Not far away, a man with a pitch-black cane watched them with mild curiosity. "Running for dry land?"

The woman at his side, her lips curled in a faint smile, nodded. "Makes sense. Pre-match intel says Yara and Umar are both melee specialists. This swamp cripples them."

"Patricia," the man drawled, tapping his cane against the ground. "Give them a warm-up."

She smirked, brushed his arm lightly, and with a sharp *buzz*, half a dozen silver drones shot skyward. Their wings whirred as they veered toward the fleeing group.

"Don't let them get too far. Finish this quickly. I want to watch Hollow Fortress later."

Patricia chuckled. "Nothing worth watching there. The real fight's Stormwatch—but lucky for us, they're stuck on the other side of the bracket."

The man gave a noncommittal grunt. "True enough. Though with the Starcrest family backing Stormwatch this year, things could get messy."

His name was Raymond—captain of Cavalier's Honor. A support-type Awakener, ranked top ten, and the only one on his team without noble blood. Short, plain-looking, nothing impressive at first glance.

The first drones screamed overhead. Whrrr—whrrr—whrrr!

Four of the smaller machines opened fire, pelting the swamp in controlled bursts. The shots didn't connect, but they scattered mud and water, breaking the team's momentum.

Then came the bigger ones. Twin cannons thundered, and flames ripped the air as shells slammed into the swamp beside Yara.

Mud and fire exploded upward. She barely dodged in time, the blast wave numbing her arms and legs as she landed hard in the muck.

Focused on dodging and scrambling for cover, none of them noticed the pulse of Force from Axel.

"No. If we keep this up, we'll get hurt. They can just sit back in the swamp, keep firing, then we'll lose anyway!"

Yakov's voice was sharp, and Yara froze, hesitating. He was right—if they could play this game, so could the enemy.

The Cavaliers' Honor squad had no tanks. They were all Awakened, lethal on offense but fragile on defense. But in this damned swamp, with speed restricted and no cover to hide behind, Axel's team were nothing but targets.

"Axel, Yakov—you two push ahead. The rest of us will stick with the original plan. We don't have a choice anymore."

Yara hated the decision, but endless harassment from those drones was a slow death. Doing nothing wasn't an option.

Before anyone could argue, a fresh volley of water arrows came slicing through the air. They barely dodged, mud splattering everywhere, and when they looked up again, the enemy had closed the distance—less than a thousand meters now.

But they didn't advance further. They just hovered there, comfortably at max range. "They're kiting us…" someone muttered. Everyone understood—if Bloodstone pushed forward, the enemy would retreat, all while drones and long-range attacks kept raining down.

"Shit," Richard spat.

Axel's voice cut in, calm but dangerous. "How about I take a shot?"

"What do you mean, take a shot?" Yara said, twisting to look at him.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Instead of answering, Axel rolled up his sleeves. Three compact, dark barrels slid out from his armor, mounted along his forearm.

"Use this."

For Axel, sitting back and eating fire without striking back wasn't in his blood. Yara had warned him before: keep your cards hidden, don't reveal too much too soon. He'd honored that—up until now. But if they kept bleeding momentum, they were screwed. And this swamp was the perfect testing ground for his new toy: a pseudo–B-class Original Instrument. A portable energy cannon.

The enemy hadn't realized what they were walking into. Bunched together, confident in their range advantage, smug behind their drones. Perfect.

"You brought a gun? Fine. Let's see it." Yara waved him on, half-distracted. Honestly, she didn't expect much. Firepower scaled with caliber, and the barrels on Axel's arm didn't look like much. Probably couldn't even take down a drone. Still, better than nothing.

"Axel, be ready. Umar, Richard, once he—"

She didn't finish. Axel suddenly bolted forward.

"Axel! What the hell are you doing? Get back here!"

The cannon's range was eight hundred meters—he needed two hundred more to lock them in. And with his eyesight, he could already make out the smug smirks on the opposition. Especially the woman from their mechanics division—she laughed openly when she spotted the cannon on his arm.

"Cute toy," her expression said.

"Let's see it" Axel muttered.

The instant he fired, it felt like a pump had ripped the Force straight out of his core.

BOOM.

The recoil hurled Axel backwards more than ten meters. His ears rang, his body shook, and for a second he was dizzy as hell.

But across the swamp, a thousand meters away, three searing lances of energy detonated in the middle of the enemy formation.

Axel blinked. "Holy shit… that kick…" He glanced at his meter—over a thousand Force drained in a single shot. At best, he had one more left in him.

Behind him, his team was dead silent.

"What the… what the fuck is that?!" Yakov's voice cracked, his eyes locked on the battlefield. Yara's face had gone pale, disbelief painted across her features. Richard just stood gaping.

On the far side, the Cavaliers' Honor squad had been annihilated. Two were instantly down, critical injuries forcing their ejection by the Landscape Scroll. The survivors weren't much better—clothes shredded, shields broken, Raymond's black staff blasted from his grip. He was coughing blood, barely on his feet.

Patricia, the mechanical Awakener, staggered under her cracked armor, her aura flickering. She shouted, voice breaking with outrage: "This is rigged! That was an atomic cannon! Who the hell is this guy? He's not on any Intelligence Bureau list!"

Raymond's composure was gone, replaced with fury. "A fucking atomic cannon? How the fuck did you sneak an atomic cannon in here? What goddamn family spawned this bastard?!"

The three still standing were alive only because of their protective Instruments. Without them, they'd be corpses.

Raymond's hands shook as he tried to rally, eyes burning with unwillingness. "Can you still fight?!"

Patricia only shook her head, grief-stricken. "Fight? The shields are fried. Three against five? We're done."

"Then why the hell are they running?!" the psychic snapped, his voice cracking into a roar.

By the time Yara snapped out of her daze, she realized this was their golden chance.

As she and Umar closed in at high speed, Raymond's face went dark. If he'd been uninjured—if his Original Instruments were still intact and his Force reserves hadn't been drained resisting that explosion—he would've gladly fought on. But now? He knew it was over.

"Withdraw," Raymond ordered. Patricia gave a tight nod. They were all from noble families; there was no point letting a bunch of civilians beat them bloody when the outcome was already decided.

Just as Yara was about to reach him, Raymond called for retreat. A second later, he, Patricia, and their last teammate vanished in a flash of white light.

"The winner of this match—Bloodstone Warfare Academy. Retreat in ten seconds."

The cold, impassive announcement echoed across the arena as Bradley appeared. He gave the ruling without hesitation, then turned to leave, though a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. Who the hell is this kid? How did he get his hands on something that rare from the military?

......

As Axel and the others faded from the battlefield, the viewing hall outside the arena erupted into chaos.

"Mr. Tristan, you can't just pull shit like this!" Imran snapped, his eyelids twitching violently.

Tristan's normally stern face softened into the faintest of smiles. "Mr. Imran, your students aren't the only ones allowed to use Original Instruments."

"This thing is fucking insane. Don't tell me that's your school's ace in the hole?" Imran's outrage cracked, giving way to reluctant resignation.

Cavalier's Honor was already stuck in an awkward position among the four great academies—outclassed in strength by Eagle's Crest Command and Stormwatch, and still lacking the reputation and firebrand spirit of Bloodstone Warfare. Losing here stung, but at least it wasn't to some minor academy. Imran could still save face.

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