"I’ll pass," John shrugged, leaning back against the tent pole. "Betting isn’t my thing anyway, and besides, I already know how this ends."
"Start!"
Just as the three placed their bids, the judging teacher gave the command. The mont the order was issued, Alfred took out a heavy armour, a circular shield and a long sword.
He even went so far as to pull on a reinforced helt, his movents frantic and fueled by the sight of Bernard’s unconscious body being hauled away.
"I won’t go easy on you like how Bernard mistakenly did with Luke! I’ve seen your tricks and..."
"Just shut the hell up," Elena interrupted.
Before he could even finish his sentence, Elena activated her speed ability. She moved like a blur, a streak of light crossing the distance while using nothing but her bare fists.
She deliberately avoided taking out her sledgehamrs, fearing that the sheer powers of those weapons combined with her current strength would literally liquefy Alfred inside his armour.
THUD!
A single, muffled strike connected with the centre of Alfred’s shield. To the audience, it looked like a casual punch, but the aftermath told a different story.
The shield buckled inward, the tal groaning as the force transferred directly into Alfred’s chest. He was sent flying through the air, clearing the boundary of the arena and falling below the stage in a heap of tangled limbs and dented steel.
The fight hadn’t lasted more than three seconds: one hit, one flight, one conclusion.
"That was easy," Elena said, rubbing her hands together as if she were cleaning off imaginary dust. She didn’t even look down at the fallen Alfred. Instead, she turned her cold gaze toward the remaining three students in the opposite team who were trembling in the staging area.
"Let give you a piece of advice," she said, her voice carrying through the silent audience. "Luke and I are considered the weakest in our team. We are at the bottom of the barrel. If you really value your lives and want to avoid lying in a grave after this, just save yourselves the trouble and forfeit now."
She didn’t stand there for a single second to see the effect of her words; she didn’t care what they decided. She hopped off the stage and strolled back to her friends, only to find Cissel laughing wholeheartedly while Ricky and Luke wore incredibly gloomy faces.
"What did I miss?" Elena asked, seeing Cissel beaming with delight. When she heard about the bet and the fact that she had ended the fight so quickly led to the boys losing their grenades to Cissel’s prediction, she couldn’t help but join in the laughter.
"Let’s bet on the next match then," Elena said, her eyes dancing with mischief as she looked at the three who hadn’t competed yet. "Who is going next?"
"Ladies first," Ricky said, making the decision by gesturing toward the stage as if he were welcoming a queen. Cissel, currently in a fantastic mood after her win, didn’t object. She adjusted her mask and calmly walked up the steps to the stage.
"They didn’t take my advice, hehehe," Elena evilly laughed. Her provoking words hadn’t actually been ant to make the other team surrender. She wanted to crush any budding idea of retreat; she wanted them to stay and face the full, terrifying reality of the gap between them.
Once Cissel reached the centre of the stage, wearing her black-and-red mask, the entire audience fell into a deep, oppressive silence. The previous two matches had been nothing more than a one-sided show, and that wasn’t at all what the spectators had expected to see from a Backup Team selection.
This should have been a struggle between high-level students, yet for so reason, it felt like watching professional executioners spar with toddlers. The power gap was so imnse that it was almost insulting.
A month ago, this sa audience had watched the brutal fights for these Backup Team seats. They still rembered how hard-fought and entertaining those matches were, and how the current mbers had clawed their way to victory. Seeing those sa elites get crushed in seconds was a phenonon no one had prepared for.
It drove one single thought into the minds of every guest, student, and teacher in the arena: How would this terrifying team fare against the Formal Team? How would they do against the Backup Teams from the world’s top academies?
For a long mont, the seasoned guests could see the writing on the wall. The Azure Academy’s future prestige was being secured in real-ti by these five prodigies.
This realisation made everyone recall the Headmaster’s words about a secret training program. Many turned to eye the old man with curious, hungry eyes, wanting to know the nature of the program that could turn average students into such monsters in re two years.
So even began discreetly dispatching ssengers to their contacts within the academy, demanding more information on this hidden curriculum.
"I can tell you are all just frogs in a well," the student standing opposite Cissel said. He was far more arrogant than both Alfred and Bernard combined, a fourth-year student who had already made a na for himself in the Military Departnt. The look on his face told Cissel he intended to fight with everything he had.
Before the judging teacher could even announce the start, the student touched his storage device and pulled out a piece of heavy equipnt: a cannon usually reserved for fortress defences or big wars.
"The Headmaster said we can use anything, and I selected this," the student shrugged, ignoring the collective hiss of indrawn breath from the audience.
The judging teacher looked at the heavy weapon and could only sigh. He snapped his fingers, and a shimring tallic net rose from the edges of the stage to encompass the arena.
"This will shield the audience from any stray fire, no matter how strong the attack is," the judging teacher looked at the scene with a solemn look in his eyes, knowing this fight was destined to be more brutal than the first two combined.
The presence of a heavy military weapon on a sparring ground had shifted the atmosphere from a competition to a battlefield.
"Are you ready?" He asked, turning his gaze toward Cissel.
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