CHAPTER 114: CAVALRY CALL

Once the bell’s sharp, ringing tone echoed across the academy grounds, its final, echoing note a command, everyone surged back to the central field. The orderly lines of students from the lunch break dissolved into a rush of bodies, a cacophony of footsteps and eager chatter.

The air, heavy with the scent of freshly cut grass and lingering paint, vibrate with renewed energy. Hovering bots, efficient and silent, glided across the turf, their specialized cleaning mechanisms quickly erasing the splotches of paint, leaving the field clear and ready for the next game.

The expansive green, once a chaotic canvas, was once again clean and empty, awaiting the next wave of competition. Students began to fill up the designated areas, forming clusters around their respective team banners.

Trixtan, however, seemed to move with a slight hesitation, a rare moment of discomfort shadowing his usually exuberant demeanor.

Trixtan was still feeling the lingering weight of his earlier, thoughtless remark to Link, a prickle of genuine guilt. He decided to follow Link, hoping to find a moment to apologize. He wove through the crowd, his eyes fixed on Link’s back. But as soon as he tried to open his mouth, to utter the words of apology, the older students from the white team, all seniors with stern faces and an air of authority, surrounded Link, forming an impenetrable huddle.

They pulled him deeper into their circle, their hushed voices speaking of strategy and concerns, their backs presenting a clear barrier. Trixtan stopped, his hand dropping.

Eirin had watched Trixtan’s brief, thwarted attempt, seeing the way his shoulders slumped just slightly. She considered intervening, perhaps calling out to him, but decided against it. This was something Trixtan had to navigate himself, a consequence of his impulsive nature.

’Coleen’s making me worry,’

Eirin thought, a wave of concern washing over her as she remembered the deeply hurt, almost terrified, expression Coleen had worn after Link’s revelation. The merry atmosphere of the sports festival seemed incapable of touching that vulnerability.

"Everyone, prepare for the battle!" Mr. Blade’s voice boomed once more, sharp and authoritative, drawing all attention back to the stage. He cleared his throat, the sound magnified and thunderous through the loudspeakers. "We will be needing a minimum of 1 group per team and a maximum of 5. However, your points will be divided if you choose to join more groups. I will now be explaining the mechanics of this dynamic team sport," he announced.

"Each cavalry team must consist of four players. Three players form the base, or to be precise, they will be acting as the horses, by linking arms or shoulders and bending over," Mr. Blade began explaining, his hands mimicking the formation. He gestured to a small demonstration group of academy staff, who dutifully arranged themselves into the described formation, showcasing the physical demands of the base.

Eirin looked around, her gaze scanning the white team’s remaining members. There were only a few left, their numbers significantly thinned by the Manhunt round. "The fourth player shall be the rider, the one standing or sitting on the three players’ shoulders," Mr. Blade continued, pointing to the agile staff member who climbed atop the human pyramid. "The main goal is for a team’s rider to snatch the headband off the head of the opposing teams’ riders. As you can see, there are designated points per headband, and it was based on the result of the Manhunt."

Mr. Blade smiled. "Three teams will pass to the next round, so you have to get the highest points in order to stay at the top."

The teenage girl could get the gist of the game, picturing the chaotic, almost gladiatorial spectacle. It sounded like a brutal combination of strength, balance, and agility. But a crucial question remained: who would be the ’horses’ and who would be the ’rider’ for their team? She was the newest, the least experienced in these large-scale games. Would Link pick her? And if so, for what role? The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of apprehension and a strange, budding excitement.

"Now that I have explained the mechanics, I will be giving everyone 30 minutes to form their groups," Mr. Blade concluded, his voice ringing with finality.

Eirin looked around, feeling a momentary disorientation in the swirling crowd of students forming their teams. But Link immediately moved, his hand finding her arm, a surprisingly firm grip that pulled her.

"This will be our main team," Link said, his voice low and decisive, as Eirin looked at the people he gathered: Pierre, Calixta, Naya

, and herself. Their small, tightly knit group. "Pierre will be the front horse since he will be our main attacker again. His brute strength and powerful wind will break through enemy lines and deflect incoming attacks. He’s also swift." Link’s gaze was sharp, already envisioning their strategy.

"Cali will be on the right side to that it’ll be easy for her to create ice walls in case someone tries to attack from the right rear. Her defensive capabilities will be crucial in protecting our flank." He pointed, his hands mapping out their positions. "Naya will be on the left, her mist can help with hindering the enemies’ sight, both for offense and defense, confusing our opponents and giving us cover."

Pierre tilted his head, a question in his eyes. "You’ll be our rider, then, Link? Your strategic mind would be best up there." He assumed Link would take the most visible and vulnerable role.

Link shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. He pointed at Eirin. "Eirin will be the rider. I’ve seen her potential, and she’s been training with Shade himself. She can at least dodge him, and anyone else who comes close. "His confidence in her was both flattering and daunting. "The best thing to do is avoid direct battle since our rank is second," he continued, explaining the core strategy. "We can surely pass through this round if we keep our headband intact and outlast the others. Our goal isn’t to eliminate; it’s to survive."

Calixta looked around at their dwindled numbers, then at the larger opposing teams. "Are we going to have 5 groups, or just this one?" she asked, a practical question. The option to divide points was a calculated risk.

The seniors and the remaining members of the white team chuckled, a dry, knowing sound. "No way. We can’t divide our points just so some stupid idiots could give it out," one of the seniors said, his voice gruff, his hand resting on Link’s shoulder, a gesture of approval and trust, or so what it seems.

"We trust Link’s judgment. Anyway, we’ll be resting on the bleachers. This is your game." They looked as if they had stopped caring about the finer details of the game and were just wishing to rest well, their exhaustion from the Manhunt evident.

Calixta shook her head. "They just wanted us to win the most exhausting part so that they could enjoy battling later if we survive."

Link smiled, ignoring the thought Calixta opened. "I don’t have a Flair that could help us directly with offensive or evasive maneuvers from the rider position, so I guess Eirin will be the best choice. Her agility and evasive potential from her training will be our key. Plus, she’s really flexible." His reasoning was sound, sensible, and based on Eirin’s perceived strengths, even if her ’training’ with Shade had been anything but conventional.

Pierre wrapped his arm around Eirin’s shoulder, a confident grin on his face. "Of course, with this team, we can beat even Shade. Our defense will be impenetrable, and Eirin’s quickness will make her untouchable." His enthusiasm was infectious, momentarily alleviating Eirin’s anxiety.

However, as the teams formed, a clear pattern emerged. Every single team, observing the dynamics and the point system, decided to go with the same strategy: one single, formidable group as their sole representative. It meant no divided points, a winner-takes-all approach. This concentrated their power, creating a field of ten highly potent cavalry units, each a potential juggernaut. The intensity of the competition increased even further.

"Look, I knew Shade would be their rider," Pierre muttered, pointing a finger across the field. His prediction proved accurate. Shade was already sitting atop the shoulders of Trixtan and two other sturdy members of the red team, a picture of arrogant composure, that familiar smug look on his face. He looked down at the other teams, a challenge in his eyes, radiating an almost transparent aura of untouchable confidence.

Trixtan, forming the front of Shade’s base, grinned wildly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, as if forgetting everything but the game.

Link approached their team, his eyes scanning each member, his voice dropping, firm and serious, before the game officially started. "Remember, do not engage in a direct fight unless absolutely necessary. Our objective is survival. Just run. Keep Eirin’s headband safe. Avoid confrontation and focus on evasion." His strategy was clear: defensive, evasive, prioritizing endurance over aggressive elimination.

Eirin nodded, taking deep breaths. The weight of their strategy, the trust placed in her, settled on her shoulders.