Chapter 45: Second Round

In every conflict there's a moment when silence weighs more than the roar of swords.
That exact instant when the calm before chaos forces hearts to slow… so they can hear the inevitable.
Names have been written.
Paths have been traced.
And though it may look like a simple contest, every choice, every duel, is a new crack in a world already on the verge of breaking.
Because it’s not only about who wins in the arena, but who can hold onto their cause when the price of victory might be losing everything.

While laughter echoes through the gilded halls of a banquet masquerading as celebration, beyond —in the shadows— the strings that will decide the fate of the realms are already being pulled.
And among secret missions, wounds that still bleed, and names returned from oblivion, the players have been placed on the board… though they don’t yet know whether they are pieces or merely sacrifices.
The game goes on.
War dresses itself as a tournament.
And the second act…
…is about to begin.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Cameras floated above the celestial coliseum, emitting a soft hum that faded into the echoes.
The stage was flawless: white marble reflecting the light, golden columns rising toward a star-filled sky that seemed endless.
At the center podium, Hermes adjusted his cloak with elegance. The spheres, aligned before him, pulsed like hearts about to awaken.
—As you know, dear spectators —Hermes announced with a contained smile—, the combat format will be decided by the institute that placed highest in last year’s tournament.
It may be a one-on-one duel… or an all-out brawl.
Whatever they deem most advantageous… or most entertaining.
That will be up to each institution.
Very well, let us begin.

One by one, the members of the Council of Gods stepped forward to the central table.
Their hands rested on the spheres, selecting numbers veiled by ancient symbols.
Eyes fixed on every decision, as if the mere act of watching could alter fate.
The last sphere was taken by Anubis. His face, impassive, was as serene as the masks that watch over the dead.
Then two spheres began to glow.
—The first matchup —Hermes announced— will be between the Bimora Institute, commanded by the goddess Pachamama, and the Migats Institute, under the command of the god Oggun.
Bimora will choose the format, having finished seventh last year, while Migats placed tenth.

A murmur ran through the stands.
Two mid-tier opponents… which only meant one thing: the true clashes had yet to begin.
—Two manageable rivals are gone —Aphrodite whispered, wineglass in hand—. This is getting complicated.

Another flash of light lit the sky. Two new spheres flashed brightly.
—The second matchup —Hermes continued— will be between the GODS Institute, commanded by the god Zeus, and the Zutarts Institute, led by Huitzilopochtli.
Zutarts will host and choose the format, having finished among the top six last year.

Huitzilopochtli smiled, baring his fangs.
—I hope you won’t disappoint us this year, as always, Zeus. Since that boy… you’ve only been falling.
—Shut up if you don’t want me to pulverize you, you disgusting hummingbird.
—You talk a lot. But you’re not even two percent of what you used to be.
—I don’t need more than 0.00001% of my power to break your face.
—You damned bastard.

The air crackled. Sparks floated, invisible but real.
The students watched in silence: some tense, others with restrained smiles.

Yohei (thinking): Zutarts, huh… I’ll tear them apart.
Shu (thinking): There’s one of the top ten in the gold rank… how strong will they be?
Sara (thinking): Brother… father… grandfather… I promise I’ll win for all of you.

In a dark corner, a chained figure breathed with difficulty.
Isaac, gaunt but still steadfast, raised his head.
—Hold on… everyone…

One final combination of light illuminated the ethereal screen.
—And finally —Hermes announced—, the Nede Institute, commanded by Anubis, will face the Wettins Institute, under the command of the goddess Mahuika.
—Be gentle with my kids, young Anubis —Mahuika said in a warm voice.
—I’ll try… Mistress Mahuika —he replied, bowing his head.
—You better. Or I’ll cast an evil eye on you.

Anubis let out a slight, nervous laugh as Hermes closed the event.
—And with that, dear spectators… the first round concludes.
We will meet again soon for the semifinals and the grand final of the Tournament of God.
Until then.

The signal faded.
Silence filled the hall.
Some faces showed determination; others, fear disguised as calm.
—As you have just seen —Aphrodite said, raising her voice—, our match will be against the Aztec institute Zutarts.
We will fight on their territory, under their rules.
Therefore, special missions will be assigned in other territories starting tomorrow.
Each group will be evaluated on effectiveness and execution.
One week before the fight… once we know the format and results, the chosen members will be announced.
Understood?
—Yes! —they all responded in unison.
—Good.
Enjoy the rest of the party.
There is still time… to breathe.
—Cheers!

The lights came back on.
Laughter, music, toasts.
But beneath that forced joy…
everyone’s eyes were fixed in the same direction.
The future.
And the future… smelled of gunpowder.

The music kept pulsing through the great hall. Glasses chimed. Laughter filled every corner of the mansion.
But on one of the balconies, the air felt different: cold, razor-sharp, expectant.

—What do you want now, Poseidon? —Aphrodite asked without turning, her voice a contained blade.
The sea god smiled with contempt and slid a sealed parchment across the railing: Zeus’s emblem stamped in wax like a sentence.
—A special authorization, —Poseidon said, his voice calm—. Zeus gave this to me personally to select some students for a… confidential mission.
—A mission? —Aphrodite tilted her head—. What kind of idiocy are you cooking up now?
—If you have complaints, you know who to take them up with. —Poseidon nodded toward Zeus—. My chosen ones will come with me.
—For what…?

The question was cut short by an arrow formed entirely of water that tore through the air with violent force. It was direct and precise: aimed for Poseidon’s head.
He turned his torso in a single motion. The arrow embedded itself in a sapphire wall, which erupted into a shower of stones and light.
The explosion cut the music. The party froze.
—Looks like… the mission can’t wait, —Poseidon murmured as dust drifted in slow layers.

In the nearby ocean, a vision rose like a bad omen: the dark mass of a colossal squid’s head sinking through the depths as if it had watched everything since the dawn of time.
Students rushed to the balcony: some alarmed, others already with weapons in hand, all with racing pulses.
—What do we do here? —Yohei asked, not fully understanding.
—Good question, —Yuki replied—. Why are only the three of us here? And what the hell was that thing?
—I’d like to know that too, —Aphrodite said, fixing her gaze on Poseidon.

He looked at them. His eyes shone with a calm that smelled of storm.
—You’re here because you’ll be part of a high-secret mission. Your destination: Atlantis.
—Atlantis? —Yohei crossed his arms, incredulous—. Infiltrate it? Have you gone mad?
—Not as mad as my son, —Poseidon answered, and a hard edge fell into his voice—. Years ago, Triton attempted a coup. He took the throne from me. Since then, the kingdom shut its doors. If we tried to enter now, war would break out. But there’s news: they want absolute independence. The coalition is considering intervention. First we need intel. We must get in. You will be our eyes.
—And why involve my students? —Aphrodite spat.
—Because three students on an exchange mission don’t raise suspicion. —Poseidon fixed his gaze on them—. And if everything goes well, we might avert a massacre.

Yohei thought a moment, weighing his words with tight lips.
—Very well, —he said at last—. But tell me the most important thing: how many points is this mission worth?
Poseidon smiled, humorless.
—You’ll know… if you return alive.
—I’m in. —Yohei nodded.
—Me too. —Yuki didn’t hesitate.

All eyes turned to Zef. He remained silent, staring at the horizon.
—And you? —Poseidon asked.
Zef didn’t speak. He nodded. His eyes burned with contained rage.
—Perfect. —Poseidon put the parchment away—. You will depart tomorrow from the port. Jason will take you to Atlantis. There your true training will begin.
—See you tomorrow, then.

Far away, in the darkness where light does not exist, a crystal capsule rested among corals and ruins. Pale-glowing fish danced around it like tiny stars.
Inside, an obsidian throne. Upon it, Triton. Skin the blue of midnight seas. A gaze that cut.

—I-I’m sorry, sir, —stammered a soldier—. Poseidon detected my presence… I couldn’t complete the mission.
Triton descended the steps with measured pace; the floor vibrated under each footfall. He stopped before the soldier, cold.
—Useless. —The word fell like an axe.

From the shadow emerged a colossal shark. Its eyes were glowing embers. In an instant of voracity it devoured the soldier. The blood dissolved into the water — ink vanishing in the sea.
Triton smiled, stretching his lips into a grin that never reached warmth.
—Prepare yourself, father, —he whispered, and the promise hung among the algae and ruins—. We will meet again… very soon.