Chapter 489: Teamwork (1/2)
As they said, the tenacity of lower-tiered monsters compensated for the lack of firepower. Even so, they were by heart, weak, and many knew of it. Spells and gunshots made echo upon the start. The triangle formation, split into three stationed at each end, moved farther apart. The main-formation as the instructors referred to; largened to allow movement. The individual groups, split to have their own formations. Support focused on healing, others on barriers, enhancement, and more, fell into the Magecraft division who had to account for diversity. Therefore, the battlefield evolved within seconds of battle.
The vanguard was strong, ungodly so. Anna's statement of her, Lampard, and Frost setting the standards couldn't be any truer. They took on hobgoblins using strategy and coordination – Frost, a user of primarily a sword and shield, stood like a rock. Lampard jumped onto their greenish arms to strike at the head, eyes, ears, depriving the senses. Lastly, Anna, a terror on the field, conjured a mid-tier imprisonment spell; Rabbit's Den. It spawned a legion of white-furry creatures that impaled any who treaded on the field.
Military-Arts didn't falter, their group split into two. Rena ran to the front, Leonard joined the support unit, and Jen the guardian division. Their job, kill all stray and monitor the field. In the clamor of adrenaline and violence, the mind would blank at any moment. Group A, B, and C showed prowess in outfighting, outwitting, and outplaying the other students.
Up above stood with a hardcovered notebook, Mr. Denver watched holding uninterest. The name field margins underlined and graded the performances.
'Remembering name and faces, any minute detail, Mr. Denver has a photographic memory. A tempest working for the Guild's administration. He presides over the ranking from Tier-8 Steel till Tier-3 Silver. If he doesn't like the fighting style; bid farewell to adventuring. There are ways around his test, though, most independent guilds want that man's signature on a fighter's tag,' thought Melisa stood in arms-crossed. Her jurisdiction of monitoring the fight lowered to a mere spectator. 'He's come for the evaluation of adventurers, a ranking exam. If one performs adequately, they can by-pass the guild's ceremony and be given a higher tier. The reverse goes the same, we can expect people being degraded.' The grey cloud of questions and answers waned her mind into a state of, '-what am I doing?'
Further along the line, after the fearsome Denver, arrived Beth. Her being the vice-leader of Pegasus brought more adorned fame. The fighters below showcased their best to grab her attention. Being noticed would change lives. Pegasus dropped in rank during the last few years, she reached her early forties and took refuge as administrator as opposed to a fighter. Long were the days of blood and sweat. ”They are quite skilled,” said she fixed on the trio of Frost, Anna, and Lampard.
”Yes,” added Mr. Denver, ”-showing off abilities. A crowd-pleaser if I may add. Those three are being supported by three, look, there's her, her, and him.” He pointed to Rena, Ila, and Cole.” The latter was pretty unnoticeable, a lack of presence caused by his specialty; assassinations. Clocked in black, the only visible 'living part' was the eyes. The boy jumped from prey to prey, killing with one shot.
”Good eye,” voiced Misna, ”-the vanguard is strong. Goblins might be too little a challenge for them,” turned to Fletcher, ”-how about calling onto the Summoning Division?”
”No, no,” the head shook, ”-we have yet to bring out the big guns,” a sadistic half-smile gave chills.
'What can they be thinking?' wondered she frantically looking for a certain boy, '-what about him, how much has he grown since then?'
Below, away from the fighting stood Igna, alone and without purpose. 'The battlefield,' he thought with a massive top-side overlay blocking his sight. 'The vanguard is breaking, the attack unit of magecraft is getting too excited.'
”Would you like to try one of my ability?” asked Éclair.
”What will that be?”
”The ability to process and calculate future outcomes.”
”Can you calculate any situation I give?”
”Yes, you need but envision it for I have the power to read your thoughts and feelings.”
”Bit creepy,” he shrugged,”-well, you're an assistant I trust with my life.” And so, the spirit tracked his focus, '-the vanguard will fall. The goblins are starting to lessen their push. Something is amiss. We're getting cut in numbers but they don't press on, it's not our fighting capabilities, far from it, it's a telling sign of danger.'
*Any lower-tier monster will instinctually back away to allow for a stronger monster,* prompt a response from Éclair.
'What are they planning?' for the first time, while most focused on the battle ahead, Igna sought the top for answers. Multiple portraits bearing names and personal information spouted, '-Instructor Fletcher is up to something.'
”Any possibilities the Guild has a Tier-8 monster?”
”Affirmative, a 30% chance of it being an Ogre.”
'I get it,' he changed to the hobgoblins,'-they are tier 9 small fries. A tier-8 and even Tier-7 Ogre wouldn't be hard to capture considering the people here. Vice-leader of Pegasus, a guild that has their hands in capturing and taming monsters. It makes sense now.' The ambling beasts cowered by shuffles of their bare feet. 'Éclair, can I join the battle now?'
'Sure, have a blast,' said it changing the hue from blue to red. The display moved to allow only crucial information, monster location in the forms of arrows, allies as white, and things of interest in black. No intrusive in the least, the addition of a fragmented piece of the overall map gave more situational awareness. Éclair was a boon surpassing boon of gods and curse of demons alike. A man-made object which evolved beyond the point of recognition, the spirit was smarter than its creators and more powerful than kingdoms. The only command, '-serve and protect the master and his possessions.'
”Looks like the boy from the Trader's guild caught on,” smiled Fletcher, ”-Guild Leader Haru, your disciple sure is smart.”
”Whatever,” she rolled her eyes.
”Lampard, help me slay this hobgoblin!” voiced Frost pressured by bone-crushing swings.
”Can't do,” said he crowd controlling a horde of thirty, ”-if I move now, they'll breakthrough.”
”They're smart,” said Rena, ”-they've parted to the left and right, targeting our sides. Frost, your alone on the front.”
”Where's Anna?” the wind knocked out his lungs, *-cough.*
”At the back, we've lost the left side. Cole's injured and Ila is with her.”
”Where are the rest of the vanguard?” asked he in desperation.
”Look behind,” said Lampard as if it was an easy thing to do. Pulling all the strength in his back foot, '-damn it,' *Ice Barrage.* Ice projectiles summoned to impale and lock the hobgoblin in place. 'Damn it, I did have to rely on my magic to survive.' On all fours, he beheld a terrifying sight of reckless abandon. The formation broke, the groups were independent, wanting to impress caused discord. There even hosted battles between individuals. Results, healers were overwhelmed and soon out of mana. The magecraft division was useless so late in the fight.
”This is a losing battle,” said Lampard overwhelmed by greater numbers.
”I can't hold this much,” added Rena using a singular sword. 'If only that pest didn't bite me earlier.'