“Kick his intelligence aside.”
The fearless leader roared with overwhelming authority, his voice gradually growing bolder and more unrestrained.
“I agree completely. Without any tricks or deceit.”
The dense fog parted as Fabiana’s fierce glare cut through the air. “After three days, we will face each other on equal terms. I am looking forward to it.”
There was no hesitation or reluctance; no cries or complaints. Only steady determination marked the path forward.
The Wolfie, Priestess Rebecca, and White-haired Witch Bemore exchanged solemn glances, their breaths quiet and tense.
Fresh-faced and vigilant, Samimi stood silently beside the others, never uttering a single word.
Behind the window at the edge of the mountain, three small heads peeked out always observing from the shadows, never detected.
The gentle swaying of branches and the rustling of leaves did nothing to hide the brilliance of the clear spring light streaming through.
Yet, even in this serene moment, an ominous tension hovered in the air, the calm before the storm.
The biggest disaster was inevitable; it had already arrived.
The calm before the battle felt thick, the silence between comrades weighed heavy, as if the very air was bracing itself.
The commanding officers gathered, their faces set with grim resolve. This was certain to happen.
Orders were passed down discreetly, the general’s voice steady but low, commanding vigilance and preparation.
Before this, they had enjoyed a fleeting sense of peace, a false security that was now shattered.
The White-haired Witch Bemore arrived at Moon of Darkness Hall, clearly intent on disrupting their plans.
She was undercover, blending into the ranks unnoticed, but always watching, always planning.
The knights scorned the idea of using petty tactics, but Bemore was different—unburdened by such psychological restraints.
Samimi was not a villain; she did not intend to tear things apart carelessly.
The others, including Pig-headed Knight Fabiana and Priestess Rebecca, knew she was no ordinary threat.
The hall’s atmosphere shifted; even the old guards felt the weight of what was to come.
The upcoming challenge was not just a skirmish but a calculated test, an attempt by the rival faction to force a decisive battle.
“This is the real goal of the Fireborn Faction,” the dorm leader said quietly, spreading the notice across the table.
Their objective was clear: to force a confrontation and reclaim their honor through victory.
Rebecca realized the true stakes only now, her awareness dawning slowly.
“Did you foresee this?” Samimi asked with a mocking smile.
“Priestess Rebecca,” Bemore said softly, a hint of sympathy in her voice. “You’ve been outmaneuvered.”
A quiet murmur spread among the gathered students, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
A small, remote fortress like their dormitory meant little to the enemy, but the pride of the defenders was too great to ignore.
“We must retaliate,” the dorm leader insisted.
Rebecca looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration.
She was about to cry when Samimi’s gentle hand lifted her chin, steadying her with a soft but firm grip.
“You can’t beat us one-on-one, nor two-on-two,” Samimi explained coolly, “but four-on-four is another story.”
The dorm leader nodded solemnly.
“Four-on-four is the rule. You four from the Healing School are the designated fighters. We cannot interfere.”
“Priestess Rebecca is sharp only when it suits her,” Bemore remarked, her tone laced with dry humor.
“But I work seamlessly with Wolfie and Niubao. We cut our losses and conserve magic power,” Rebecca said, steadying herself with a breath.
Samimi analyzed the situation carefully. “Two-on-two won’t work against them; that’s why we’ve requested four-on-four.”
“But one of us is a useless priestess,” Bemore teased, a faint smile on her lips.
“Don’t be rude,” Rebecca retorted with a mock glare.
“We’re truly at a disadvantage. Our magic reserves are depleted,” Bemore confessed, turning to Samimi. “I’ve observed you closely. I know your strengths and your weaknesses.”
Samimi said nothing in response.
“You’re giving away too much information with your words. They’ve already seen through you.”
Bemore’s voice turned serious. “If we drain your magic, the battle is theirs.”
She began a thorough analysis, her expression sharpening with focus.
“Will you accept their challenge?” Samimi asked, a playful tone in her voice.
Bemore answered somewhat hastily, her confidence wavering.
“Alas, you’re right. We have nowhere left to hide.”
Samimi let the subject drop, sensing no need to press further.
The dormitory’s defenses tightened, every soul preparing for the coming storm.
The dormitory meeting had officially begun.
Dorm Leader Brata’s smile was faint and bitter, forced even.
Bemore remained silent, maintaining her usual aloofness, watching the room with cold eyes.
No one knew what she was thinking after witnessing Samimi’s persistent defiance.
The tension in the hall was palpable.
Each member gathered in the great hall, their faces set with determination, the weight of responsibility heavy upon their shoulders.
They discussed the inevitable challenge looming before them.
“Everyone must understand the gravity of this. This is a battle not just for survival, but for honor and reputation.”
Brata placed the notification on the table, his voice steady and calm.
“The Saint England faction has sent their best. We must be ready.”
The crowd nodded, knowing the stakes.
“Then what should we do? Resist or yield?”
Samimi’s tone was light, but her eyes burned with intensity.
“Resist,” Bemore replied, her voice firm despite the uncertainty.
“We have no choice.”
The night deepened, but the warriors’ resolve only grew stronger.
Tomorrow would mark the beginning of a war that would shake their very foundations.
But no matter the outcome, they would face it head-on, united.
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