CHAPTER 89— The "Odd Trio" and the "Loser Trio"(2)
Sigh...
Ritvik sat alone in the sprawling spectacle hall, staring blankly at the floating panoramic screens broadcasting his friends' ongoing match.
'Those idiots.' he thought, his eyes dead and unamused.
On the display, Freshman Group 42 was locked in a tense skirmish. Each member was desperately trying to hold their designated lane: Rowan anchoring the vanguard with his prismatic axe, Sarina managing defensive spellwork from the center, and Damon hovering on the outer flank to sweep up whatever stray projectiles slipped past Sarina's wards.
"This match is getting quite intense, isn't it?"
Ritvik blinked, snapping out of his daze. The voice hadn't come from him. He turned his head slightly to find Lyren Aerilon, the stoic scion of House Aerilon, sitting down right beside him.
"You want something?" Ritvik asked flatly, his tone entirely devoid of enthusiasm or nervousness.
"I just noticed you were the only cadet who has completed your match and still haven't left the hall."
"Well... I was planning to head out, but I'm waiting for my friends to finish." Ritvik replied casually.
"Are those three your friends?"
"Two only. I don't know the third one."
"You mean The axe one?"
"No, i mean the S one."
Hmph..." Lyren let out a short chuckle at Ritvik's blunt, unfiltered responses. He cast a sidelong glance at the sitting boy.
'Strange. Most of the students would get nervous just sitting within arm's reach of a core member of the Elemental House Alliance or Sanctum Sandor. But this guy? He's not only entirely unbothered, he looks downright bored.'
"Is there anything else you wanted to say?" Ritvik asked, not even bothering to turn his head.
Lyren took a slow, deliberate breath. "One thing is obvious: you aren't just sitting here watching matches for casual entertainment or waiting around for your friends."
"Well, you can learn a lot by studying other people's matches," Ritvik scoffed softly. "For example, not to repeat the same mistake as them."
Lyren narrowed his eyes slightly. 'This guy... he's quite interesting.'
"By the way," Lyren said, smoothly pivoting the conversation. "I heard a rumor that Seraphine had sat on your face last week. Is there something complicated going on between you two?"
Ritvik visibly flinched at the painfully uncomfortable question. He raised a hand defensively, trying to radiate as much casual innocence as possible.
"That was all an accident alright. I was just sleeping on a public bench and then she just... Came out of nowhere and parked herself right on top of me. Some passing gossips saw it and blew it entirely out of proportion, Okay. There is nothing going on between us in this lifetime or the next."
"Well, public incidents like that do tend to damage the dignified reputation of the Elemental House Alliance," Lyren noted dryly.
"If you're here to settle a score over some playground rumors, you should go lecture the people spreading them instead of cornering a guy, who is just trying to live peacefully. Besides. That red haired tyra— I mean— Seraphine has given me enough hell for the past week. I don't want a repeat of that."
Lyren chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. Members of the Elemental House Alliance aren't so fragile that we hunt people down over petty gossip."
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say." Ritvik muttered, gluing his eyes back to the arena screen.
"So, what's your professional assessment of this match?" Lyren asked, resting his chin on his knuckles.
Down in the simulation arena, Rowan was swinging his axe, unleashing unstable chop-style projectiles. Sarina was frantically intercepting incoming attacks, while Damon dynamically shifted between offensive pressure and defensive shielding depending on the enemy's shifting rhythms.
Ritvik leaned forward, resting his own chin in his palms.
"Honestly? They are using the most basic strategy ever." Ritvik critiqued, his eyes flickering toward the opposing corner of the arena. 'Well atleast they are using some strategy... on the other hand.'
Across the digital landscape, Repeater Group 3 was operating under an entirely different logic. It looked as though all three senior students were completely winging it, throwing out erratic spells with zero verbal communication—yet, somehow, they moved in an eerie, effortless harmony.
"Those repeaters aren't even bothering with formations or roles, but... they're covering each other's blind spots so seamlessly it's practically flawless."
Lyren leaned back into his seat, looking thoroughly satisfied by Ritvik's analytical breakdown.
"Go on, losers! Wrap it up!"
"Show 'em how it's done!"
A cluster of senior repeaters sitting in the spectator deck pumped their fists, roaring encouragement to Group 3.
Ritvik glanced up at the cheering seniors with dull, lifeless eyes.
'Why on earth are the seniors calling a terrifyingly coordinated group like that 'losers'?'
High above on the observation platform, Instructors Vanika and Valeria were observing the exact same exchange.
"The freshman trio is putting up a surprisingly decent fight," Vanika observed.
"True," Valeria agreed.
"Though it's still anyone's game at this point."
Down below, the senior section cheered, "Go losers, go!"
Vanika blinked, finally giving into her rising curiosity. "I don't understand. Why are the repeaters aggressively calling their own peers 'losers'?"
Valeria smirked. "Oh, well... that's because those three managed to earn the title of the absolute worst-performing students of last academic year."
Vanika glanced sideways at her colleague, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Wait... were they actually in your classes last year?"
"Technically yes, but only briefly. They started out languishing at the bottom in Class C, somehow scraped their way into Class B, and by the end of the year ended up parked in Class A."
Vanika blinked again. "Wait, jumping across three separate classes in a single year is a massive achievement. If they're that capable, why are they labeled losers?"
"Perhaps you'll understand once you actually look over their individual student records," Valeria said, casually tapping a glowing datapad.
She extended the file toward Vanika. Vanika took it, swiping through the digital pages.
"What the...?" Vanika whispered in shock.
The individual testing scores were absurdly dismal. The three students had literally placed dead last—ranks 1, 2, and 3 from the bottom—in every single individual academic exam and solo practical test of the previous year.
"This is ridiculous."
"Yeah I know but it gets better," Valeria smiled knowingly. "The file I just handed you only lists their solo records."
With another flick of her wrist, Valeria transferred a secondary file to Vanika's terminal. Vanika tapped it open, and her eyes instantly dilated in sheer astonishment as she flipped frantically through the new pages.
"Oh..."
"Impressive, right?"
Vanika nodded slowly. In this second record, the exact same three students had consistently ranked among the absolute top five of every single team exercise, group project, and squad combat trial.
"That's their paradox," Valeria explained, crossing her arms.
"Individually, they are catastrophic disasters who fail every baseline metric. But the moment you put them into a group combat scenario, they operate with terrifying synergy. If this academy evaluated students solely on individual performance, they would have been expelled months ago."
"How on earth did students like that even pass the entrance trials?" Vanika asked, bewildered.
"Simple," Valeria chuckled. "Last year's entrance exam was structured entirely in a mandatory group format."
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CHAPTER ENDS