The group finished eating and began the slow walk back to their quarters. Muscles ached, eyes were heavy, and the quiet hum of the headquarters’ night cycle filled the halls.

  But as they stepped into the main lobby, all of them halted.

  The place was packed—dozens upon dozens of soldiers, each wearing uniforms unlike anything seen in Aurora Academy or the Smith Infantry.

  Serafina blinked, confused.

  “What… is going on?”

  Before any of them could piece it together, a familiar voice approached.

  Cain adjusted his glasses and stepped beside them.

  “These are the reinforcements. Soldiers and warriors sent by the heads of the Five Families. They’re here to support security for the inter-infantry competition. With the abberant activity rising, the families aren’t taking chances.”

  The squad looked around, taking in the sight.

  To the right, a full column of warriors clad in traditional samurai armor and dark blue garbs, swords sheathed at their sides and discipline radiating off them like a physical force. The Sato Clan’s elite.

  In the center, towering over the rest, were soldiers in Hellenic military uniforms—white plating over navy-blue combat suits, capes bearing the ancient crest of the Goetia line. Their presence was imposing, disciplined, undeniably powerful.

  To the left, soldiers in all-black suits and ties, eerily silent, each wearing an earpiece and gloves with rune-like circuits woven subtly into the fabric. Agents of the Rui Family—The Shadows of Rui.

  And at the center of all of them stood a woman with snow-white hair tied in a sharp bun, coat draped over her shoulders like a mantle.

  General Winter Tremblay.

  She moved between formations with absolute authority, her voice clear, crisp, and cold as ice.

  “Samurai Division—north perimeter. Goetian Forces—reinforce the inner checkpoints. Rui Agents—you’ll be spread across the arena’s shadows. Expect infiltration attempts. Do not underestimate the possibility of a breach.”

  The soldiers responded with a unison that echoed through the entire lobby.

  The squad could only stare.

  Even Kael felt a strange chill run through him—this level of security was unheard of.

  Cain folded his arms.

  “The Five Families have finally moved. If this many elites are here… then the situation out there must be far worse than what we’re told.”

  Natalia whispered,

  “It feels like the whole world is coming to this event…”

  Cain exhaled sharply, eyes following the lines of foreign soldiers marching through the lobby.

  “More like the whole universe rather than the whole world,” he corrected, voice low but firm.

  “Different sectors, different bases—infantry forces from dozens of planets are converging here. That’s why the Five Families are tightening security. With this many forces gathered in one place… it’s the perfect opportunity for the abberants to cripple the entire infantry in one strike.”

  A heavy silence fell.

  Anya and Serafina froze, eyes widening in shock.

  Kyle, Takeshi, and Kael exchanged looks—each of them feeling that cold, sinking weight that came with the realization.

  They weren’t just competing anymore.

  They would be fighting under the gaze of the entire universe.

  Natalia swallowed, hugging her arms slightly.

  “Does… does this happen every year?”

  Cain shook his head.

  “Not really. This level of buildup is new.”

  He glanced at the samurai warriors, the Goetian soldiers, the black-suited Shadows of Rui.

  “Abberant activity has surged these past few months. So, for now, we reinforce everything. Every wall. Every corner. Every inch of security.”

  Kyle whispered,

  “This is on a different scale…”

  Cain nodded grimly.

  “Exactly. So, prepare yourselves. Once the competition begins, the entire infantry—every sector across every planet—will be watching. And so will the abberants.”

  For the next few days, life in the infantry became a blur of sweat, spirit energy, and relentless training.

  Kyle and Takeshi fought every sunrise to sunset, their clashes echoing through the simulation room like thunder and tearing vines. Serafina was always nearby, restoring their strength with healing spirit energy. Whenever Kyle dropped to almost zero, Natalia swapped in—training with Takeshi to give Kyle time to recover. No one questioned it anymore; it had become their routine, their rhythm.

  Kael, meanwhile, trained with Joseph and Barnabas, mastering movement patterns, team synergy, and formation tactics for the upcoming 3-on-3 battle. But whenever Joseph called a break, Kael would head straight to Takeshi’s training zone—joining him without hesitation.

  Meals became something they forgot existed.

  Without Anya showing up every afternoon and evening—hands full of lunch boxes, drinks, and snacks—the four of them would have easily trained themselves into collapse.

  Even The Spirit Trio had something to say.

  During one training break, while Takeshi practiced sword drills without a drop of spirit energy left, Kylon floated beside Kael and spoke softly:

  “Holder… if you didn’t have such a massive spirit energy pool, Takeshi would likely surpass you.”

  Kael didn’t even deny it.

  He watched Takeshi’s stance—perfectly stable, perfectly sharpened.

  “Yeah,” Kael admitted.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Out of all of us, he’s the most disciplined. The most precise. The most trained.”

  Kawa grumbled, flames flickering.

  “Still… Holder is obviously the most powerful among the squad.”

  Zatz shot up like a spark, spinning in circles with playful laughter.

  “Yep! Nobody beats Kael when it comes to raw power—kaboom!”

  Kael sighed.

  “Power isn’t everything.”

  The day of the Inter-Infantry Competition finally arrived.

  From dawn onward, the skies above the headquarters were thick with engines, thrusters, and streaks of light as ships from different infantry sectors descended one after another. Competitors stepped out in full formation—armor gleaming, banners raised, each sector proudly displaying their colors.

  But the atmosphere shifted the moment four royal-class vessels approached.

  The crowd erupted.

  The cameras zoomed in.

  All around the world, millions watched.

  The first vessel touched down with the elegance of a floating temple—crafted with wooden panels, gilded accents, and ancient Japanese motifs.

  From it stepped Akane Sato, matriarch of the Sato family, her presence alone sharp enough to silence a battlefield. Flanking her were her samurai warriors, footsteps perfectly in sync. Her heir, August Sato, followed with calm discipline.

  Infantry soldiers cheered wildly.

  Samurais from the Sato line rarely appeared outside their domain.

  Seeing them was like seeing legends step out of myth.

  The second vessel descended like a piece of Olympus itself—marble-white plating, columns framing its landing gates.

  Out marched Hank Goetia, patriarch of the Goetia family. Beside him was his heir, Gehlee Goetia, and rows of soldiers clad in pristine white armor, walking with divine precision.

  The third vessel arrived in a swirl of cold mist—a winter-themed flagship lined with silver frost.

  Gustav Tremblay emerged from the fog, carrying the aura of a man whose mere breath commanded blizzards. He was greeted by his daughter, General Winter Tremblay, the two exchanging a formal nod before the winter army followed behind like a moving glacier.

  The final vessel landed last—its hull adorned with ornate Chinese designs, jade-green insignias glowing with ancient pride.

  From it stepped Veronica Rui, matriarch of the Rui family.

  With her were her three heirs—the Rui triplets: James, Jonathan, and Justin. Each one carried the same poised elegance, but James… his aura was sharp and violent.

  And when James’s eyes landed on Kael—

  —they burned with pure hatred.

  Waiting at the entrance were the head of the Smith family and head general of the entire infantry—

  General Ryker Smith himself.

  At his side stood his son, Captain Cain Smith, along with the elite squads: Regal, Alpha, Action, and Prime. All of them straightened up and saluted as the heads of the Five Families passed.

  It was a moment of history—four of the most powerful bloodlines in the universe gathered under one roof, watched by billions.

  As soon as the last family entered the headquarters, reporters crowded the scene, drones capturing every angle. The global broadcast cut to the announcer—voice booming with excitement:

  “And there you have it, folks!

  The Inter-Infantry Competition has begun with a spectacular entrance!

  The families have arrived, the competitors have assembled,

  and only one champion will emerge!”

  Spotlights swept across the arriving cadets.

  “Who will rise? Who will fall?

  Stay with us as the greatest infantry event in the universe unfolds!”

  The crowd roared.

  The cameras flashed.

  The stage was set.

  And the real battles were about to begin.

  The air inside the preparation quarters carried a thick, restless tension. Armor clicked, boots shuffled, and cadets whispered among themselves as they waited for the announcement of the first match. The Battle Infantry competitors formed loose clusters, debating quietly over who would step onto the field first.

  The door slid open.

  Cain stepped inside—calm, composed, and carrying an authority that instantly silenced the room. Every competitor straightened, eyes fixed on him.

  He scanned the room once before speaking.

  “The first match,” he announced, voice echoing against the metal walls, “will be Nino Sacre of Squad Alpha… versus Alya Sancti of Battle Infantry Sector 3211.”

  A ripple spread through the cadets—gasps, nods, murmurs. Nino clenched his fists once, steadying his breath.

  “The event will be Hunt Down,” Cain continued. “Each competitor will carry three bells. Whoever claims all six by taking every bell from their opponent… wins.”

  The moment he stepped back, the quarters burst into cheers—short, sharp, energetic. Squad Alpha clapped Nino on the back as he stepped forward, face set, moving straight toward the tunnel leading to the arena entrance.

  Outside, the roar of the crowd was already shaking the air.

  Before the competitors emerged onto the battlefield, a hover platform rose into view, drifting smoothly across the arena like a spotlight in motion.

  A man stood atop it, mic in hand, coat whipping behind him.

  “Good morning, everybody!” he boomed, voice ringing through the massive coliseum. “I am Jean Jacques, your announcer for today’s competition!”

  The crowd erupted, waving and shouting as Jean spiraled through the air in dramatic loops, greeting every section of the arena.

  “This is the day everyone has been waiting for!” he declared, the platform rising higher as he swept his arm toward the massive audience stands. “Not only do we discover who among the infantry soldiers—across all sectors—stands as the strongest…”

  The lights suddenly shifted.

  A high balcony opened, curtains drawing back to reveal an elevated platform. Five long chairs. Five families.

  Jean extended his arm toward them as the camera zoomed in.

  “…but today,” he continued, voice swelling, “we are graced by the presence of the Heads of the Five Families—and their heirs!”

  The crowd exploded.

  “Introducing first—Akane Sato, Matriarch of the Sato Family, accompanied by her heir, August Sato!”

  Akane rose, elegant and composed, bowing deeply. August mirrored her perfectly beside her. The audience roared in approval.

  “And next,” Jean said with theatrical flourish, “Hank Goetia, Patriarch of the Goetia Family—joined by the most beautiful girl of our era, his heir, Gehlee Goetia!”

  Hank stood with a proud smile, waving broadly. Beside him, Gehlee rose, radiant—so striking that the crowd’s cheering surged into a wave of awe-struck shouts, whistles, and applause.

  Jean let the excitement ripple before turning to the third family.

  “And now—Gustav Tremblay, the man of cold steel himself, Patriarch of the Tremblay Family! With him is his heir, General Winter Tremblay!”

  Both Gustav and Winter stood with disciplined precision, delivering a crisp military salute. The crowd responded with equal intensity, their cheers thundering through the arena.

  Gustav sat back down, expression unmoved—Winter following a heartbeat later.

  The spotlight swept across the balcony once more as Jean raised his arm toward the fourth family.

  “Next,” he announced, voice booming, “we have the Matriarch of the Rui Family—Veronica Rui! And with her are her three heirs: James, Jonathan, and Justin Rui!”

  The Rui family rose in unison. Veronica carried herself with regal composure, while the three heirs bowed sharply beside her—James calm and unreadable, Jonathan proud, Justin with a hint of a grin. The audience roared their approval as the family returned to their seats.

  Jean took a deep breath, then delivered his final introduction with added gravitas.

  “And now… the host of this year’s competition!” His hover platform dipped dramatically before rising again. “The head of the Smith Family, High General of the Battle Infantry—General Ryker Smith! Accompanied by his heir, Captain Cain Smith!”

  Ryker stood tall, raising his right hand high above him.

  Instantly, every soldier in attendance—thousands across the stands—rose and delivered a sharp, unified salute. A wave of respect rolled through the entire coliseum, the sheer discipline sending a shiver through even the civilians watching.

  Ryker lowered his hand, nodded once to the crowd, then took his seat. Cain remained stoic, eyes fixed on the arena.

  Jean clapped his hands together.

  “Alright, everybody looks excited!” he said with infectious enthusiasm. “For the first event of the day, we present—Hunt Down!”

  The arena floor rumbled.

  Panels shifted, metal groaned, and massive plates rotated beneath the ground. In seconds, the battlefield transformed into a dense, towering forest arena—tree trunks rising high, foliage unfolding, roots cracking through the artificial soil as mist crept across the floor.

  “A special event calls for a special arena!” Jean declared as the crowd erupted in anticipation. “Now—let’s meet our competitors!”

  Cheers detonated from the stands.

  “From the Battle Infantry Headquarters—Nino Sacre!”

  Nino stepped out into the light, clad in full armor—a turtle-themed plate set with a broad, shield-like carapace pattern across his chest and back. His circular shield glinted as he lifted it, and the crowd roared even louder.

  “And from Battle Infantry Sector 3211,” Jean continued, “Alya Sancti!”

  Alya emerged with fluid confidence, wearing an orange armor set with fox motifs etched along the sides. In her hand, she carried a sleek blowdart tube, carved with elegant swirls. Her movements were precise, light, controlled.

  Jean grinned.

  “Is everybody ready…?”

  The audience leaned forward as one.

  “Then let the competition… BEGIN!”

  A horn blasted. Nino lowered behind his shield and advanced into the trees. Alya darted sideways, disappearing into brush with fox-like speed.

  The forest swallowed them both.