A tense atmosphere hung over the clearing as two groups of 50 acolytes stood poised at the base of a towering, forested mountain, 100 miles outside of Utopia City.
The objective was simple: reach the summit and claim the flag that fluttered in the wind, a symbol of victory waiting at the peak. The air was thick with anticipation, every acolyte eager to prove themselves in the upcoming battle.
Leading one of the groups was a striking silver-haired girl, her sharp eyes gleaming confidently. She commanded a force of half-blood acolytes.
"Don't get your hopes up, we will be the winners,"
Standing across the field was a young man with a noble demeanor. He replied with a calm smile, "Well... not this time... you won't."
As both groups eyed each other, mentally preparing for the challenge, the signal was given—a sharp, piercing note that echoed across the clearing.
