[Sia! Can you hear me?]
"Yes, I can hear you!"
Anastasia answered hastily, her voice ragged as she sidestepped an incoming slash. As an archer, close-quarters combat was becoming incredibly tough for her, but through sheer grit she had managed to endure until now, taking down several opponents in the process.
[Good. Gather as many of your squad members as possible and position yourselves at the center.]
"I'm afraid that won't be easy, Amelia," Anastasia replied, panting. "Everyone is scattered across the battlefield, it's near impossible to regroup."
A streak of flame roared toward her, and at the same time, she swung her bow, barely parrying a sword strike. Just as the fireball was about to engulf her—
Splaaash!
A wall of water materialized at her side, extinguishing the flames in a burst of steam.
Right on cue, Amelia's calm voice carried through the bracelet.
[Don't worry. Leave the defense to Aster.]
Anastasia turned and saw Aster a few meters away, body drenched in blood and cuts, yet still standing firm. Her shield arm trembled, but her eyes remained steady. She had singlehandedly drawn enemy fire again and again, her battered form a testament to her resolve as the tanker of their class.
Relief softened Anastasia's tense features. She ran to Aster's side, exhaling in gratitude.
"Thank you."
"Ah… um, n-no problem," Aster stammered, cheeks flushing despite her exhaustion.
Anastasia smiled faintly at her awkwardness. "I'll count on you to hold the line until we gather the archers."
"You can leave it to me," Aster said, voice firmer this time, bracing her shield.
Meanwhile, Nero staggered back, narrowly evading a thrust. He raised his head, and for the first time truly saw the battlefield.
Everywhere he looked was filled blood and ruin.
Bodies of friend and foe alike littered the field before disappearing. Some cadets lay shrieking, clutching mangled limbs. Others dragged themselves through the mud, entrails spilling as they begged for help before ultimately disappearing due to excess pain. The stench of iron and smoke clung to the air like a suffocating shroud.
Nero's chest tightened. Is this war?
For what? A meaningless dispute between two classes? Because one lazy queen had chosen slaughter over responsibility?
The thought sickened him. No justification in the world could make this carnage feel right.
"Do you really have the luxury to drift off in thought?"
CLANG!
A spear flashed, and Nero barely intercepted it with his sword. Jason sneered as he pressed forward, relentless.
Ordinarily, Nero wouldn't even flinch before Jason. In his eyes, not even Lucas could defeat him at full strength, let alone Alberto or the others. But today, he wasn't just facing Alberto. He was surrounded, hounded on all sides by six high-ranking fighters.
Each time he tried to strike one down, the others rushed to cover. Every slash met steel. Every step was blocked.
"Urgh!"
Pain lanced through him as a blade cut across his heel. He dodged the killing blow, but his balance faltered. Jason pressed harder, joined by another swordsman.
This is getting annoying.
Frustration burned hotter than the blood dripping from his leg. He wanted to help his classmates. He wanted to lead them properly. Yet here he was, pinned down, unable to act, unable to undo the disaster his actions had created.
No… there's no choice. I'll use it.
His blessing. His strongest attack. The one thing his Master had warned him never to unleash without dire cause.
But Nero had vowed never to lose again, not since his mother's death. And if breaking that vow meant betraying himself, then consequences be damned.
Mana surged violently around him—
BOOOOOOM!
Before Nero could release it, the earth convulsed. A thunderous explosion ripped across the battlefield, silencing steel and screams alike. Every cadet froze, heads whipping toward the towering dust cloud rising into the sky.
From the haze emerged a single figure, advancing with unhurried steps. A gleaming spear rested in his hand, radiant with light. His eyes, cold and uncaring, swept the field.
It was Lucas.
Just his presence alone sent a shiver through the ranks as they felt his raging bloodlust.
"Let's end this war here."
His words laced with a commanding tone left no room for arguments.
Murmurs rippled, and a few from Class 1-C-8 opened their mouths to protest. But before they could, Lucas's words cracked across the air like a whip.
"Before you go on and try to argue with me, answer me this: is this war truly worth fighting?"
Silence. Even Alberto held his tongue.
Lucas's voice rose, no longer detached but laced with cold killing intent, "This war, this pain, this endless carnage, look around you and tell me you didn't feel that it was excessive. By now, every single one of you must be regretting having to participate in this war right? Forced to wallow in blood of your classmates for the sake of a petty squabble between classes?!"
His words struck harder than the explosion. Students flinched, hearts quivering under the sheer weight of his presence. Some stared blankly, the trauma of the battlefield bleeding into despair. For them, Lucas's words only named what they already felt: this was hell.
"But why should we listen to you?" Alberto finally retorted, defiance sharp in his voice. "Who are you to order us around?"
Lucas turned toward him, indifferent. He didn't argue with him but just slowly raised his hand.
Snap.
BOOOOOOMMM!
Another blast ripped through the plains, carving a crater deep enough to swallow a house. The ground shook, and cadets stumbled to their knees.
Gasps and screams rang out.
Lucas's expression didn't change. "The entire battlefield is rigged with explosives. If you want to keep killing, I'll happily end it for all of us here and now."
The killing intent in his words was so palpable that even Nero realized that Lucas wasn't joking this time.
Then, as casually as if discussing the weather, Lucas continued:
"Of course I am not saying that we give up this fight entirely and I am sure that Drama Queen won't let us off easily if we were stop here."
"""?!"""
Every head snapped toward him. He had just called Yelena, one of the most feared students holding the second highest Authority over the entire Student Body, a Drama Queen. The audacity alone left them stunned.
Unbothered, Lucas continued with his decree. "So here's the compromise: a battle royale. Only those tied to the original dispute between the classes will fight. Nothing more, nothing less."
A heavy pause followed. Then Alberto scowled, but nodded. "...Fine."
He didn't want to agree with Lucas at all but with current situation there is no other way for him but to listen to Lucas in order to finish the task he was given.
He retreated, signaling his troops to recover their wounded.
Class 1-A-1 did the same, Nero leading them silently back to base.
Behind them walked Lucas, uncaring, his spear glinting faintly in the dawn light.
His classmates cast uneasy glances his way. Before, they had only suspected that he was strong but now, they were sure of it.
Lucas was terrifying.
And yet, his intervention brought little comfort. For though the war had ended for now, his conditions made their next trial worse.
Only those involved in the dispute would participate in the battle royale. From Class 1-A-1, that meant Nero, Chase and William. Three fighters.
From Class 1-C-8, it meant seven, including Alberto and all his lieutenants.
The odds were mercilessly stacked against them.