Once the bell's sharp, ringing tone echoed across the academy grounds, its final, echoing note a command, everyone surged back to the central field. The orderly lines of students from the lunch break dissolved into a rush of bodies, a cacophony of footsteps and eager chatter.
The air, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and lingering paint, vibrate with renewed energy. Hovering bots, efficient and silent, glided across the turf, their specialized cleaning mechanisms quickly erasing the splotches of paint, leaving the field clear and ready for the next game.
The expansive green, once a chaotic canvas, was once again clean and empty, awaiting the next wave of competition. Students began to fill up the designated areas, forming clusters around their respective team banners.
Trixtan, however, seemed to move with a slight hesitation, a rare moment of discomfort shadowing his usually exuberant demeanor.
