CHAPTER 115: SHADE’S NEW GAME

As Mr. Blade’s voice, amplified to a deafening roar, thundered across the field – "Okay. The game will start in three... two... one... RUMBLE!" – he punctuated his countdown with a flamboyant wave of his hand in Eirin’s direction. The gesture, a direct acknowledgment, made Eirin feel a strange mix of self-consciousness and a flush of embarrassment. All eyes seemed to turn her way, a sudden, unwanted spotlight.

Pierre stood firm at the center of their human base, his muscles tensed, his eyes darting across the vast, open field, watching the other teams, anticipating their moves. But his vigilant calm shattered almost immediately. From all directions, a torrent of bodies, a kaleidoscope of colored headbands, converged on them.

Almost everyone was after the white team. Eirin’s eyes widened, panic in her depths, as she registered the coordinated, almost predatory advance. Every team, save for one, had focused their aggression on them.

Shade, perched atop his red team’s formidable base, seemed to revel in the unfolding spectacle. He smirked, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, as he watched Eirin’s team being swarmed, ganged upon by the relentless assault. He sat there, unmoving, radiating an aura of detached regality, as if he were a king sitting on his throne, observing a meticulously planned execution orchestrated by his silent command. His dark eyes, usually shadowed, held a glint of amusement, a calculated enjoyment of the chaos.

"They’re after us! Run!" Pierre bellowed, his voice raw, snapping the white team into action. His powerful legs tensed, ready to push through the obtruding circle of opponents.

Calixta groaned, a sound of strained effort as she channeled her Flair, a shimmering blue aura briefly enveloping their base. With a surge of icy power, she lifted the four of them from the ground, creating a temporary hover. Their human pyramid, momentarily defying gravity, floated just above the grasping hands of their attackers. But the break was fleeting.

Someone, a rider from the green team, immediately followed, leaping with surprising agility, attempting to snatch Eirin’s headband.

"Shit! They must have realized they wouldn’t be able to fight Shade head-on," Calixta spat, her voice tight with frustration. "These cowards!" She moved, evading every attack using her ice, sending sharp, defensive shards spinning outwards, forcing opponents to pull back.

Naya responded instantly, a swirling mist coming out of her palms, blanketing their team in a dense cloud. It spread, obscuring vision, disorienting attackers who stumbled, swinging blindly. But it was a trick the other teams had grown accustomed to.

Naya had used her mist too much in the Manhunt, and their opponents, though momentarily hampered, quickly adapted, relying on sound and intuition to track them. Her effectiveness was waning.

"I got you!"

A shrill voice cut through the mist. Kara, the rider of the yellow team appeared, like a phantom, her hand reaching for Eirin’s head, her fingers already flexing anticipating the feel of the white headband. "I don’t want to attack you either, Eirin," she said, her words dripping with false sincerity, "but you gotta do what you gotta do." A smile, wide and wild, stretched across her face, the opposite of the remorse she feigned.

Eirin reacted on pure instinct, a surge of adrenaline sharpening her reflexes. She bent backward, arching her body with surprising flexibility, dodging Kara’s grasping hand by mere centimeters. The sudden evasive maneuver caused Kara to lose balance. She teetered, almost falling off her base.

Pierre seized the opening. With a powerful thrust of his arm, he immediately formed a whirlwind, a concentrated vortex of wind, slamming into Kara’s team, sending them spinning away from the white team, disorienting their formation, and Kara fell off.

Mr. Blade pressed his buzzer. "Green team’s eliminated! I forgot to say, if your rider fell off, you’re eliminated!" He laughed.

"Nice dodge, Eirin!" Pierre said, his voice laced with admiration as Eirin got back to her sitting position, clutching onto his head for balance. "They’re all attacking us! How are we going to run and just survive like this, Link?" His voice held a note of desperation, the sheer volume of opponents overwhelming.

One after another, the opposing teams kept coming, relentless in their pursuit, a tidal wave of aggression. The white team was forced to use their Flair to their absolute limit, pushing their bodies and powers beyond endurance.

Calixta could feel her body chilling from the continuous expenditure of her ice, a deep, pervasive cold seeping into her bones. Her lips were turning faintly blue, her breath visible in the warm air. Although used to it, Eirin could feel the cold through Calixta’s arms.

Even Naya, usually so composed, felt her eyes getting blurry, her vision clouding from the constant, draining output of mist. Her head pounded, a dull ache throbbing behind her temples.

Eirin, seeing their struggle, a surge of protective instinct rising within her, began swinging her arms, instinctively channeling her wind. Gusts of sharp, concentrated wind erupted from her hands, raining down on the other students trying to attack them.

The wind hit them with unexpected force, jarring their formations, knocking them off balance, even causing some minor scrapes and bruises as they collided with each other. Eirin’s eyes widened, a shock of genuine horror crossing her face.

"I-I didn’t mean to hurt them!" she muttered, her voice small, trembling, seeing the tangible impact of her uncontrolled power.

"It’s fine. If you don’t, they’ll hurt you instead," Calixta said, her voice strained but firm, pulling a shimmering spear of ice out of the ground, its tip razor-sharp, its surface gleaming. "You can use this. Slice their head off." She held it out, a dangerous weapon, her gaze hardened by the relentless assault.

Eirin’s eyes widened even further, her jaw dropping. "T-That would kill them off!" Her voice terrified, laced with revulsion at the suggestion. She leaned down, resting her body on Pierre’s head, seeking a momentary refuge from the chaotic melee above, her face pressed against his hair.

The unexpected contact caused the young man to blush, a deep red spreading across his cheeks and ears, even in the midst of the battle. "I’m sorry," Eirin mumbled, her voice muffled against hid head, "someone tried to snatch my headband."

"I-It’s fine," Pierre stammered, trying to ignore all the different, distracting thoughts swirling in his head, a mixture of embarrassment and a strange, comforting warmth from Eirin’s closeness. He tried to focus on the battle, on their survival, but her touch was a powerful, disorienting sensation.

That’s when the field itself seemed to shift. Flames, licking and dancing with an angry orange glow, started rising from the ground, surrounding everyone. Not just the white team, but all the opposing teams that had swarmed them. The heat was immediate and intense, pushing back the attackers.

Eirin looked up, feeling the sudden change in the atmosphere, and her eyes met Shade’s. The smug look that had been fixed on his face, that detached amusement, was gone, replaced by his usual, stern, almost angry expression. His dark eyes blazed with an intensity that sent a shiver down Eirin’s spine, a stark contrast to his earlier, sluggish observation.

’What’s making him angry this time?’ Eirin wondered, still resting on Pierre’s head, clueless about the cause of Shade’s sudden shift in demeanor. His emotions were as unpredictable as a storm.

Shade tilted his head, as if stretching his neck, a subtle motion that radiated power. He slowly raised his hand, his fingers splayed, and a low hum filled the air. "Why don’t we make this interesting, huh, Trix?" His voice, though calm, carried a dangerous edge, a challenge that echoed across the field.

Hearing the words, Trixtan’s eyes twinkled in mischievous excitement, a mirror of Shade’s own dark amusement. The clear sky, moments before an innocent expanse of blue, started forming ominous, dark clouds, and within them, lightning began to crackle and flash, a direct response to Shade’s.

Everyone on the field immediately grew wary of Shade’s group, their attention drawn by the untamed power gathering above them. All focus shifted from the white team.

"Let’s snatch their headband," Shade pointed directly at Eirin, a hunting glint in his eyes, causing the teenage girl to feel anxiety at his sudden, direct focus on her. Her heart leaped into her throat. "That way, everyone has to chase after us."

Trixtan giggled, a sound of pure delight. "You’re good at this, Shade! The best kind of chaos!" He charged immediately at Eirin’s direction, his movements a blur of red and lightning, propelled by his Flair.

Once Pierre saw the direct assault, he immediately moved to block them with a powerful gust of wind, creating a formidable barrier. But of course, Trixtan was never one to give up, his determination fueled by his Flair and his companion’s cunning. He adjusted his trajectory, a streak of lightning, aiming to bypass Pierre’s defenses.

"Hang on, Cali, Naya, Pierre! This will be very fast!" Trixtan yelled, a warning. Electricity crackled around him, sparks flying from his hair, a visual manifestation of his immense speed.

It was no longer a game; it was a battle. A concentrated, lightning-fast strike.