Azrael was not surprised that Oliver could recognize his use of a venue card. After all, the manifestation of Soul Society could hardly be concealed, the massive spiritual structure dominated the entire training ground with its imposing presence.
Just as Azrael prepared to press his advantage and demonstrate the full extent of his enhanced capabilities, Oliver suddenly recalled his cards and burst into hearty laughter.
"Azrael, that's enough," Oliver called out with obvious satisfaction. "Let's end the battle here."
Azrael couldn't help but glance toward Chisaki on the sidelines, seeking guidance about this unexpected development. When their eyes met, the instructor simply nodded with resigned acceptance, clearly indicating that he had no intention of intervening in whatever politics were at play.
After a moment of silent consideration, Azrael also recalled Unohana Retsu and Artoria, their forms dissolving back into his mental space with practiced efficiency.
The abrupt conclusion sparked immediate confusion among the assembled spectators.
"What's happening? Why did they suddenly stop fighting?" one student called out in bewilderment.
"This is ridiculous," another voice complained. "Just when it was getting interesting."
"It looked like Azrael was going to win. Is Oliver scared?" a third observer speculated with obvious disappointment.
Heated discussions erupted throughout the viewing areas as students struggled to understand the premature ending to what had promised to be an exceptional display of Silver-level combat.
Oliver completely ignored the growing commotion and walked directly to Azrael's position with the confident stride of someone accustomed to commanding attention. "Azrael, your strength is quite impressive," he announced with the tone of someone conferring approval. "The Battle Club officially welcomes you to join our ranks."
His manner suggested he was the final authority on such matters rather than a peer offering collegiality.
Azrael raised an eyebrow at this presumptuous declaration. "Does this count as joining the Battle Club?" he asked with carefully controlled curiosity.
Oliver nodded as if the question was perfectly reasonable. "I personally test the strength of every new main member who joins our organization. If they prove mediocre, there's no need for further communication in the future."
The explanation confirmed Azrael's suspicions about the power dynamics within their supposed team structure.
After a brief silence, Azrael smiled with deceptive pleasantness. "How would you evaluate my strength? Am I sufficient?"
He paused deliberately before adding with subtle challenge in his voice, "After all, I wasn't without a chance of victory."
Before Oliver could formulate a response, Sun-Myun, the red-haired member who'd been observing from the sidelines, interjected with obvious smugness. "Tsk, Brother Yu still has a card he hasn't used yet."
However, before the inflammatory comment could escalate tensions further, Oliver raised his hand with smooth authority. "Consider me the loser then. How about that?"
Azrael's expression remained diplomatically neutral despite his internal irritation. "Senior Liu, you're being too modest. This was a draw at most," he replied with a hypocritical smile that concealed his growing frustration.
How insufferably arrogant, he thought with dark amusement.
In his assessment, all four main members of the Battle Club, Oliver included, demonstrated remarkable arrogance that bordered on the absurd. The school had established clear rules: successfully challenging a main member allowed replacement of that position. Yet Oliver had apparently created his own informal hierarchy within the Battle Club that superseded official policies.
If Azrael hadn't performed adequately today, his fellow members would likely have excluded him from future activities regardless of his official status. Moreover, Oliver had initiated this confrontation and then unilaterally decided to end it when the tide turned unfavorable.
Furthermore, if the battle had continued, Azrael felt confident that he wouldn't have been the one facing defeat. After Artoria's venue-enhanced display, she should have been able to match Oliver's forces on equal terms, if not achieve outright superiority.
But I have no interest in playing house with you children, Azrael sneered internally.
Suppressing his contempt, he addressed Oliver and the others with professional courtesy. "Then, seniors, I'll return home first."
Oliver nodded with magnanimous approval. "Just don't forget the practice battle this weekend."
Azrael waved acknowledgment and turned to leave, already planning to distance himself from whatever political games his new teammates seemed determined to pursue.
The Pixar University Battle Club had no official president, at least not currently. Perhaps that position would be decided after candidates for the national competition were finalized. But in Azrael's observation, Oliver clearly regarded himself as the de facto leader.
It seemed that Chisaki had acquiesced to this arrangement before Azrael's arrival.
"So his final Silver-level card must be exceptionally powerful," Azrael concluded with analytical precision.
Otherwise, Chisaki would never have tolerated such presumptuous behavior from a student.
Azrael harbored no interest in pursuing empty titles that offered no tangible benefits, provided the other party refrained from provoking him further. His previous life's university experience had taught him about students who used insignificant authority like weapons, treating minor positions as if they represented genuine power.
Behind him, Sun-Myun stared at Azrael's departing figure with obvious resentment before addressing Oliver. "Brother Yu, this junior doesn't seem to respect your authority."
Oliver watched Azrael leave with satisfaction gleaming in his eyes before fixing Sun-Myun with a pointed look. "If you're Master Lucian's disciple, if you possess his level of talent, you can behave like him."
His voice carried warning undertones as he continued. "If not, shut up. Don't think I'm unaware of your petty schemes."
Sun-Myun's face flushed with embarrassment as he fell silent, clearly recognizing the implicit threat in his leader's words.
Jea-Min, who had remained quiet throughout the entire encounter, pretended ignorance of the tension-filled exchange. "Then I'll leave first," she announced with studied neutrality.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, she departed the mountaintop with brisk efficiency.
Choi-Gyu twisted her golden curls around her finger while addressing Oliver in a coquettish tone. "Brother Yu, look at Jea-Min's attitude, "
"Enough," Oliver interrupted before the complaint could gain momentum. "Don't discuss topics that undermine our unity. As long as someone passes the test, they're one of us."
Choi-Gyu pouted with obvious dissatisfaction but wisely closed her mouth rather than pressing the issue further.
Oliver made no attempt to contact Azrael during the following days, a development that confirmed Azrael's suspicions about his true motivations. The proposed battle during their first meeting had been intended as a demonstration of hierarchy and dominance.
Unfortunately for Oliver's plans, Azrael's capabilities had exceeded his estimates significantly. The moment the venue card manifested, Oliver had recognized the strategic necessity of ending the confrontation before both sides revealed their complete arsenals.
Continuing the battle would have forced both combatants to deploy their ultimate techniques, creating an outcome that would prove embarrassing regardless of who emerged victorious. After all, Azrael was merely a freshman while Oliver was already a sophomore. In six months, the latter would become a junior and face crucial decisions about his career placement.
Better to halt the confrontation gracefully, allowing both parties to maintain face while avoiding definitive resolution.
Unfortunately, some situations developed beyond their participants' control regardless of careful planning.
After their mountainside encounter, strange rumors began circulating throughout the Card Making Department with viral persistence.
"Oliver stopped the fight in time to save the freshman's dignity," some whispered with knowing nods.
"Oliver recognized that his opponent was already weakening," others claimed with false authority.
What could Azrael say about such transparent manipulation?
Of course, some voices defended his performance. After all, he had maintained tactical advantage at the confrontation's conclusion, despite Oliver's unused third card.
But such supportive remarks remained frustratingly rare compared to the coordinated character assassination spreading through student circles.
"There are truly many schemes in shallow waters," Azrael muttered with resigned frustration, rubbing his temples as he processed the situation.
He wasn't naive enough to believe these rumors emerged spontaneously. Someone was orchestrating this campaign deliberately.
"I didn't expect that a small Battle Club would harbor so many political serpents," he reflected with dark amusement.
"I wonder if this was Oliver's idea."
However, Azrael suspected one of the other three main members had initiated this underhanded strategy rather than Oliver himself. Compared to the others, Oliver at least possessed the confidence to confront opposition directly.
But identifying the specific culprit remained impossible without additional evidence.
What's worth fighting over in a minor Battle Club's leadership? Azrael wondered with genuine bewilderment. Such positions won't help anyone secure better career placements.
The situation reminded him of his previous life's university experience, when he'd been fooled into joining a student organization only to discover he was merely unpaid labor. The position had provided no benefits for job hunting, he'd ultimately found work as an artist through his personal painting skills rather than administrative credentials.
Rather than waste time on such petty maneuvering, these students would benefit more from developing stronger cards.
"Forget it. I'll focus on my own advancement," he decided with pragmatic detachment.
After all, many people remained obsessed with interpersonal conflicts. Instead of improving their capabilities, they believed they could achieve advancement by undermining their peers.
Brother, this is the extraordinary world, Azrael thought with sardonic amusement. Here, might makes right.
If the hidden manipulator possessed Gold-level capabilities, no one would dare object if he directly declared himself Battle Club president. But since he clearly lacked such power, he resorted to these pathetic schemes instead.
Suppressing his chaotic thoughts, Azrael instructed one of his ghost soldiers to transport him to the Battle Club facilities.
Today was Saturday, the day Chisaki had arranged for their practice match against Southeast University's Battle Club.
Despite the political machinations and petty rivalries among his teammates, Azrael felt curious about testing his capabilities against students from other institutions. At minimum, the experience would provide valuable intelligence about the competition they'd face during national tournaments.
The ghost soldier bowed respectfully before melting into the surrounding shadows, carrying its master through the darkness toward whatever challenges awaited at their destination.
As the familiar sensation of shadow travel enveloped him, Azrael reflected on the week's developments with philosophical detachment. Politics would always exist wherever humans gathered, but in a world where individual strength determined one's ultimate position, such maneuvering represented temporary obstacles rather than permanent barriers.
Let his teammates play their games of dominance and submission. When the time came to prove their worth in genuine competition, talent and preparation would matter far more than social manipulation.
The shadows carried him forward toward his next test, while behind him, the university continued its familiar rhythms of ambition, rivalry, and the eternal struggle for advancement in a world where power meant everything.