I didn't think I could even stand up, let alone face the enemy. It felt so wrong, so terribly out of place. We've clawed our way through every round, scraping by with easy victories, somehow passing the Final round against all odds. And for what? To stand at the threshold of defeat, facing off against the legendary Holy Knights. Their title sent a shiver down my spine, a team undefeated and seemingly invincible. How could we, a team of mortals, possibly stand a chance against them? The thought alone was enough to make my stomach churn with fear, and the thought that we should face this now.
"Are you sure it'll be effective?" I asked Marco, my voice barely a whisper. A knot tightened in my stomach at the thought of facing the Holy Knights—the legendary warriors who even defeated Athena's team. A chilling paralysis of fear was already creeping into my limbs, and I prayed it wouldn't seize me completely on the battlefield. I just wish I could overcome this.
"Sari, that's the ninth time you've asked him," Athena chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes. "And he's already told you he isn't sure, but it's all you've got. It just might work." She offered a small, reassuring smile that did little to calm me.
"Hey, Sari, let's make a bet," Stephen proposed, a smirk spreading across his face.
Oh, here we go again. "All right, tell me what it is!"
"If you win the match, you can ask me for a favor—anything you want. But if you lose, you have to do whatever I say. Is that clear?" His tone was light, but his eyes held a serious intensity.
"That's a great idea! It'll definitely help motivate Sari!" Athena chimed in.
Ugh, there was no backing out now. "Hmmm—Alright!" I nodded, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Just make sure you do me a favor!"
"Yeah, sure," he said with an emphasized certainty, the smirk on his face growing wider. It was obvious he believed we were doomed to lose, which kinda irritates me. I want to prove him wrong.
However, I was attentively aware of the vast difference in power between their team and ours. We were going to lose. And though I tried to project an image of nonchalant composure, my insides were a chaotic mess. My organs felt as if they were doing a frightened little dance.
"Sari, what are you waiting for? Get to the waiting room! You're always the last one to leave!" Athena scolded, yanking me up from my seat in the audience. The clamor of the stadium faded as we made our way through the winding corridors backstage.
A deep, resonant voice boomed over the loudspeakers, silencing the gossip of the crowd. "And now, for the battle you've all been waiting for…" Mr. Pecan took a dramatic pause, building the suspense to a fever pitch. "The final set for the final round… Team Holy Knights versus Team Naomi!"
The announcer's words were a gut punch, a harsh reminder of the impossible task ahead.
"Let's go," Ate Clydelle's voice was calm and steady as she took my hand, then Tyler's, and finally Frank's. We entered the large, metallic capsule together. A low hum filled the air as the chamber sealed shut, and a dazzling light enveloped us.
A jolt ran through my body as we were transported to the battlefield. In front of us, holographic screens shimmered, displaying our randomized chess roles, and an assortment of items materialized at our feet.
Frank as the Rook.
Tyler as the Queen.
Clydelle as the King.
Me as the Knight.
"I'm..." I sighed, "I'm ready to make a move." I said, and a sudden urge to get moving, to do something—anything—pushed me forward. But Clydelle's hand on my wrist stopped me.
"Be careful." Her eyes held a deep, unspoken concern.
I offered a confident grin, though I was shaking on the inside. "Don't worry, I'll do it my way."
"Make sure you don't act crazy again," she reminded me, her lips twitching slightly.
I just laughed, pulled my wrist free, and paved my way into the heart of the arena, the fear and anxiety of moments ago pushed down by a surge of adrenaline. This was it.