"Ugh, they're at it again!"
In the sprawling estate, numerous fresh-faced boys and girls dashed out of buildings the moment the explosion occurred, staring at the collapsing low-rise building.
The cause of the destruction? Two star armor pilots furiously trading blows, their clash wreaking havoc on everything nearby.
"They finally started fighting again. When was the last battle? Three days ago? This gap feels shorter," a boy muttered, dissatisfaction evident in his tone as he watched the duel unfold in the sky.
"Ugh, I miss the peaceful days from a year ago. How long are they going to keep this up?" While most residents watched the spectacle with keen interest, a few expressed displeasure.
These were the "senior" residents of the estate, nostalgic for the tranquility they'd enjoyed before Genos Douglas, the bringer of chaos, arrived and disrupted their peace.
But those peaceful days were gone for good. The estate had become a battlefield, with fights breaking out at any time. Residents constantly had to stay alert to avoid stray attacks and hospital visits.
Some had even considered moving out. After all, every Douglas family member had substantial wealth. Establishing a new home in the capital would have been an easy task.
However, the family had issued a strict order: no one was allowed to leave the estate unless they'd earned a high school diploma and were ready to head to the Empire's battlefields.
"Forget it. That life is gone," a young man replied to his companion's complaints, shaking his head.
"Why?"
"Look around. Over the past year, our ability to adapt to sudden danger has improved significantly. Imagine how much this skill will help us survive on the battlefield."
"The family is using these prodigies' training to prepare us for war, ensuring we can survive when we're sent to the frontlines. It's a harsh but thoughtful strategy."
"Even if I understand their intent, living on edge every day is exhausting," a girl said with a hint of embarrassment. She recalled the time a battle had spilled into her bathroom, forcing her to hurriedly don her star armor to avoid an awkward situation.
"If you're still tired, it means you haven't fully adapted yet. You'll need more time. My dad says stray bullets and shockwaves on the Empire's battlefields are even worse. What we're experiencing is child's play."
"Stop debating. The fight's over."
A figure plummeted from the sky, leaving a charred streak across the once-pristine lawn, creating a trench over a hundred meters long.
"Ha! More of the lawn's been ripped up. The groundskeepers are going to lose it," a girl giggled, pointing at the exposed black soil.
"Don't worry. The lawn's been torn up for a year, and the groundskeepers are still here."
"Robert, you lost." The victor, a girl clad in sleek purple-black star armor, hovered over the bloodied and defeated boy. Surrounding her were floating weapons that accentuated her triumph.
"Well, I'm screwed," Robert sighed, accepting his fate. He knew Muria's philosophy: the capable earn privileges, while the incapable are punished.
"Good. You get to choose: head or feet," Betty said, landing gracefully, ready to claim her victor's rights.
"The head. I tried the feet last time, and it wasn't pleasant," Robert replied, deactivating his star armor with resignation.
"You chose it. Don't blame me later."
With a smirk, Betty grabbed Robert by his messy, sandy hair and began dragging him toward the training grounds.
The sight of a confident, armor-clad girl pulling a dejected, handsome boy across the lawn, leaving a trail of blood behind, was striking enough for the onlookers to grab their communicators and record the scene.
"Another humiliating moment for the books," Robert muttered, covering his face. Though this wasn't the first time, he didn't want to leave too many black marks on his record.
…
"Master Genos, the Star Armor Pilot Tournament is about to start. Of the 13 trainees under your tutelage, seven are eligible to compete, bringing the total to eight, including yourself," the family butler, Pais, informed Muria, who was calmly enjoying tea.
"Okay," Muria responded indifferently, his focus no longer on such trivialities. He had already secured an unshakable position within the Douglas family through his training regimen. Resources were no longer an issue for him.
"The family wants all eight of you to participate. What are your thoughts?"
"Why ask me? Doesn't the family have a think tank? They know the combat potential of my trainees. Can't they predict the likely results based on past tournaments?"
"They have, but the results were so surprising that they sent me to confirm your opinion," Pais explained.
"Top eight," Muria said, setting down his teacup. "One slot per person."
"You're saying all eight of you will secure the top eight spots? That's quite confident, Master Genos!"
"Why wouldn't I be? What did the think tank predict?"
"The best-case scenario matches your prediction: the Douglas family monopolizes the top eight spots."
"And the worst-case scenario?" Muria asked, amused.
"We only take half the slots. The other three families might collaborate to eliminate us if they perceive us as too strong."
"Oh."
…
"Daisy, Betty, Robert…" Muria listed the seven names before him. He looked at the slightly nervous youths and asked, "Do you know why I called you here?"
"The Star Armor Pilot Tournament!" Daisy, Muria's half-sister, blurted out confidently.
"Correct," Muria replied, nodding with approval. Daisy, noticing his gaze, puffed out her chest proudly.
"The eight of us will participate in this tournament. Pais and I have already discussed the family's predictions," Muria said, addressing the group. "The best outcome is that we take all eight top spots. The worst is securing only half."
"The family has such high expectations for us?" Betty asked, her face lighting up with joy.
"You call that high expectations?" Muria gave her a withering look. "That's just their lack of confidence in you."
"But securing half the slots is already historic for the family," Betty weakly protested, lowering her head under Muria's disappointed gaze.
"Don't compare yourselves to past contestants. You've trained with me for a year and still lack confidence?" Muria demanded.
"This tournament's goal is simple: occupy all top-eight slots. I want to turn this competition into a Douglas family internal affair."
"Isn't that too ambitious, brother?" Daisy asked hesitantly, her heart racing at the bold objective.
"Ambitious? This is the result you should achieve based on your abilities," Muria said sternly. "If any of you fail to make the top eight, I'll deal with you personally after the tournament."
"And what's your goal?" Daisy asked cautiously.
"The championship, of course. Who else could it be?" Muria replied matter-of-factly.
"Unless one of you thinks you can beat me?" He scanned the group, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
"If you only use star armor and don't engage in close combat, I think I could try," Robert joked with a grin, raising his hand.
"Get lost!" Muria kicked him without hesitation.
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!]
[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]
[+50 PowerStones = +1 Chapter] [+5 Reviews = +1 Chapter]