(Continued Mia frostines POV)
After my formal introduction to the War Council, I expected a strategic eting, intense discussions, maybe a drawn-out debate over deploynts and upcoming offensives. What I did not expect... was Commander Rurik Halegrave spinning a wooden wheel like a child at a sumr fair.
Even the discovery of the Rank-Up potion had changed the battlefield drastically. Where once S-Rankers were hailed as legends, almost divine in power, they were now... common. The potion had allowed many A Rank individuals to leap past their limit. The Authority grew stronger, and so did its armies. But this also ant the battlefield had beco even more brutal.
Then started listing the matters at hand the delta outpost with imminent threat, the gates and also read out a report that had a detail of their last mission to stabilize a high threat gate after that he laid the spinner on the table
The nas on the spinner
Not military operations. Not threat levels. Not zones of deploynt.
Children’s gas.
"Commander," I blinked, trying to mask my disbelief, "is this how we decide assignnts?"
Valen Drazmir gave a slight smirk from across the table, one hand calmly folded under his chin. "It’s tradition," he said dryly. "So of us have seen too many real wars. This... keeps things interesting."
"Interesting," I muttered under my breath, glancing around. Seraphine shrugged as if to say you’ll get used to it, while Nock chuckled from his massive seat, tapping a reinforced tal knee with rhythmic patience.
Commander Rurik, still grinning with the mischievous energy of a teenager, flicked the spinner once with dramatic flair. It spun with speed, the pointer blurring as the wooden wheel whirred and clicked. My eyes scanned the options written in chalk on its surface:
Tag. Hopscotch. Hide and Seek. Duck Duck Goose. Dodgeball.
What even was "Duck Duck Goose"?
Please, not that one. Please, anything but..
Click. Crack crack throttle
Tag.
I exhaled a soft breath of relief. That one, at least, sounded simple enough. I didn’t know the exact rules, but I understood the premise—run, chase, tap soone. Seed straightforward.
Then I rembered sothing.
I had never played it.
Not once.
When other kids were outside laughing and jumping around, I was training. My father—strict and thodical—had set my path early. Combat drills, etiquette lessons, mana refinent sessions. No room for gas. No room for joy. I had always believed it was worth the sacrifice.
Until now.
Rurik clapped his hands. "Alright, it’s settled. We play tag. No leaving the building. One hour ti limit. No arts or magic, except for movent skills."
"Wait—" I began, rising from my seat.
Too late.
A hand tapped my shoulder.
"You’re it," Rurik said, already halfway to the corridor. The commander was it as the one who spun the spinner but imdiately took advantade of my deliema.
He didn’t even explain the rules properly. He just... ran.
The rest scattered with terrifying speed. Valen vanished into shadows, Ilyra flickered out of view in a shimr of ti-distortion magic. Even the assistants and guards stationed in the building didn’t flinch. This was normal. This was routine.
"I... what?" I muttered, stunned.
Then I snapped out of it. No ti to sulk.
If this was my initiation, so be it.
I dashed after them, activating Haste Step, a basic movent art I’d honed during my days at Eldoria. The halls of the War Council Headquarters were vast and complex, with dozens of rooms and long corridors. I scanned for movent, traces of mana, but I couldn’t sense anything. Nothing.
They were fast. Too fast.
This wasn’t a ga.
I sprinted through the east wing first, opening doors, checking eting rooms, even briefly peeking into the archive hall. Empty. The west wing? Sa result.
My pride took a hit every ti I kicked open a door and found no one. They were toying with . I had underestimated them. I assud my youth and stamina would grant the edge—but they were seasoned hunters, commanders who had spent years perfecting concealnt and movent through high-tier dungeons and battlefields.
Still, I refused to give up.
This was about more than a ga.
If I won—if I impressed them—I might get to choose my deploynt. And if I chose my deploynt, there was a chance I’d be stationed closer to Zero.
He’d likely join the army soon. His parents had recently risen to lead a gold-grade guild. There was talk of their involvent in the upcoming mobilizations. Knowing Zero, he wouldn’t stand by while others went to war. He’d throw himself into the storm just like he always had.
And I wanted to be near him.
Not because I needed to protect him,
But because...
I wanted to stand beside him.
So I kept running. Through silent corridors. Down staircases. Up hidden passages I hadn’t even known existed. One assistant directed toward the war room with a smirk, clearly in on the joke. Another hallway led to the training arena, but it was dark and empty.
I checked the dical bay. The ss hall. Even the observation deck.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No laughter. No mana trace.
Had they hidden outside the building? But Rurik had said—
No leaving the building.
I sighed, panting slightly, sweat lining my brow. My legs burned. The soles of my boots ached from the constant impact on marble floors. Ti ticked by in silence.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Forty.
Still nothing.
By the fifty-minute mark, I gave up on searching. My pride was bruised, but my curiosity now outweighed it. They had to be sowhere obvious. Sowhere so obvious I wouldn’t even consider it.
The only place I hadn’t checked?
The council hall.
The one room I had assud they would avoid.
With a deep breath, I made my way back.
And sure enough...
As soon as I entered the hall, I was greeted by the sound of slow clapping.
Valen sat calmly in his seat, sipping tea.
Rurik leaned back, arms behind his head, grinning ear to ear. "Newbies, why do they always fall for the trap,"
Seraphine raised an eyebrow and smirked. " Not though,"
Ilyra was reading a tactical report, legs crossed on the table, "Well well, sobody needs a reminder and everyone here rember you almost ran away"
"Nope, I was just checking if anyone was cheating."
"Haha, sure you didn’t try to run away?"
"Congratulations," Rurik said, cutting the argunt. "You passed."
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