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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“Thankfully, we avoided the plains.”
“It’s thanks to Lee Seok-hyun, isn’t it? That idiot chose the plains, so we dodged a bullet.”
“That’s true. We’re lucky.”
Within the Tanteroi Academy camp, a celebratory atmosphere prevailed.
Despite being last in the rankings the previous year, which meant they had the final pick of territories,
Fate had smiled upon them. They’d secured the third-best terrain: a mix of forest and plains.
“With this terrain, we can at least aim for second place, maybe even first.”
“Yes! You’re right!”
Composed primarily of commoners, the Tanteroi Academy students were known for their relaxed and informal camaraderie.
While they had projected an image of stern discipline during the opening ceremony, it was largely for show.
Equality and freedom—these were the core values of Tanteroi Academy.
“Alright, everyone, I know you’re excited, but we need to hide the flag first.”
Arak, his usual gruff demeanor softened by a smile, led his fellow students.
Their first priority was the most fundamental task in the Territory Capture event: hiding their flag.
“According to our seniors’ records, there are five ideal hiding spots in the forest and plains terrain.”
Unlike Mirinae Academy, where the deep-seated animosity between nobles and commoners made even record-keeping a contentious issue, most academies diligently documented their strategies for future generations.
Tanteroi Academy had a rich history of such records, focusing primarily on strategies for the forest and plains, and the plains themselves.
It was a bitter truth, but since Mirinae and Velutos consistently dominated the top two spots, Tanteroi had become experts in the third and fourth-ranked terrains.
‘But that’s all in the past now.’
With a top-ranked academy having inexplicably chosen the worst terrain, this was their chance to rise through the ranks.
They might even achieve the unthinkable—winning the entire Territory Capture event.
“The terrain changes every year, but the basic layout remains the same. The best hiding spots are…”
Fifteen minutes into the competition.
Arak had yet to issue any commands beyond those related to hiding the flag. His focus remained solely on securing their most valuable asset.
‘There’s no time limit, so there’s no need to rush.’
Dividing their forces, securing food supplies, establishing a base camp—these tasks could wait. Reconnaissance and flag placement were the priorities.
“Arak, the mages said they can’t scout the forest terrain because of the trees, and the mountain terrain is too high for their spells to reach effectively.”
This was the unfortunate reality of Tanteroi Academy. Lacking a strong magic department, they were at a disadvantage when it came to reconnaissance.
While this was a painful truth, Arak wasn’t overly concerned.
“We’re used to it. How about the plains?”
He held out hope that they could at least observe the plains, a terrain with minimal cover.
However…
“…We can’t see the plains either. It looks like they’ve blocked our magic.”
The world rarely cooperated.
While some might find amusement in such unpredictability, Arak found it frustrating.
“They’ve countered our reconnaissance magic?”
How was that even possible on the plains?
Reconnaissance spells would be cast from all directions—how could they possibly counter all of them?
The questions gnawed at him, his thoughts spiraling.
‘Did they choose the plains on purpose? Because they knew they could block our magic?’
If they’d chosen the plains not out of ignorance but with the confidence that they could defend against reconnaissance…
‘Why?’
Arak understood that there had to be a reason behind Lee Seok-hyun’s choice, but he couldn’t grasp the underlying logic.
‘Why the plains? Of all the available terrains, why choose the plains?’
Thirty minutes into the competition.
While Arak remained lost in thought, time marched on.
Most of the Tanteroi students, burdened by their heavy armor, had moved from the stifling forest to the open plains.
And then…
“Fire! The mountain is on fire!”
…it happened.
“Mirinae! Mirinae Academy is attacking!”
“What?! Already?!”
“…!”
At the messenger’s frantic announcement, Arak finally understood.
Why choose the plains despite possessing the ability to block reconnaissance magic?
“…Because it’s the easiest terrain to launch an attack from.”
The open plains provided unobstructed paths to the other territories.
And their first target was Tanteroi Academy.
By the time he realized it, it was too late.
–Crackle, whoosh!
Arak watched in horror as the surrounding forest erupted in flames, the trees transforming into a blazing inferno.
Mirinae Academy’s first victim was Tanteroi.
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The Territory Capture event was, in theory, a simple competition. The first academy to control all territories won.
There were two ways to capture a territory: eliminate the opposing academy’s representative or seize their flag.
Each academy was given a single flag, marked with their symbol, which had to be hidden somewhere within their territory. The flag couldn’t be carried.
And these conditions had transformed every previous Territory Capture event into a drawn-out defensive stalemate.
‘While a representative can transfer their position to someone else just before death to avoid elimination, the flag is different.’
Unlike the representative role, which could be passed on, losing the flag was permanent.
Moreover, losing your flag inflicted a 50% stat debuff, effectively eliminating you from the competition.
The constant fear of being ambushed and having your flag stolen while your main force was away made aggressive strategies incredibly risky. A defensive approach was the only logical choice.
And that made for a boring competition.
Moreover, with no time limit, past Territory Capture events had dragged on for ten days or even longer.
It was a war of attrition.
Armies would set up defenses, secure food supplies, engage in endless reconnaissance and scouting, and then slowly chip away at each other’s forces whenever an opportunity arose. If one academy grew impatient and launched a major offensive, the others would respond in kind, targeting their now-vulnerable base camp.
This cycle of cautious maneuvering and defensive posturing had become the dominant strategy, known as the “holding pattern.”
‘If you capture a flag and are then eliminated, but that captured flag was the last one needed for total control, you instantly win.’
Even if an academy had no surviving students, if they’d managed to capture all flags, even momentarily, they were declared the victors.
This “zero survivors victory” was a rare occurrence, having happened only once in the history of the competition. Nevertheless, it highlighted the importance of the flags, making securing and hiding them the top priority in the early stages of the event.
Teams would dig elaborate hiding spots, deploy illusion magic, and employ every possible tactic to protect their flags. The early game was a predictable dance of reconnaissance, preparation, and cautious maneuvering.
Lee Seok-hyun, however, grew tired of this tedious routine. As the son of a former Rainbow Taxi driver, he had no patience for such predictable, drawn-out affairs.
“Set fire to the forest and drive them towards the plains.”
“What about us?”
“Those who used mana for fire magic, return to the plains and regroup with Bellos.”
“And the martial arts students, regroup with me. Two hundred mages and one hundred Other Studies students, fall back and prepare for a rear ambush.”
The battlefield was constantly shifting, demanding constant adaptation and new directives.
If he hadn’t established a clear chain of command, he would have had to micromanage every detail, wasting precious time.
“Listen up! D Class, Squads 1 and 3, you’re on rear guard duty!”
“E Squad, regroup with Bellos!”
Thanks to his meticulous preparations and the decentralized command structure, he could issue orders efficiently, confident that they would be interpreted and implemented correctly. He provided general directives, allowing his squad leaders to adapt and improvise based on the evolving situation. The further down the chain of command the orders traveled, the more specific and detailed they became.
It was the ideal organizational structure.
The sweet reward for a month of relentless training.
–Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
With a single command, his forces moved like a well-oiled machine, adapting and responding in perfect synchronization.
–Whoosh!
“Aaaaagh! It’s hot! It burns!”
“Of course it burns! It’s fire!”
He roundhouse kicked a student who’d removed his burning armor, sending him back to the coliseum. Eliminated.
The Tanteroi commander was still nowhere in sight.
[Activating General’s Shout. Be mindful of aggro.]
“Incompetent! Utterly incompetent! Arak! Where are you?! I, Lee Seok-hyun, am here! Slaughtering your comrades! I’m coming for you! Where are you, Arak?!”
He roared, announcing his presence, deliberately drawing attention.
This bold provocation served a dual purpose: boosting his own team’s morale while simultaneously demoralizing the enemy.
The Tanteroi students, fleeing the flames in panic, would hear his voice, grasp the situation, and despair.
Fifteen minutes into the attack, with no sign of their commander or any reinforcements…
They would realize the truth.
‘I’ve been abandoned.’
Their will to fight, their knightly spirit, their oaths of loyalty—all meaningless now.
–Clang, clang.
The sound of armor hitting the ground.
It wasn’t just the sound of discarded metal; it was the sound of shattered resolve.
“Arak! Where are you?! I, Lee Seok-hyun, am here! Slaughtering your comrades!”
Invasion. This was an invasion.
You are being invaded.
Look at your comrades, dying helplessly.
I am here.
Where are you?
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