The grand auditorium of the prestigious Academy was abuzz with the murmurs of students and members of the Architect faction, all eagerly awaiting the commencement of the tournament. The air was alive with anticipation, as some individuals chatted excitedly among themselves, while others stood silently, their eyes fixed intently on the stage.
Octavius, lost in thought, turned to Void with a puzzled expression. "I don't get it," he started. "Those guys who tried to kill me are participating in this tournament, but they're not newly admitted students. Isn't that against the rules or something? going on?"
Void, however, was preoccupied, his eyes locked on a group of girls seated nearby, their curves capturing his attention. Octavius noticed Void's distraction and let out a soft hiss of frustration.
As the tournament commencement was announced, a hush fell over the crowd. On the grand stage, a woman emerged from the shadows, her presence commanding attention. With a gentle smile, she raised her hands, and the room fell silent.
"I welcome you all to this semester's tournament," she began, her voice clear and authoritative. "As you are all aware, these tournaments are designed to test your skills, pushing you to grow and improve with each passing semester. The ultimate goal is to identify those among you who have demonstrated exceptional prowess, qualifying you to join the esteemed ranks of our elite students."
"Notice how she has her back facing us while she speaks to the rest of the factions?" Otto whispered to his teammates. They nodded in agreement, their expressions uneasy.
The woman continued, her voice unwavering. "I implore you to do your very best, and if the upcoming task seems impossible, do signify your resignation. With that said, let the tournament begin."
As soon as she finished speaking, the guards stationed at the sides of the stage sprang into action, bringing out a collection of ropes.
True to Erick's words, the first task was indeed the "Thread of Fate." However, what Erick hadn't mentioned was that every single individual from each faction would be participating.
It was not only a competition against other factions, but also an internal one, where members of the same faction would be pitted against each other to see who would attempt to get ranked higher amongst the others.
As the crowd remained silent, awaiting further instructions, a guard stepped forward, his voice booming across the hall.
"Representatives from each faction, please step forward," he commanded.
Octavius watched as each individual from the other factions stepped forward: the Leviathan faction's representative, a towering hefty figure with skin like dark marble; the Healer faction's representative, a gentle-looking woman with a fierce grin; and the Conjurer faction's representative, a slender man with eyes that seemed to gleam with inner fire.
From Octavius's own faction, the Architect faction, Otto stepped forward, wanting to be the first to attempt the tournament.
Octavius thought it best to observe how the others would maneuver the challenge before attempting it himself. He leaned back, eyes fixed intently on the proceedings, as the guard continued to speak.
The guard instructed the representatives to step forward and grasp the ropes. Octavius had initially assumed the challenge would involve a simple tug-of-war, with the first team to fall losing. However, he was mistaken.
A line was drawn on the ground behind each representative, and the guard explained the true nature of the challenge. "If you can move past the three lines, you will instantly achieve the highest rank," he announced. "However, if you're only able to surpass one line, you will still earn a score. And if you continue to excel in future tasks, you may have the opportunity to rank higher than your peers based on your total score."
The representatives exchanged determined glances, their eyes burning with ambition. "You are all currently ranked E," the guard continued. "But if you can surpass those lines, your score will increase significantly. Moreover, demonstrating exceptional skill in future tasks may earn you a high commendation."
"Let me emphasize that there are benefits to excelling in this tournament. Your performance will be rewarded, and those who distinguish themselves will be recognized. So, I wish you all the best."
With that said, a whistle pierced the air, and the competition began. The representatives grasped their ropes and started tugging. The Levethian faction's representative pulled with brute force, his veins bulging beneath his skin, but he only managed to shift his weight, his feet scraping against the ground.
Octavius's eyes narrowed at that. He had thought the man from the Leviathan faction would be the first to win.
What was it that was holding the rope from the other end, exerting a strength that seemed almost impossible to overcome? He wondered.
The Healer faction's representative, despite her valiant effort, ended up with a handful of bruises, her grip faltering beneath the rope's unyielding tension.
In contrast, the slender man from the Conjurer faction seemed to be employing his magical prowess to aid his pull. His efforts were paying off, as he slowly but steadily inched his way toward the first line.
Otto, on the other hand, grasped the rope a fraction of a second late, but he made up for it with his incredible speed. With ease, he surged past the first line, and as he approached the second, the rope's resistance changed. Instead of bulging under his pull, it began to pull him back, threatening to halt his momentum.
Undeterred, Otto dug deep, maintaining his speed as he struggled to overcome the rope's newfound resistance. The crowd held its collective breath as he fought to make progress.
Finally, the time allotted for the task expired, and the results were announced. Otto stood victorious, his score the highest among the representatives. The Architect faction erupted into jubilant cheers, basking in the glory of their representative's triumph, even though the win wasn't a direct reflection of the faction's collective strength.