Every year, Snake Academy and Laine Academy battled Siria Magic Academy for first place. Taslonte, though, hadn’t cracked the top three in a decade.

This year Novia was dead set on taking second.

First?

Naturally that was for the Divine College. She wouldn’t dare challenge them.

Not far ahead, Luo Wei suddenly stopped and looked back.

“What’s wrong?” Hol asked.

Hand on her chin, Luo Wei said, “I’m wondering if they’re tailing us to snatch our spoils.”

“Could be. Happened last year,” Hol said, recalling a rumor. “A Middle Division squad got ambushed by five academies in the first round—lost nearly half their points.”

“Last year’s Middle Division is this year’s Senior Division,” Luo Wei mused over the roster. “Their captain now is the guinea—uh, Senior Noel, right?”

Hol nodded. “Yeah. He was captain last year too. If he hadn’t come up with a plan to drag the others into mutual destruction, they’d have struggled to even place third.”

Luo Wei’s interest sparked. “Details. What did he do?”

“Word is he and his teammates fabricated a giant bell on the spot. Sounded exactly like the official bell that signals time.”

“They rang it before the match ended. Everyone thought time was up and rushed to the exit ten minutes early. Doors still locked. They all fell into traps Siria’s squad laid—wolves in front, no retreat behind—got wrecked. Lost their spoils; even their clothes got burned clean off.”

“So this year the organizers scrapped the bell timing—left teams to judge themselves—to stop a repeat.”

Anyone with eyes knew the rule mainly targeted Siria.

Jack exclaimed, “No wonder there was no start signal when we came in!”

Hol lamented, “Such a good tactic—wasted this year.”

Axina scoffed. “Even if it stayed, they wouldn’t fall for it twice.”

“Not necessarily,” Luo Wei said. “Tweak the execution and they still would.”

“How?” Axina looked over.

“Keep the setup, adjust the method.” Confidence radiating, Luo Wei beckoned them closer. “We’ll do this… then this…”

They huddled, murmuring.

In brush higher on the slope, Novia frowned at the five heads pressed together whispering.

“What are they plotting?” a teammate craned his neck, voicing her thought.

Another shook his head. “No idea—but definitely a scheme.”

“Obviously. Siria’s stomachs are full of bad water—they’re brewing something.”

“Are they targeting… us?” someone asked, alarmed.

“Shut up,” Novia snapped. “Eyes on them. Watch what they do.”

“Yes, Captain!”

All four stared wide-eyed, as if they could throw their eyeballs down there.

Through leaves they glimpsed the Siria squad opening packs, trading items, passing small cloth pouches to Luo Wei.

“Looks like they’re shifting spoils.”

“They are. Giving everything to their captain.”

Putting everything on the strongest—crude but secure.

“They must’ve sensed we’re shadowing them,” Novia murmured, frown easing. “Fine. They’ll assume we’ll strike, but the real threat sits opposite.”

Luo Wei would never guess more than one squad planned to hit them. However strong they were, two hands couldn’t beat many.

Still—Novia’s eyes turned.

Unless Luo Wei was staging all this to mislead them.

Scanning, her gaze landed on a boy with pale gold hair and a guileless smile.

During greetings she’d noticed his odd medicinal reek. No sword—just a pot. Likely an alchemy apprentice—and the weakest fighter.

Maybe Luo Wei had put the spoils on him instead.

On the opposite ridge, Snake Academy and Laine Academy squads watched too.

“As primary combatant, the captain wouldn’t haul that weight. It’s on the blond commoner!”

“Focus fire the blond commoner,” Snake Academy’s captain ordered. “Move!”

Storm brewing; wind whipping over the slope.

Ten students raised wands, chanting while charging toward Siria’s squad.

Hidden, Novia’s group kept their eyes glued to the unfolding clash.

Caught in a sudden pincer, Siria’s team startled a heartbeat, then rallied into fierce combat with the two descending squads.

As Novia predicted, Siria fell to a disadvantage. Luo Wei shielded a leather bag, retreating toward the exit under cover of her two female teammates.

“I won’t fall for that,” Snake’s captain sneered. “Get the blond!”

They ignored Luo Wei and hammered Hol instead.

Seeing it, Luo Wei’s face changed; she wheeled back shouting, “Hol! Throw me the bag!”

Hol, without hesitation, sent it arcing—only for Snake’s captain to snatch it midair with magic. Siria’s faces paled.

In the brush, Novia swore under her breath. “I gave them too much credit.”

She’d hoped Siria would slug it out to mutual ruin; instead they folded fast.

If she couldn’t play fisherman, she’d settle for being the sparrow.

“Get ready. The instant Snake acts—we strike their backs!”

“Yes, Captain!”

At the foot of the slope, Snake’s captain opened the bag. Inside: pelts, horns, a heap of odd clay jars and rawhide pouches.

Siria had no standards—just tossing any junk inside.

Too impatient to inspect, he kicked the bag three meters away. “Burn it!”

Wands rose; rows of fireballs formed and hurled at the bag.

“Now—go!” Novia hissed.

“Yes!” Taslonte’s squad surged downhill, wands lifted.

In the chaos someone shouted, “Protect your eyes!”

Siria’s five whipped out black sunglasses, slid them on, and clamped handkerchiefs over their noses.

Boom—

The leather bag detonated—black‑red potion and the anal glands of a Bloodthirsty Weasel, packed in a water bladder, ruptured. Fetid, acrid vapor billowed through the crowd.

“My eyes!”

The toxin blinded every unprotected “lucky” soul.

Taslonte’s squad had only reached mid‑slope when the reeking cloud mushroomed upward. Novia’s voice went sharp, “Fall back! Trap—retreat!”

They scrambled, half‑tumbling upslope, nearly blinded.

Within the murk, Hol and Jack—sunglasses on—worked the chaos, stripping enemy bags. Axina then swept everything with wind magic, flinging the haul over a distant cliff into the deep pool below.

They hadn’t destroyed the spoils—they’d only tossed them into water. Anyone who wanted them could dive. If they couldn’t fish them out—well, not Siria’s problem.

The sky darkened; clouds pressed low; fine rain began to fall.

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Siria’s five grinned freely. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”

In the brush, Taslonte’s squad looked from the departing five to the crawling, groping, half‑blinded attackers.

They swallowed in unison.

Brutal. Absolutely brutal.

Good thing they’d pulled back in time.