The pneumatic seal of the Echo Chamber hissed open, releasing a cloud of cold, pressurized steam.
HISS.
Ray sat up in the pod, blinking as the harsh lights of the Grand Arena flooded his vision. The roar of the crowd was instantaneous, a physical wall of sound that washed over the stadium floor. It was a mix of awe, shock, and deafening applause.
Ray stepped out of his pod, stretching his neck. Eliza emerged from the pod next to him, looking tired but triumphant.
Across the arena floor, the other pods opened.
Luke Herrington stumbled out of his machine. He looked physically sick. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his hands were trembling. He stared at his palms, still remembering the sensation of driving a lance through his own ally's chest.
Bazba Bordon and Marie Isolde crawled out of their pods looking like shell-shocked war veterans. They eyed everyone, including each other with deep, paranoid suspicion.
And then there was Geddoe Jansen.
The Tier-3 Silver Key from the minor College of Intelligence (Statecraft) stepped out of his pod slowly. He looked around at the celebrating crowd, but he was not happy. He had survived the night. He had hidden well. But he had never captured a flag.
He fell to his knees on the sand, burying his face in his hands as the realization of his disqualification washed over him.
Luke Herrington looked up. His eyes locked onto Ray across the arena floor.
It wasn't the look of a superior noble looking down on a commoner anymore. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a burning, seething mixture of anger and genuine wariness. He looked at Ray like one would look at a venomous snake that had just slithered into his bed.
Ray caught his eye. He didn't gloat. He didn't smirk. He simply offered Luke a polite, aristocratic nod.
"AND THAT IS IT!"
Bruce Doyle’s voice exploded over the speakers.
"The first round of the War-Gaming event has ended! The dust has settled! What a result! What a disaster for the Alliance!"
A massive scoreboard hologram materialized in the center of the arena, displaying the final stats.
"Let’s look at the carnage!"
Bruce shouted.
"Six Commanders eliminated: Gunther Draven, Arturo Zaveed, Dinn Regius, Flinn Halec, Dromon Voss, and finally, Neira Megion! And one Commander disqualified for failing to secure a flag: Geddoe Jansen!"
The crowd murmured as eliminated participants were escorted off the field by the faculty.
"That leaves us with FIVE participants moving on to the next round!"
Bruce announced.
The names flashed in golden letters in the display pane floating in the Grand Arena:
Ray Croft (College of Arcanum)
Luke Herrington (College of Statecraft)
Eliza Vance (College of Statecraft)
Bazba Bordon (College of Statecraft)
Marie Isolde (College of Statecraft)
"But wait!"
Bruce pressed a hand to his earpiece.
"I am getting word from the judges! Because we have an odd number of qualifiers, five instead of the usual even bracket, the tournament rules dictate a special condition for the Second Round!"
The crowd went silent, leaning forward.
"To balance the brackets for the next round,"
Bruce announced, his voice echoing,
"The highest-ranked qualifier from the first round of the War-Gaming will receive a 'By-Pass'!"
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Ray looked up at the screen.
[RANK 1: RAY CROFT.]
[Flags Captured: 2]
[Commanders Eliminated: 2]
"Ray Croft!"
Bruce roared.
"Having secured the most flags and the highest elimination score, the ‘Artificer’ will completely skip the second round! He automatically advances to the third and Final Round!"
The stadium erupted. It was a chaotic mix of cheers from the commoner students and furious booing from the noble sections who desperately wanted to see Ray Croft beaten in a duel.
On the arena floor, Luke Herrington’s face turned a shade of purple. Marie and Bazba looked like they wanted to scream. They had barely survived the night, and now they would have to fight each other in a brutal duel just to earn the right to face Ray again?
Meanwhile, the ‘Artificer’ would get to sit in the participants section, rested and untouched, watching them bleed for his amusement.
Ray looked at the scoreboard, then at the fuming nobles. A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
"Efficiency,"
Ray whispered to himself.