Three days passed as if in a blur, and soon the day of the Class Match arrived. The usual schedules for Class A and Class S were canceled, their classrooms buzzing with anticipation for the event that would determine much more than just pride.
As the students filed out toward the match grounds, Takahashi Ouma trailed behind the others, his steps unhurried. Ranked 30, he was neither exceptionally strong nor particularly clever. His presence in Class S was a point of contention among his peers—many whispered that his sole saving grace was his ability: Dimensional Storage.
The ability was absurdly powerful. With a simple touch, Takahashi could store any object, no matter the size or weight, in a pocket dimension accessible only to him. The utility alone had earned him a place in the prestigious class, but even he felt the weight of the unspoken judgment from others.
As he approached the hallway's corner, Takahashi felt a firm grip on his arm. Before he could react, he was pulled aside.
"Wha—" he began, but his words faltered as he turned and saw the figure standing before him.
Akshran.
The boy's expression was calm, a faint smile playing on his lips, but his sharp eyes held a calculating glint that made Takahashi uneasy.
"Takahashi-san," Akshran said, his tone warm, almost friendly. "Could I borrow a moment of your time?"
Those kind eyes, paired with that disarming smile, sent a chill down Takahashi's spine. 'This guy is up to something,' he thought, his instincts screaming at him to run. But Akshran's grip was firm, and his demeanor gave no room for refusal.
For a moment, Takahashi could only stare, caught between the polite words and the subtle pressure radiating from the boy holding his arm.
"Uh... sure?" he said hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Akshran's smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained unreadable. "Good," he said smoothly, his voice carrying an edge of satisfaction. "I have a little proposition for you."
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Class S and Class A gathered in the Room of Future, a stark, futuristic space humming with faint energy. The walls gleamed with an almost metallic sheen, and glowing hexagonal tiles pulsed rhythmically underfoot, as though the room itself was alive. This was where the students would be transported to the match site.
"Is everyone here?" Seriphina called out, her voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation. She began ticking off names on her clipboard with the efficiency of a drill sergeant.
Meanwhile, on the Class A side, Eddie Voss conducted his own roll call in his usual lackadaisical style.
"Ryan Bigman? Gorilla Singh? Big Blacksmith Guy?" Eddie rattled off, clearly improvising names as he went.
"It's Bill Blackstone," one student corrected with a sigh.
Eddie waved dismissively. "Close enough."
Once both sides had completed their roll calls, Seriphina stepped forward. "Alright, listen up. Before we start the match, we have someone here to explain the rules. Professor Chatticus GPT, take it away."
"Chatticus GPT?" Anatolia raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "What, did his mom throw darts at a keyboard for that name?"
"More like she let her computer pick," Seri muttered, earning a snicker from a few classmates.
Their banter was cut short by the arrival of a teacher who came barreling onto the stage as if he'd just remembered he was late. He wore a lab coat slightly too big for his lanky frame, mismatched shoes—one bright green and the other neon yellow—and his wild, two-toned hair looked as if he'd been electrocuted moments earlier. One eye gleamed green, the other yellow, both astute despite his disheveled appearance. He stood at least six feet tall, but his haphazard demeanor stole any sense of intimidation.
"Ah, students! Hello, hello! I'm Professor Chatticus GPT, your esteemed—if slightly chaotic—administrator for this Class Match!" he declared, his voice brimming with exaggerated enthusiasm as he bounded to the podium.
"You've got to be kidding me," Anatolia muttered, folding her arms.
Chatticus clapped his hands together. "Alright, let's not waste time! Here are the rules. Listen closely, because I don't want to repeat myself... unless I forget what I'm saying halfway through."
A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd, though some students looked visibly concerned.
"Rule one!" Chatticus began, holding up a finger dramatically. "Class S and Class A will be split into two teams—Team S and Team A. Creative, right?"
He gestured to the flags now appearing on holographic displays behind him—one glowing blue, the other red. "Team S gets the blue flag; Team A gets the red. I trust even the colorblind among you can figure out which is which."
"Rule two!" he continued, pacing now like a theatrical performer. "Each team will field a maximum of ten players. That's ten from Class S and ten from Class A—basic math, people!"
"Rule three! The objective is simple—capture the enemy's flag and bring it back to your base while defending your own. Easy enough for even the simplest of minds to grasp. And if you're wondering what happens if both teams swap flags like some weird hostage situation, well, the team that does it faster wins."
Chatticus paused, his mismatched eyes scanning the room dramatically. "And yes, there's a timer—this match lasts three whole days. No bathroom breaks unless you're quick about it."
A few students groaned at the mention of the duration.
"And finally," Chatticus said, holding up both hands as if preparing for a grand finale, "if neither team manages to capture the enemy flag by the end of Day Three, we'll have a tie-breaker. And no, I'm not telling you what it is yet. It's a surprise. A spicy one."
Meanwhile, Eddie Voss rolled his eyes but said nothing, already plotting his team's strategy as the students began murmuring among themselves, preparing for the match to begin.
Seriphina stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as the students quieted. "For this class match, we're introducing a new rule," she announced, her tone commanding.
"The Class Points System, or CP for short," she continued, glancing at both teams. "Class Points can be used during the match to purchase resources, information, or even abilities—though the latter will cost you significantly more."
Some students exchanged curious glances, while others furrowed their brows.
"CP will also carry over into normal classes," Seriphina added, "but it won't be nearly as versatile outside of the match."
"You'll each start with 1,000 CP. However, CP can be deducted, so I suggest you maintain decorum. Misbehavior—cheating, bullying, or anything that reflects poorly on your team—will result in point deductions for the entire class. That means one person's actions will affect everyone."
The murmurs grew louder, a mix of excitement and unease rippling through the room.
"Next," Seriphina said, raising her voice slightly, "you must appoint a Class Leader. This leader will hold your team's flag. The flag is immobile and must be defended by the Class Leader. No exceptions."
She smirked faintly, her eyes narrowing as if daring someone to challenge her next point. "And don't even think about being clever with duplicate flags. Flags cannot be duplicated, bought, or replaced using CP. Nice try, smartasses."
A few chuckles echoed, but the tension remained palpable.
"If your flag is captured," Seriphina continued, her tone growing serious, "the match does not end immediately. The opposing team has the chance to retrieve their flag before the three-day limit."
Eddie Voss stepped forward, his smile smug as he added, "But if the enemy keeps your flag until the time runs out... well, good luck explaining that to your classmates."
The students leaned in closer, their curiosity mounting as Chatticus GPT suddenly burst into action, rubbing his hands together with manic energy. "And now, my favorite part—Special Rules!"
He beamed, his mismatched eyes gleaming as he took center stage. "Introducing the Last Minute Rule! This is for the cunning, the desperate, or maybe just the opportunistic among you. If you think your team is going to lose, you have the option to betray your class and switch sides."
Gasps rippled through the room, and Chatticus raised a hand to silence the murmurs.
"Of course, there are conditions," he continued, pacing theatrically. "First, you must notify me—the Class Match Admin—of your intention to switch sides. You'll also need to provide a reason for your betrayal. I'll then inform the opposing class leader, and if they approve, congratulations—you're now part of their team."
"And here's the kicker," he added, grinning wickedly. "Your betrayal will not be disclosed to your original class. Once approved, you'll be teleported to your new team and bound by loyalty to them for the remainder of the match."
"Why would anyone do that?" someone muttered.
Chatticus pointed in their general direction as if he'd anticipated the question. "Simple. If your new team wins, you're safe. If they lose, you'll be allowed to return to your original class after the match—but not without paying a penalty. That's you have to pay 1000 Gold, yes real life money, to survive,"
He straightened, his grin widening. "And now for the stakes. The losing class faces three penalties. First, certain members may face expulsion based on their performance."
The room froze at the word, the tension now thick enough to cut with a blade.
"Second," Chatticus continued, "the losing class must surrender 25% of their monthly Class Points to the winning class. And third, of course, they get demoted. I hope you're all ready to fight for your rank."
The word expulsion struck Akshran like a jolt. His initial plan to stay quiet, play the background, and let the chaos unfold around him suddenly seemed far riskier. His cadet rank was on the line, and if he underestimated this game, he could lose far more than he was willing to risk.
'Looks like I'll have to take this more seriously than I thought,' he mused, his expression unreadable.
His gaze shifted to Seri, who was lazily nibbling on a piece of candy, clearly unbothered by the mounting stakes.
"Seri-chan," Akshran said, his voice calm but purposeful. "Wanna talk?"
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'This ball... or whatever this ability is,' Akshran mused, his thoughts flickering like an outline in his mind. 'Does it activate at its own will? Randomly appearing mid-conversation, like some unpredictable parasite?'
Moments earlier, he had absorbed the black orb hovering around Seri. But the results were underwhelming—no grand surge of power, just fragmented knowledge about cursed spirits.
'They can see invisible objects, store items, and hide them... useful, but hardly groundbreaking.' Akshran's lips pressed into a thin line as he stored the information away for later.
"The Class Match," Chatticus' voice boomed, shattering Akshran's thoughts like a hammer to glass.
The students from Class S and Class A stood on two massive glowing circles etched into the floor, the intricate runes beneath them pulsating with an otherworldly energy. Chatticus stood between them, his mismatched eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Begins NOW!" he declared, slamming his hand onto a glowing panel.
The circles flared brilliantly, and in an instant, the two classes vanished in a dazzling burst of light.
The match had begun.