The Extra's Rise

The final preliminary event of the Inter-Academy Festival loomed before us, a virtual crucible designed to forge victors from chaos. Sixty students, each handed the reins of an army, would step into a sprawling VR battlefield where strategy and strength would collide. The rules were deceptively simple: capture glowing objectives scattered across the map to swell your forces.

The catch?

The higher your rank, the weaker your starting soldiers—a so-called balancing act to level the playing field. I saw it for what it was: a puzzle begging to be solved, a challenge daring me to outthink the system itself.

I stood by my assigned pod in the VR hub, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at my lips. "This won't be simple," I murmured, my voice a quiet thread lost in the hum of the chamber. Simple was dull.

The real complication wasn't the rules—it was the players. Ren was here, a rank below me but a storm in human form, his presence a guarantee of chaos. After Lucifer and Jack, he was the last person I wanted to cross swords with too early. Then there were Seraphina and Jin, each a force of nature in their own right, both hungry for the same prize I was.

The VR hub buzzed with restless energy, a sterile expanse of white walls and polished floors lined with sixty sleek pods that gleamed under the stark overhead lights. Students milled about—some paced, boots tapping out nervous rhythms; others stretched, flexing muscles that wouldn't matter once the helmets took over. I scanned the room, cataloging threats.

Seraphina stood a few stations down, silver hair glinting like a blade, her posture rigid and unyielding as if she'd already iced the competition in her mind, though her expression did melt when our eyes crossed. Jin leaned against the back wall, dark eyes roving the crowd, hands resting lightly on the hilts of his twin shortswords, casual but coiled. Ren slouched by his pod, violet gaze sweeping the room, lingering on me for a heartbeat before sliding away—a silent gauntlet thrown.

The proctor stepped forward, a wiry figure clutching a glowing tablet. His voice sliced through the chatter, sharp and authoritative. "Participants, prepare to enter the VR pods. The event begins in five minutes."

A ripple of motion swept the room as students turned to their stations. I took a slow, steadying breath, letting the nerves settle into focus. My pod's door hissed open, revealing a sleek interior: a contoured seat, a helmet-like device suspended above it, and walls that shimmered faintly with embedded tech. I stepped inside, the door sealing behind me with a soft click. The seat molded to my frame as I sat, and the helmet descended automatically, fitting snugly over my head, its cool metal pressing against my temples.

A mechanical voice hummed in my ears, calm and precise. "Initiating VR link. Please remain still."

The hub faded, replaced by a swirling vortex of colors—blues and greens bleeding into reds and golds. A fleeting wave of disorientation tugged at my senses as my consciousness slipped from flesh to code, plunging into the virtual realm.

When the colors coalesced, I stood on a vast, open plain. The sky burned a deep, ominous red, casting an eerie glow over a patchwork of cracked dirt and sparse grass. In the distance, glowing objectives pierced the horizon like lances of light—beacons of power waiting to be claimed. My army materialized around me, fifty soldiers in total, their forms flickering into existence. They were a ragtag lot—tattered armor, mismatched weapons—but their eyes blazed with resolve. I could feel their loyalty, a quiet pulse of trust binding them to my will.

I raised a hand, summoning the holographic map. It shimmered into view, a translucent grid hovering before me. The objectives dotted the landscape, each one a strategic linchpin designed to spark conflict. Three stood out: east, west, and central, their positions forcing movement, confrontation. I traced the terrain with my eyes—hills to the east, a ravine cutting through the west, flat ground in the center. A plan clicked into place.

"Listen up," I said, my voice carrying over the wind. My soldiers snapped to attention. "We split into three. Group A, take the eastern objective—use the hills for cover. Group B, head west—watch the ravine, don't get pinned. Group C, you're with me. We secure the center."

They nodded, dividing with practiced efficiency. I led Group C toward the central beacon, my mind churning through possibilities. Ren would beeline for a key point—he thrived on bold moves. Seraphina would play it cold, calculated, picking off stragglers. Jin? He'd adapt, strike where the chaos peaked. The center was a gamble—open, exposed—but it was the fulcrum. Hold it, and I'd dictate the flow.

The beacon loomed ahead, a tower of light pulsing against the crimson sky. My boots crunched on the dry earth as we closed in, but a shadow shifted on the horizon. Another army, already there. A familiar figure stood at its head—Ren, his violet eyes catching the glow, a smirk curling his lips.

"So, we meet again, Arthur," he called, his voice ringing across the field.

I matched his smirk. "Looks like it. Ready to lose?"

He laughed, sharp and reckless. "We'll see about that."

The battle erupted, our armies slamming together in a storm of steel and shouts. I barked orders, directing Group C to fan out, using the flat terrain to maneuver. Ren's forces hit hard, his commands crisp and lethal, soldiers moving like extensions of his will. Blades clashed, dust kicked up in clouds, and the air thrummed with the chaos of war.

I ducked a wild swing from one of his vanguard, driving my elbow into their gut and shoving them back. My eyes tracked Ren through the melee—he was a blur of motion, cutting through my lines with ruthless precision. But I'd planned for this. I raised a hand, signaling Group A and Group B via the map's comms. Flank now.

From the east and west, my reinforcements surged, crashing into Ren's rear like twin hammers. His formation buckled, soldiers spinning to face the new threat, and for a split second, I saw his eyes widen. The pincer tightened, my troops pressing the advantage, and his lines began to fray.

In the chaos, Ren broke through, charging straight for me. His fist lashed out, a blur aimed at my jaw. I sidestepped, countering with a kick to his ribs. He grunted, twisting to grab my leg, but I pulled free, landing a sharp jab to his shoulder. We traded blows, each strike a test, a measure of the other's limits—his raw power against my speed.

Sweat stung my eyes, the red sky blurring at the edges. Around us, the battle tilted—his army faltered under the pincer, mine gained ground. Ren's smirk faded, replaced by a gritted snarl as he lunged again. I caught his wrist, twisted, and drove my knee into his midsection, sending him staggering back.

He straightened, breathing hard, violet eyes locked on mine. His soldiers were crumbling, the central objective slipping from his grasp. But he didn't yield—not yet. He raised a hand, rallying what remained of his force, and I knew this wasn't over.

I planted my feet, my own troops rallying behind me, the beacon's light bathing us in its glow. "Last chance, Ren," I said, voice steady.

He grinned, fierce and unbowed. "Bring it."