CHAPTER 134: THE RAFT ON THE SEA

The hyena and Bhola immediately fell silent.

From behind them, something slithered into view.

A reptilian head, jaw heavy and lined with jagged teeth, emerged from the shadows. Jagged spines jutted from its crown like a crown of blades. Its forelimbs ended in three massive claws, each longer than a human hand, covered in crimson, bone-plated armor.

Its back bristled with razor-sharp crimson scales, spines growing larger down its body, forming a deadly fin-like ridge. The spines were thinly connected by dark membranes, giving it the appearance of a hellish dragon.

Its long, thick tail, ending in a spear-like tip, dragged behind it with a screeching scrape.

As it approached, its claws scratched against the stone, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present.

The beast’s reptilian crimson eyes locked onto its companions.

Both Bhola and the hyena lowered their heads.

The creature’s growl reverberated through the chamber:

"Follow... the... orders... Eat... chaos... That... all."

Behind them, more figures emerged—humans, but eerily silent, covered from head to toe in tight black clothing. Only their eyes were visible through the slits in their hoods.

One of them walked up to the trembling students and placed a hand on one of their shoulders.

"Good work," he said flatly. "We’ll take it from here."

With no further words, the monsters and their cloaked allies exited the teleportation chamber.

Back at the Stadium...

The umpire crouched down, eyes scanning the ground before he picked up the coin.

He stood tall, raising his voice—amplified by the arena’s magic:

"Winner of the toss is..."

He paused.

The stadium went silent.

Tension thickened like fog. Thousands leaned forward.

"VEYLOR CLUB!" the umpire shouted.

In an instant, the crowd erupted.

"VEYLOR! VEYLOR! VEYLOR!"

The chants thundered through the arena, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Purple flags waved like ocean currents, the Veylor side drowning the stadium in sound and pride.

Aslan smiled, turning toward Darian with a friendly nod.

Darian didn’t respond. His expression was unreadable, cold.

Aslan blinked, his smile faltering—but he said nothing and walked toward the umpire.

"What will be the zone?" he asked, voice calm.

The umpire smirked slightly. "Raft on the Sea."

A scream escaped Aslan’s lips, loud and raw:

"WHAT?!"

The umpire simply chuckled, offering no explanation.

Aslan let out a long sigh. "...We’ll be the attackers."

The umpire nodded.

Without a word, Darian turned and descended the stairs first, his silver armor catching the sunlight. Aslan followed, his face tight with frustration.

Riven glanced sideways at his teammate and chuckled.

"Why the gloomy face? We won the toss, didn’t we?"

Aslan let out a deep sigh.

"It’s not about the toss. Yeah, we won—but the zone is going to be ’Raft on the Sea.’"

Riven raised an eyebrow. "What does that even mean?"

Aslan frowned. "The battle arena will be exactly like a raft floating on water. Unstable. Wobbling. Imbalanced. The surface shifts like the sea itself—waves, swaying platforms, constantly moving."

Riven’s eyes widened.

"Isn’t that... illegal? That’s straight-up interference."

Aslan shook his head.

"No. It’s not illegal. It’s been used before in past tournaments. It’s one of the toughest zones ever created. Especially brutal... for defenders."

On the other side of the arena...

Darian approached the Rebel team, his heavy silver armor glinting under the morning sun. Just as he opened his mouth to speak—

The cheeky brat popped out from behind him and gave him a slap on the back.

"Don’t worry, Captain! You lost even after picking Phoenix for the first time!" he said with a grin.

Darian’s brown eyes narrowed, and he shot the boy a cold, piercing glare.

The brat blinked, startled, and stumbled back a few steps. His grin vanished.

Tina frowned, stepping in with concern written across her face.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Darian held her gaze for a moment, then exhaled.

"...I’m fine."

Luther stepped forward, trying to lift the mood with a bright smile.

"Don’t worry about the toss, Captain. We’ll win the match either way."

Darian nodded silently. He turned, slowly scanning the faces of his team—one by one.

His eyes trembled slightly.

Then, his voice rose—firm and thunderous:

"We’re the defenders. The zone is ’Raft on the Sea.’"

A stunned silence fell.

Eyes widened. Mouths parted in disbelief.

Darian didn’t wait.

"Let’s huddle up and lock in our strategy."

That snapped them out of it.

They moved quickly, circling up around their captain.

Tina’s crimson eyes sharpened with resolve. She raised her voice, clear and commanding:

"We’ve trained for this. We fused the best of both our teams."

Everyone nodded, fire in their eyes.

"Yes, Vice-Captain!" they chorused.

Tina smiled warmly, then turned to Darian.

"Captain—you’ll be our first wall. You’ll take the front, in the first column."

Darian nodded, his expression unreadable, unnaturally serious.

Tina hesitated briefly—then let it pass.

It’s the pressure of the finals, she told herself.

Tina turned to Alex.

"You’ll take the second-last column—you’re our anchor."

Then she looked to Selene.

"Selene, you’re in the middle—fifth column."

Her eyes shifted to Rina.

"Rina, you’ll be in the eighth column, right in front of Alex."

"Luther, you’re on the last column—our final shield."

She paused, then narrowed her eyes at the cheeky brat.

"You’ll be in your usual trapper column."

Finally, she tapped her own chest.

"I’ll hold the second column."

Tina scanned the team once more, her gaze sharp and fiery.

Then, her voice rang out like thunder:

"We will win this! Rebel Team will be the next champions!"

"HOOO!"

Their chorus echoed across the arena as the team broke the huddle, hearts pounding, ready for war.

On the other side of the battle arena, a similar strategy huddle had just ended—but the energy was different. More aggressive. Less unified.

The attacker team broke their circle, voices rising in a sharp chorus:

"YES!"

Their chant echoed across the stadium, drawing cheers from their loyal section of spectators.

They marched into the battle arena and stood in formation—a straight line, staring down the defender team already stationed in their columns.

Lyra stepped forward, pulling out her curved daggers. She crouched low, knees bent, a shimmering layer of water swirling around her feet. Her dark hair flowed behind her like a trailing shadow.

Riven drew his Dawn Breaking Daggers, rolling his shoulders and relaxing into a loose stance. His violet eyes scanned the defender team—assessing, calculating.

His gaze stopped on Selene.

For a moment, the world seemed to pause.

She stood poised in her tight blue leather armor, every curve defined, every movement controlled. The armor hugged her like a second skin—elegant, fierce, alluring.

A cold smirk crept across Riven’s lips. He licked them slowly.

She appeared ideal dream fantasy girl, a beautiful, tender and sexy angel.

Then, his gaze moved—landing on the boy in the second-last column.

Alex.

His jaw clenched. Fingers tightened around his blades.

Rage flooded him.

Him.

The thought alone made his blood boil.

He crouched slightly, breath slow and low—ready to leap, to strike, to tear.

Next to him, Aslan stood tall, short sword in hand, lanky arms loose but ready. His large, watchful eyes swept over the defenders.

His gaze paused on Tina and Darian, standing near each other.

He tilted his head and muttered under his breath,

"Why are they both on the same team?"

WHISTLE BLEW!

30:00

Another sharp whistle followed.

The crowd fell silent.

29:59

The timer ticked—and the platform began to move.

The smooth white battlefield wobbled violently, rocking like a massive wooden raft tossed on a stormy sea. The defenders shifted, arms out, trying to keep balance.

Footing became a battle in itself.

The platform lurched.