"Oh, I did," Mitsuo replied, his eyes locking with hers in a heavy, silent confrontation.

  Before the tension could boil over, Colonel Z stepped between them.

  "There you two are. Mitsuo, I have something urgent to discuss with you."

  "Is that so, Colonel?" Mitsuo replied, turning away dismissively.

  "Send me a text later. I'm not in the mood."

  He walked off to continue drinking, leaving an annoyed Rose in his wake.

  The Colonel turned to the remaining guests, his voice booming through the hall.

  "Please, everyone, continue to enjoy yourselves. Forget this minor commotion."

  As she shifted, she realized she wasn't alone.

  Cassey was sprawled across the other half of the bed, fast asleep.

  Aoi blinked, her memory slowly piecing together the drunken blur of the previous night—how Cassey had stubbornly stuck to her side all the way to her room and eventually collapsed there.

  Aoi sighed and began shaking the other girl’s shoulder.

  "Five more minutes, Mom..." Cassey mumbled, a trail of drool escaping the corner of her mouth.

  Slightly annoyed, Aoi reached out and gave Cassey’s ear a sharp tug.

  "Ouch! Hey! Can't you wake someone up more gently?!" Cassey yelped, sitting bolt upright and rubbing her ear.

  "I just woke you up the way a mother would," Aoi retorted.

  "Didn't you just call me 'Mom' in your sleep?"

  "Huh? What? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Cassey scrambled out of bed, smoothing her disheveled hair.

  "Anyway, it looks like I crashed here and forgot to go back to my own dorm. I’m heading out now. Let’s meet up at the base."

  "Base?" Aoi asked, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  "Don't tell me you forgot! We have to plan for the mock battles. Especially after the way you shoved that Feather leader last night," Cassey warned, her voice turning serious.

  "I’d stay cautious if I were you, Aoi. That guy doesn't look like the forgiving type."

  After getting ready, Aoi made her way to the Wrappers' headquarters.

  When she arrived, she found the entire team already gathered—along with one very unnecessary guest.

  "Yo! Tenty-girl! How’s it hanging?"

  It was Mitsuo.

  He was casually leaning back in Lilith’s personal chair, his boots propped up on the table while the rest of the team stood around him.

  Aoi felt a surge of irritation at the nickname, but her parasitic tentacles knew better than she did; they coiled tightly against her back, sensing the overwhelming "monster" sitting in the room.

  Faced with her silence, Mitsuo let out a soft chuckle.

  "You’ve really grown since the last time I saw you. Not bad, lol."

  As he leaned back further, Aether subtly signalled one of his drones.

  The small machine zipped under the chair and gave one of the legs a sharp, mechanical kick.

  The chair lurched, but to everyone’s surprise, Mitsuo didn't fall.

  He remained perfectly suspended in mid-air, still in a sitting position, as if the chair were still there.

  "You're playing too many pranks, Aethy," Mitsuo teased, not even looking back.

  Aether’s face twisted in disgust.

  "Don't call me that."

  Harry remained hunched over his books, completely ignoring the intruder as if he didn't exist.

  Cassey, however, was a different story; she stood frozen, looking like a shy fan who had just met her ultimate idol for the first time.

  Mitsuo then shifted his gaze to Steve, who was focused on meticulously cleaning his rifle.

  "Yo, old man! You still haven't retired yet?"

  "You don't have to worry about that," Steve replied without looking up.

  Watching the exchange, Aoi realized that Mitsuo shared a long history with the senior members—Aether, Steve, Harry, and Lilith.

  Mitsuo then turned his attention to Sera.

  "And here’s the damsel in distress," he said in a petty tone.

  "You caused quite a drama yesterday, didn't you? What was your name again?"

  "Sera," she replied, her expression remaining cold and flat.

  Mitsuo then turned to Cassey, noticing her bright red face.

  He stood up and drifted toward her, reaching out to touch her cheek.

  "So, you're a fan of mine too?"

  "Kyaa! I-I... I’m your biggest fan, Mitsuo-sir! Sir Mitsuo! Sir Special-Grade!"

  Cassey fumbled over her words, her brain seemingly short-circuiting under his gaze.

  Lilith stepped in, cutting off the interaction with a sharp glare.

  "When are you getting out of here, Mitsuo?"

  "Eh? Lili, that’s so harsh," Mitsuo shrugged, though he made no move to leave.

  "We have strategy to discuss," Lilith stated firmly.

  "Oh, go ahead. Do your thing. I won't be a bother."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Mitsuo leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms.

  Lilith looked annoyed, but she knew better than to try and force him out.

  She gave a resigned sigh and turned to the team.

  The room was tense as Lilith pulled up the mission holographic.

  Mitsuo had retreated to a chair a short distance away, sitting backward with his arms resting on the leaning portion as he watched the team with an amused glint in his eyes.

  "This year, the higher-ups have changed the format of the mock battles," Lilith began, her voice steady.

  "And unfortunately, in the first round, we’ve been paired against the Feathers."

  "You mean we have to deal with that 'Angel' Eagle?" Cassey exclaimed, finally snapping out of her fan-girl trance to focus on the threat.

  "Unfortunately, yes," Lilith replied.

  "The battles will occur in three distinct modes. Each team gets to nominate the mode they want to fight in."

  Mode 1: Individual Combat.

  "In this mode, all team members fight their counterparts individually. If there’s a mismatch in numbers, one combatant can fight up to two matches, but everyone is required to step into the arena at least once. For us, that means one of us will have to pull double duty to match their eight members."

  "What about the other modes?" Sera asked.

  Mode 2: Capture the Flag, Lilith continued.

  "This is more complex. We’ll be dropped into a simulated environment—anything from the deep sea to outer space. Each team has a base to protect; the first to secure the enemy’s flag wins."

  "Why don't we just do that?" Aoi suggested immediately.

  "The numbers wouldn't matter as much in a team-based tactical game."

  Lilith looked concerned, but before she could speak, Aether snapped at Aoi.

  "Shut up, idiot. Let her finish."

  "And finally, Mode 3: Rescue Operation," Lilith concluded.

  "A simulated disaster where we have to rescue survivors while fighting off threats to protect them."

  Mitsuo, who had been quietly eavesdropping, chimed in.

  "That sounds nice. Why don't you try that one?"

  Lilith’s jaw tightened at his intervention, but she answered without turning around.

  "We aren't exactly known for operating as a single entity in rescue scenarios. At least, not compared to the other elites."

  Mitsuo let out a sharp laugh.

  "Right. Strategy isn't exactly your strong suit, lol."

  Harry suddenly looked up from his notes.

  "I think we should push for Mode 1."

  "Why not Mode 2?" Aoi argued.

  "It gives us a better statistical chance."

  "Not really, Brown-head," Steve interrupted, leaning against the wall.

  "Despite Arthur’s lack of self-control, the Feathers are elites because of their teamwork. They move as one."

  Aoi was shocked.

  She remembered how the Feather members had instantly moved to back Arthur up at the gala, even when he was clearly in the wrong.

  Their loyalty was a weapon in itself.

  "Well," Aether asked, looking at the holographic display.

  "What if we choose one mode and they choose another? Who gets the final say?"

  "That’s where you’ll have to toss for it," Mitsuo answered from the back, a playful smirk on his face.

  "A toss? Like a coin flip?" Aether asked sceptically.

  "Exactly," Mitsuo grinned.

  "Gotta keep the spirit of the game alive, right?"

  Cassey looked back at Lilith.

  "Can we actually win an individual slugfest against them?"

  "We have a chance," Lilith admitted.

  "But they will almost certainly push for Mode 2 to use their coordination against us."

  Harry stood up, leaving his book open on the table.

  "I don't think they will. Not if we play our cards right. Arthur’s ego took a massive hit when Sera rejected him. If we provoke him further, he won't think rationally. He'll want to crush us one-on-one to prove he's superior."

  "It’s risky," Steve noted.

  "It’s not like they’re weak individually. Even Mode 1 won't be a piece of cake."

  "Then we prepare for both," Sera said, her hand resting on her blade.

  Late that night, the base was silent.

  A small demonic appendage, no larger than a rat, scurried through the ventilation shafts.

  It had travelled all the way from the Feather quarters, creeping toward the heart of the Wrappers' base.

  It found a dark corner and prepared to settle in, its tiny eyes opening to scan the room.

  Before it could record a single sound, a heavy boot came down.

  CRUNCH.

  The day of the event arrived with a heavy, electric tension hanging over the arena.

  High in the VIP stands, Rose and Colonel Z took their seats.

  To the surprise of the gathered crowd, Mitsuo actually made his way to his designated seat beside the Colonel, looking unusually composed as he prepared to watch the spectacle.

  In the center of the stadium, the two units stood face-to-face.

  Arthur was silent, his usual arrogant smirk replaced by a mask of cold, professional seriousness.

  "Both team leaders, announce your chosen mode," the referee commanded.

  Lilith and Arthur stepped forward.

  "Mode One!" they shouted in unison.

  Lilith froze, her eyes widening in shock.

  She had expected Arthur to play to his unit's strength—teamwork and coordination—in Mode Two.

  Even with his bruised ego, it didn't make sense for him to be this reckless.

  As she glanced at him, she saw Arthur let out a low, dark chuckle.

  A cold shiver ran down Lilith’s spine.

  He’s not being dumb, she realized.

  He’s planning something.

  The scene shifts to the night before.

  Harry was hunched over a map, his voice raspy as he finalized the strategy for the individual bouts.

  "Once the first match starts, we maintain the rotation I’ve set. Is that clear?"

  "Yes!" the Wrappers replied in a synchronized roar.

  The teams retreated to their respective camps at opposite ends of the field.

  The referee’s voice boomed over the speakers, clarifying the modified rules:

  "This is a Mode One battle. Each team will send one representative. While each member must participate and one can fight twice, there is a special 'Gladiator Clause.' A winner has the choice to remain on the field to face the next opponent. A single combatant can stay in the ground for as long as they continue to win."

  "Team Wrappers! Team Feathers! Send your first representatives!"

  From the Feather camp, a member stepped out with disciplined grace, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword.

  From the Wrapper side, the crowd watched in silence as Harry walked out.

  He adjusted his utility pouch and checked the seals on his poison-breathing muzzle, his eyes cold and unreadable.

  "Shouldn't we push for Mode Two?" one member had asked Arthur during their private meeting.

  "That’s our home turf."

  "That is exactly what they expect us to do," Arthur replied calmly.

  "Still, we’re the best at it," another interrupted.

  "Why not take the advantage?"

  Arthur slammed his hand onto the table, the sound echoing through the room.

  "Because I’m afraid of that Harry guy."

  The room went silent.

  A female member scoffed.

  "He looks like a bookworm, Arthur. No strategy can beat our coordination."

  "He isn't just an average strategist," Arthur countered, his voice low.

  "He’s a genius scientist, and their group is full of anomalies like the drone specialist and their Lamia leader. You think their diversity is a weakness? It means they have multiple brains capable of independent, lethal thought. In a 'Capture the Flag' game, there are two ways to win: take the flag, or knock everyone out."

  "Do you really think they can take all eight of us out?" a younger member asked sceptically.

  "Not head-on," Arthur whispered.

  "But very few people know Harry’s real history. Before he was drafted into the military, he was a top-tier assassin. I doubt even the Wrappers know the full extent of his kill count."

  The Feather camp recoiled in shock.

  Haether leaned forward, her face pale.

  "How do you know this, Arthur?"

  Arthur’s silver eyes narrowed as he looked at the door.

  "Because I have some history with him."

  As the two combatants took their positions, the air in the arena seemed to thicken.

  The Feather knight settled into a heavy, disciplined stance, his hand white-knuckled on his blade.

  Harry watched him with a detached, almost bored expression.

  "You don't need to try so hard," Harry rasped through his muzzle.

  "I’m not the 'strength' of the Wrappers."

  "I have no intention of underestimating my enemies," the knight replied, his voice echoing from behind his visor.

  "BEGIN!" the announcer’s voice boomed.

  The knight lunged instantly, a clean, high-speed slash aimed at Harry’s chest.

  Harry stepped back—a movement so precise it was almost lazy—letting the blade whistle past by a fraction of an inch.

  The knight didn't overextend.

  He planted his feet and whispered, "Absolute Zero."

  The effect was instantaneous.

  A wave of frost exploded from the knight’s boots.

  The temperature of the arena floor plummeting to zero degrees in a heartbeat.

  The ground froze solid, turning into a treacherous sheet of ice, while a thick, freezing mist rose to swallow both fighters.

  The audience gasped.

  A ripple of concern went through the Wrappers' camp.

  High in the VIP stands, Mitsuo watched the mist with a knowing smirk.

  As he was the only one knowing what's coming.

  To be continued.....

  ? MYukH. All rights reserved