CHAPTER 449: SCHOOL SPIRIT

Shit.

By the third replay, Duchess Amelia was certain that this video was somehow related to their house, especially after asking to see the rest of the footage, where she caught a glimpse of her wheelchaired son from not so long ago.

But they didn’t dare make it obvious. They couldn’t exactly admit to their original plan—or Luca’s past condition.

They all tried to scrutinize the video for any hint of the crystal seed. But it wasn’t visible. Not clearly. The footage only caught partial figures. And that was also why Eden hadn’t flagged it as threatening before.

Now though? The context changed everything.

They’ve been looking for any clues about those missing people, only to find this here, of all places.

But what does this incident have to do with the crystal seed?

Duchess Amelia was stuck thinking about it, but figured she could tell Luca about this later, provided they get out of here unscathed.

Meanwhile, Cece looked at the video again and couldn’t help but think that the small figures looked suspiciously familiar.

And they were for maybe, if they had gotten a better picture, or if those on the video hadn’t carefully angled themselves, then perhaps she would have been able to recognize those tough buggers.

While the adults were sifting through disturbing footage and unlikely theories, the students back at the temporary hall had grown restless.

Thankfully, their instructors—sensing that the idle mood might soon turn to collective chaos—decided to distract them with something else: a projection of the Astral Cup.

It was Luca’s first time actually seeing it. He knew about the tournament in passing, but this was the first time he’d sat down to watch. The Astral Cup had started the previous year and was scheduled to end just before the Guild Expo. It was apparently famous for its high-impact competitive mecha matches and even more famous for the participants and generous rewards.

The moment the screen lit up, the sounds of fighting were deafening, even through the speakers. A blinding flash of light erupted from the screen as two mechas collided midair, swords ringing like war cries amidst colliding artillery shots.

"Whoa, it’s intense again this year," Ollie whispered beside him.

And close by was a terrifying figure: a Basilisk-like creature, mutated and corrupted, its body covered in glowing black crystalline fragments. It slithered with unnatural speed, its hiss sending shivers down the people in the audience who were similarly watching the same footage.

The combatants in focus were teams of three, each mecha a brilliant contrast of colors and weaponry. One wielded a particle hammer. Another danced across the battlefield with twin sabers, spinning like a top as it slashed through crystalline scales.

But this wasn’t just a fight against the beast.

It was a frenzy.

Teams fought not only the Basilisk but also each other, scrambling to deliver the killing blow and secure the mutated crystal core embedded in its head. Every move had to be calculated: too slow and you’d get eaten; too fast and you’d get stabbed by someone else’s ambition.

A massive halberd swung, missing its mark, and cleaved through another mecha’s arm. Sparks flew. Systems flickered. And still the serpent hissed louder.

The view shifted to a sniper mecha on the ridge, charging a railgun.

"Down!" a commentator screamed.

The shot was fired.

It hit.

The crystal cracked.

But before anyone could retrieve it, another mecha launched a spear through the air, impaling the serpent’s skull and claiming the beast’s core.

Luca, eyes wide, watched in rapt fascination.

"Wait..." he whispered, slowly looking around.

Some of the students watching were not just invested—they were on edge. A few even had that twitchy, worried look that only people with heavy investments, whether emotional or financial, would sport.

It wouldn’t have been something he’d noticed if not for a group of students who looked like they were about to wail at that sudden kill steal.

Luca leaned in. "Brother, I think some of them are our schoolmates."

Ollie nodded slowly. "I think so, too, brother. Ironically, the members of the Silver Serpents were fighting a basilisk."

And suddenly, the hall felt a lot smaller as people started standing up or sitting down in distress.

The students watching the projection let out a collective groan.

"That was Ivan’s kill!" someone muttered bitterly.

"But it’s fair game," another student whispered back. "No such thing as fairness in the Cup. If you’re not fast enough, someone else will take the core."

Luca turned to Ollie, curiosity sparking. "Brother, what exactly is going on?"

The blonde adjusted in his seat and sighed, leaning forward slightly as if trying to explain a horror story. "This mode is brutal—it’s one of the infamous Harvest Matches. Teams scramble to collect the highest number of cores within a set time limit. The bigger and badder the creature, the rarer its core, and the more points it’s worth. But here’s the kicker: it’s not enough to just fight well. You’ve got to actually get the core—or steal it."

Luca frowned. "So it’s not just about fighting well—it’s about stealing the last blow and the actual crystal core?"

"Pretty much," Ollie nodded. "There’s a reason why this mode is so controversial. And the school is lucky this year—the Silver Serpents actually made it to the finals."

"That’s rare?"

"In recent years, yes. Most guilds only participate when they’ve got a star lineup. Last year, guilds from our school didn’t even make it past the third stage. We collapsed under the pressure once the other species joined the match."

Luca blinked. "Other species?"

"Yeah," Ollie said grimly. "There isn’t a race restriction, so those from other races—those with innate abilities—get to use their powers. We rely heavily on mechas. So if you’re up against those with unpredictable abilities, good luck."

Luca narrowed his eyes. "But...don’t humans have abilities too?"

Ollie scratched his head. "Yeah, but it’s rare now, brother. Most humans who have other abilities either hide them, can’t use them freely, or just didn’t join the Cup because they’re not students anymore."

"Xavier, and Papa—"

"Exactly," Ollie said, gesturing to the screen. "That’s why I think it’s a numbers thing. The ones who do have them are usually in active duty and are definitely way too old to join."

As if on cue, the battlefield shifted.

A section of the terrain suddenly collapsed—someone had triggered a localized quake. Vines burst from the ground, coiling around one of the retreating mechas.

It was Ivan.

He twisted in the grasp of mutated foliage, sharp crystalline thorns digging into his armor. His teammates tried to reach him, but the terrain shifted again, a pulse of light rippling from a floating caster unit.

An oddly shaped mecha, that didn’t really look like one, hovered above, guiding swarms of fauna to break through human formation lines. It was an ambush.

"They’re targeting the humans now," Ollie said tensely.

Ivan shouted something into his comms and activated an overdrive module. His mecha began glowing, energy shields sparking as he boosted forward.

"Run!" he yelled to his team.

They hesitated, but he forced the terrain apart with a charged explosion, launching his teammates out of the trap. His own systems flickered.

The last image the screen caught was Ivan surrounded, blades drawn, fending off attackers alone.

The audience watching in the hall was silent.

Luca’s hands curled into fists.

He didn’t know Ivan personally. But the expression on his face after his elimination—calm, determined, sacrificing—was one Luca knew too well.

He glanced around the hall.

And found most people with unsettled expressions.

How come they didn’t just compete with basketball? And have they figured out a use for contaminated crystal cores?