In the Eastern Sector, Marie Isolde froze. She was wading through a swamp, the water waist-deep and thick with algae. Her eyes were fixed on the retreating back of a grey-clad soldier carrying a crimson flag.
"Draven is out?"
She gasped, stopping in the muck.
"How?! I’m chasing the flag right now! He couldn't have been engaged!"
Ahead of her, the runner sensed the pursuit was slowing. He panicked and dropped the heavy flag to run faster.
The flag splashed into the swamp water, sinking slowly.
Marie rushed forward, ignoring the filth, reaching for it.
"I claim the…"
Her hand touched the fabric.
POOF.
The crimson silk vanished in a puff of mana. Floating in the murky water was a rotting log, covered in slime.
"No!"
Marie said, horror dawning on her face as she looked at the stick.
"It’s a decoy."
She looked up at the dense jungle around her. The trees seemed to close in, mocking her. Somewhere out there, four other armies were chasing sticks, completely out of position, while the predator watched them from the shadows.
"We’re all chasing decoys."
In the far Southeast, the situation was desperate.
Eliza Vance was not capturing a hill. She was fighting for her life.
"Mages! Link formation!"
Eliza screamed, slamming her staff into the scorched earth.
"On my mark! Scutum!"
Behind her, twenty defensive Battle-Mages (Warders) from her unit raised their wands in unison, channeling their mana into a singular frequency.
A barrier of golden light flared around her small unit. It wasn't a single dome; it was a honeycomb of hexagonal panels that snapped together, fusing into a solid, shimmering wall of force.
CRASH.
The impact shook the ground. To her left, a heavy cavalry unit slammed into the magical wall, their lances splintering against the collective barrier. Leading them was Luke Herrington, the favorite to win the event. He sat atop a white charger, looking bored as his troops hammered Eliza’s defenses.
To her right, a second army, a regiment of Archers, rained fire-arrows down on her position, turning the grass around them into a burning ring of ash.
Eliza gritted her teeth, feeling the drain on her mana reserves. It was a stalemate, but a losing one.
"They aren't trying to break us, Commander!"
Her lieutenant shouted, pouring mana into the shield to patch a crack.
"They’re just pinning us down! They’re bleeding our clock!"
Eliza’s mind raced as she held the spell.
Two armies. Working together seamlessly from the first time she met them in the field. Luke Herrington hadn't even tried to engage the other Commander; they had moved in perfect sync to encircle her.
"It’s a collusion."
Eliza realized, a cold knot forming in her stomach.
"They rigged the game."
She did the math instantly. There were twelve participants. Two were here, keeping her trapped in this corner of the map.
"If two are on me..."
Eliza whispered, her eyes widening.
"That leaves eight armies hunting Ray."
She felt a pang of despair. Ray was talented, but he was a 1st-Circle Novice. If eight Noble armies had coordinated to attack him, he was already dead. She was alone.
Then, the sky boomed.
"COMMANDER GUNTHER DRAVEN ELIMINATED!"
The sound rolled over the battlefield like thunder.
The attacking armies faltered. Luke Herrington pulled on his reins, his bored expression vanishing instantly. The archers stopped firing.
Gunther Draven was the hammer. He was supposed to be one of the heavy hitters assigned to eliminate Ray Croft.
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Eliza heard the announcement, and her brain froze for a second.
Draven? Eliminated?
Eliza thought in surprise.
If Ray was dead, the announcement would have been ‘Commander Ray Croft Eliminated.’ But Ray was still in the game. And Gunther Draven was gone.