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Chapter 31: The Opening Draw
The skies above Battalion Vanguard Academy burned blue, unmarred by clouds, as the grand arena roared with life. Flags bearing the insignias of various factions flapped from towering poles, and students, instructors, officials, and visitors from all corners of the continent gathered in anticipation. The Fresher Tournament had begun.
A silver platform slowly rose in the middle of the arena, shining under the stadium lights. On it stood a tall woman in a crimson commander's cloak—Commander Voyla, the strict yet beloved overseer of the first-year division.
She raised a single hand, and the noise dwindled into silence.
"Today marks the beginning of a sacred tradition," her voice boomed through the voice projector. "The Fresher Tournament is not merely a display of skill. It is a rite of fire—where potential is tested, where reputations are forged, and where weakness is scorched out."
She turned, motioning toward a long row of seated guests on a marble dais.
"In the audience today are those whose eyes shape our world," she continued. "From the western tech guilds, we welcome Guildmaster Oscar of Gearcore. From the southern dominions, we have High Strategist James of the House of Arrows. And from the north..."
She paused.
"The Caldwell Patriarch Jordan Caldwell."
All heads turned.
Zane, seated with Unit 06 in the waiting tunnel, froze. His eyes narrowed as the screen above displayed the stoic face of an older man in dark robes and a jeweled crest. The symbol of the Caldwell clan.
"…He really came," Zane muttered, voice low. "So, he wants to watch me and Michael… huh?"
Elliot glanced at him. "That bad?"
Zane scoffed. "It's not that. I just don't like being reminded that failure means I'm just a shadow next to him."
Commander Voyla's voice returned. "This year's format is a league style. Each unit will face nine different units. Victory earns five points. A loss earns none. A team loses when all its members are down or unable to continue. After the league, the top four point holders enter the final bracket."
Murmurs rippled through the arena. It was no ordinary knockout tournament—this was war by endurance.
"To begin," Voyla announced, "we will now conduct the draw."
From the side of the platform, a respected Super Rank general stepped forward—a legend of the old vampire wars. He pulled the first name.
"Unit 02 will face… Unit 10."
Another slip. "Unit 01… will face Unit 03."
The tension in the waiting tunnel thickened.
"Unit 06…"
The screen paused dramatically.
"…will face Unit 08."
Zane stood up, stretching. "Never heard of them."
"Don't underestimate," Kayden warned. "We're not unknown anymore either."
Back in the inspector's lounge, screens shimmered to life as the pairings appeared. The large glass table showed Unit 06's name flashing against Unit 08. Inspector Travis, leaning back in his seat with a drink, smirked.
"Well, Leo," Travis said casually, "looks like your freshers are finally in the light. Ready to see them fall apart?"
Inspector Leo, silent at the corner, barely looked up from his academic pad. The hologram of Unit 06 stood before him—six dots blinking steadily.
"They'll surprise you," Leo replied coolly.
Travis laughed. "They better. We don't want them loosing so early."
Leo gave no answer. His eyes were on the screen, watching Kayden stretch his arms, Zane crack his knuckles, and Elliot lean on the wall with quiet focus.
The war had not yet begun, but the battlefield had been drawn.
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