"Are the coordinates ready?" Ryan asked, his gaze fixed on Krix.
Krix responded with a nod and a smirk. "Yes, Lord. Everything is in place. Afkar has prepared the others for departure."
A thought crossed Krix's mind: Akshran, I'm coming for you.
Behind him, eight others stood, weapons ready, their expressions hardened with determination.
Far from the base, Akshran addressed Anatolia.
"When you plant the flag, don't tell us the location," he said firmly. "Especially because if one of us uses the Last-Minute Rule."
Anatolia gave a short nod. "Got it. Anything else?"
Akshran's eyes glinted. "If you somehow get captured and they interrogate you about the flag's location, feel free to tell them the truth—but make sure to sprinkle in a bunch of made-up traps. That'll keep them on edge."
Anatolia smirked and flicked a finger against his forehead. "Okay, genius."
___________________________________________________________
As Anatolia went planting her flag, Akshran looked at the others sitting in the camp
"Zack, go fetch some water. Tatsuyui and Katryei, stay here. Kanade and Hajaku, keep an eye on the surroundings. Kanjak, assist Zack," Akshran instructed.
Without hesitation, they followed his orders. Akshran then took a moment to have a brief conversation with each of them.
_________________________________________________________
The group had barely gathered again when Anatolia, standing at the center with supplies she'd purchased using the team's initial 1,000 points, began to speak.
"So, every—"
Her words were cut short by the sharp whistle of an arrow slicing through the air. It grazed her shoulder as she twisted away just in time.
"NOT AGAIN!" she screamed, her voice brimming with fury as she unleashed a flurry of fire blasts using her Pyrite. The golden-red flames shot out in every direction, scorching the surrounding foliage and forcing the enemy archers to retreat deeper into cover.
"She's pissed," Seri Black muttered, watching the chaos unfold with mild amusement. His gaze then shifted to a towering figure stepping out of the treeline: Ryan Bigman.
"I'm supposed to fight the main guy? Ugh, this is boring," Seri said, stifling a yawn.
Ryan stepped forward, his greatsword resting against his shoulder, its massive blade glinting ominously. "Seri Black," he rumbled. "Come at me."
Seri stretched his arms lazily, as if waking from a nap. "Evil Cursed Spirit of Darkness," he intoned, extending his left hand as an inky black mist coalesced into a writhing spirit.
"Holy Cursed Spirit of Brightness," he continued, his right hand summoning a radiant, glowing figure.
Ryan shifted his stance, gripping his greatsword with both hands. "Let's get this over with."
"Hey, Ryan," Seri said, his voice unhurried, as if they were chatting over tea, "ever wonder what happens when the Corrupted and the Pure, both of equal power, collide?"
Ryan's jaw tightened. He knew this move well. Class A had studied Class S thoroughly before the match. 'He's using that technique.'
"They don't cancel each other out," Seri said, slowly bringing his hands together. The darkness and light swirled violently, their energies crackling like a storm barely contained. "No, they form a loop. The Holy cleanses the Corrupt, and the Corrupt taints the Holy. Over and over, endlessly. They approach zero but never reach it, creating a perpetual cycle of decay and renewal."
The energy between his hands grew blinding, a vortex of light and darkness spinning faster and faster.
"And that cycle?" Seri smirked. "It'll condemn you to be purified and corrupted for eternity. Amazing, isn't it?"
With a shout, Seri thrust his hands forward, releasing the spiraling blast. The attack roared toward Ryan, tearing through the ground and trees in its path.
Ryan didn't flinch. Raising his greatsword, he swung it down in a single, decisive motion.
The attack split in two.
The twin streams of energy dissipated harmlessly around Ryan, the once-devastating power reduced to a faint breeze.
Seri's eyes widened, his smirk vanishing. "W-what? That attack should've melted your sword! The energy—how did you—?"
Ryan rested the tip of his greatsword against the ground, his expression calm but tinged with disdain. "Did you really think we'd charge into battle without preparation?" He tapped the flat of the blade. "This is an anti-magic weapon. Even though it nullifies my ability to use magic, it's more than enough to deal with the likes of you."
Sweat beaded Seri's forehead as he took a step back, his mind racing. 'An anti-magic weapon? No way. This is... this is exactly as he predicted. Word for word.'
Ryan raised the sword again, stepping forward with the deliberate menace of a predator.
"Of course," Seri muttered, summoning a swarm of cursed spirits beneath his feet. "Only your sword nullifies magic, not you."
The spirits surged upward, forming a cloud that lifted Seri into the air. With a burst of speed, he shot toward Ryan, weaving unpredictably as the cursed spirits hissed and writhed around him.
____________________________________________________________________________
Akshran stood firm as Krix charged toward him, twin anti-magic daggers glinting in the dappled light of the forest.
"Anti-magic? All of you?" Akshran muttered, his tone calm but laced with irritation. "That Eddie guy really spent a fortune on you lot."
"Not really," Krix replied with a toothy grin, his shark-like teeth bared. "It's borrowed. And it's only good against weak magic—like yours."
The taunt hung in the air as Krix lunged, closing the gap between them with unsettling speed.
Akshran's mind raced. 'Water arrows won't work against anti-magic. I need something more—something sharper.'
His hands moved quickly, summoning three illusionary clones. The clones circled Krix, drawing his attention and forcing him to pivot repeatedly, his frustration mounting.
"You think parlor tricks will stop me?" Krix spat, his daggers slicing through two clones that vanished on impact.
'Got it.' Akshran's eyes narrowed as Krix turned to face the real him.
The sound of drilling filled the air, growing louder as Akshran raised his hand.
"Sa-vru norl: Variation—Water Drill," he said, his voice steady. A spiraling drill of water formed around his arm, spinning with violent intensity.
Krix's smirk faltered as the drill whirred toward him. He raised his daggers in defense, but the sheer force of the water shattered his stance, knocking him off balance.
Akshran closed the gap, the drill driving into Krix's shoulder, sending him sprawling to the ground. The anti-magic daggers clattered uselessly to the side.
Krix coughed, clutching his injured arm as he glared up at Akshran. "You... bastard..."
Akshran said nothing, the water drill dissipating as he turned away, his expression unreadable.
Before the victory could sink in, Akshran heard the shouts and clashes echoing from deeper in the forest. He turned to see Seri, Anatolia, and the rest of Class S engaged in chaotic battles, overwhelmed by waves of coordinated Class A attacks.
"Fall back!" Seri shouted, his usual calm replaced with urgency.
"We can't hold this position!" Anatolia yelled, her Pyrite flames flickering as exhaustion crept in.
Akshran cursed under his breath, grabbing the injured Krix and tossing him aside like a discarded chess piece. "Retreat!" he barked, his voice cutting through the din, from the corner of his eye he could see Takahashi running, not to their base but somewhere else.
The Class S students regrouped, retreating into the dense foliage with their flag in tow. The laughter of Class A echoed behind them, a bitter reminder of their defeat.
"We'll regroup," Seri muttered, his expression grim.
"And then?" Anatolia asked, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and frustration.
Akshran's eyes narrowed, his smirk returning despite the loss.
_______________________________________________
Night had fallen, cloaking the battered Class S camp in shadows. The air was heavy with exhaustion, the silence punctuated only by the occasional crackle of their struggling campfire. They had set up in a remote area, resources sparse, and their Class Points dangerously low—only 400 CP remained after an emergency splurge for supplies.
Anatolia glanced at Seri, her sharp eyes catching the slump in his posture. "Seri, you look... off," she said, her voice a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Seri didn't meet her gaze. "Anatolia, are you sure we're going to win?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"What kind of question is that?" she shot back.
Seri's shoulders sagged further. "We get expelled if we lose," he muttered.
"That's chance," Akshran interjected from the corner, his tone calm but with an edge of detachment.
"STILL!" Seri yelled, his voice cracking through the tense night air. "It's all heavily stacked against us."
"What are you on about, Seri?" Anatolia snapped, her temper flaring.
Akshran's eyes narrowed as he observed the exchange, his posture shifting ever so slightly. 'This is it,' he thought, the faintest glimmer of anticipation crossing his face.
Seri's next words shattered the uneasy silence. "I'm going to use the Last Minute Rule."
"What did you just say, you bastard?" Anatolia's voice dropped into a growl, her eyes blazing with fury. The air around her seemed to shimmer as if the heat of her anger alone could melt the rocks beneath her feet.
"I don't care," Seri said, his voice hollow but defiant. "You guys are weak, and we're losing. They have anti-magic gear, prior information, a tracker on us—everything. It's impossible to win now."
Anatolia grabbed Seri by the collar, yanking him close. "So, you're going to take the coward's way out?" Her voice dripped with venom, her grip like iron.
Before things could escalate further, Akshran stepped in, gently pulling Anatolia back. "Harming teammates will deduct CP," he said, his voice cold and clinical. "Stay within your limits."
"I don't care!" Anatolia shouted, her glare fixed on Seri. "That bastard is planning to betray us!"
"At least he's telling us he's betraying us," Akshran replied, his tone unsettlingly casual.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Anatolia barked.
Akshran's gaze turned sharper, and his voice dropped to a low murmur. "Have you seen Takahashi lately?"
Anatolia froze, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "You mean...?"
"Exactly," Akshran said, his lips curling into a faint smirk he didn't bother hiding. "Takahashi's already betrayed us."
Anatolia's jaw clenched, her mind racing. "How? When?"
"Most likely, he found the admin earlier and made his move. Who wouldn't want a guy with infinite storage on their side?" Akshran chuckled, his amusement uncomfortably clear.
Anatolia stared at him, her frustration bubbling over. "You're enjoying this," she accused.
Akshran tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable except for the glint in his eyes. "Observing human nature is... fascinating."
'He's insane,' Anatolia thought, swallowing hard. 'Batshit crazy.'
Seri's voice cut through her thoughts, loud and unrepentant. "HEY ADMIN! I WANT TO BETRAY MY CLASS!"
In an instant, the air shimmered, and Chatticus GPT materialized before Seri, his mismatched eyes glinting with curiosity. "Oh, interesting. Let me just check with Class A."
In Class A's camp, Ryan Bigman stood near their flag, idly sharpening his greatsword. When the message from Chatticus came through, his movements paused.
"What? Seri Black is betraying Class S?" Ryan muttered, his shark-like teeth grinding slightly in irritation.
His mind raced. 'This doesn't match Master Eddie's predictions. According to him, the nobles would betray after we defeated them a second time. The weaklings—like Takahashi—should have been first.'
Ryan's lip curled. 'Cowards. I hate cowards. But... I suppose I have to take him in.'
"I accept," Ryan said finally, his voice flat.
Moments later, Seri appeared in front of him, his figure straight but his face pale. He bowed slightly. "Thank you, 'my lord,'" Seri said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ryan's eyes narrowed as he assessed Seri. 'He's not weak, and he's not spineless. What's his angle?'
The night pressed on, the shifting alliances already sowing the seeds for the chaos to come.
____________________________
As Seri vanished into the ether, the glow of his teleportation fading, the remaining Class S members stood frozen in shock. The weight of his betrayal hung heavily in the air, their silence filled with unspoken anger and despair.
Anatolia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as her teeth ground audibly. "Anyone else?" Chatticus GPT asked, his tone far too casual for the tension suffocating the group.
Akshran's voice broke the silence. "If any of you want to leave, now's your chance," he said, his tone calm but unsettlingly indifferent.
"No!" Anatolia snapped, stepping forward with fire in her eyes. "Don't listen to this smartass! None of you are leaving. You're all beneath me, remember? I can crush you like bugs, so don't even think about it!"
Her words rang out like a whip crack, but they didn't have the intended effect.
"Excuse me, sir," Kanjak Diptri's voice broke through, his tone steady. "Zack and I would like to betray."
Zack nodded silently beside him.
"We don't want to stay under a conceited leader," Kanjak added bluntly.
Anatolia's expression twisted into something between rage and despair as her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, slamming her fists against the ground. "DAMN IT ALL!" she screamed, her voice raw with frustration.
Her thoughts swirled in chaotic fragments. 'I was supposed to lead them to victory. What happened? We've lost Seri, Takahashi, and now these two nobodies. Fourteen against six. How did it come to this? DAMN IT ALL!'
Chatticus, ever the observer, turned his mismatched eyes to Akshran. "Have you no feelings?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity rather than judgment.
Akshran's lips curled into a faint smile, his tone light yet sharp. "There was no better way."
"And feelings?" He chuckled, his laughter low and unbothered. "Who cares about feelings?"
Even Chatticus had to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. "You're an interesting one, aren't you?" he said, his smirk widening.
But then his expression turned oddly serious, his voice dipping into something almost sinister. "Let me warn you, though. If I see you winning too easily, I'll intervene."
Akshran tilted his head, unfazed. "Against the rules, isn't it?"
Chatticus shrugged, his grin returning. "Don't care. Cry about it." With that, he vanished, his laughter echoing faintly as he disappeared.
Akshran's gaze lingered on the space where Chatticus had stood, a faint glint of amusement in his dark eyes. 'Huh. You're amusing too, Chatticus.'
Behind him, Anatolia's broken muttering continued, but Akshran simply turned away, his expression unreadable as the fractured remains of Class S steeled themselves for the battles ahead.