"Is this really necessary?"
Kuse cast his eyes down slightly, looking at the document Lanqi held out to him.
According to the rules of this official match, there were indeed certain liability waivers and risk disclosures, but when Student Council President Monaster negotiated with them, it had merely taken the form of a notarized oral agreement overseen by Dean Sphintos.
The document before him now simply spelled out the rules in explicit detail. Once signed, it would carry formal legal effect.
The terms were concise and straightforward, devoid of any traps—simply put, the contest would determine not only victory, but life and death.
Of course, with the School of Knights' Arena protected by an ancient field barrier ritual of the highest tier, loss of life was unlikely to occur.
"To standardize the competition, the participating contestants should set an example," Lanqi said in a solemn, impartial tone.
"Very well, suits me fine."
The corners of Kuse's mouth twitched slightly as he took the document with a vicious sneer.
Although the opposing group looked a bit bizarre right now, the gap in power was far too stark. Mere bluffs and psychological warfare would hardly bridge it.
With this life-and-death waiver, he would be able to strike without the slightest restraint and show these reckless fools what true cruelty meant.
After looking through the contents and finding nothing amiss, Kuse and the other fighters signed the agreement.
Kuse then swept his gaze across the five people behind Lanqi, as if he could hardly wait to brutally ravage them.
"Then would both sides please create some distance between yourselves. Once the coaches exit the stage, the barrier can be activated to officially begin the match," announced the referee after collecting the *School of Knights' Arena Team Combat Competition Liability Waiver and Risk Acknowledgment*, now signed by all ten fighters.
"Heh."
Sneering, Kuse glanced back at Lanqi before turning away, drawing his thumb across his neck in a gesture clearly meant to tell Lanqi: *You're next.*
Lanqi paid him no mind. Holding the coach's clipboard in one hand, he stepped down from the dueling stage.
He never wasted words.
Raindrops drifted down from the dark clouds, whipped by the chilly wind against the arena's barrier.
As all the contestants took their positions, the murmur of the spectators grew into a lively buzz in anticipation of the impending duel. Some clutched hot drinks in their hands, trying to stave off the cold, while others clung tightly to friends and family beside them, sharing each other's warmth.
"Right now, the betting odds for the fighters from Aloran Royal Academy against Ikerite Academy are nearly one to six-point-five."
"The match that was halted halfway through earlier—word is the gap in strength was just too vast. After all, they have Kuse, a tier-six, while the strongest on Ikerite's side is only tier-five."
"Let's see if Coach Lanqi can bring about any change."
Although the aura of Ikerite Academy's team when entering the stage earlier had seemed a bit too bizarre,
on second thought, it might just be part of their style—making the contest more suspenseful and entertaining for the underdog on paper.
As the clock hands pointed toward the zenith, the ancient clock tower of Ikerite Academy began to chime on this winter afternoon. The deep, rhythmic tolling resonated through the air, melding with the spectators' irrepressible cheers inside the arena.
When the final chime rang out across the arena, the match would begin; victory and defeat, glory and desolation, would all be decided in the moments to come.
At the center of the combat square, the ten contestants faced each other from opposite ends. The tension was strained to its absolute limit; the slightest movement from either side would ignite a tempestuous clash.
Amid the howling winds of the dim arena, the standoff between the two sides became the sole focus of all eyes, everyone holding their breath for the decisive opening moment.
"Match—begin!!"
After the third toll, the referee swung his arm and roared, and the cheers reached their fever pitch.
Both sides opted for direct assault tactics!
Ten figures all advanced forward in a probing approach.
The Ikerite Academy side, initially expected to widen the distance and play defensive counterattack tactics, instead resembled starved, ravenous beasts unleashed from their cages.
At the same time, they began deploying the only magical items permitted in this match—the magic cards bound to their bodies.
"Wait, isn't this match supposed to be a pure contest between fighters?"
A wave of surprised cries rippled through the spectator stands.
Generally speaking, fighters unskilled in spells would fill their limited card slots with enhancement and immunity spell cards to maximize their innate physical strength, hand-to-hand combat skills, and agility.
Yet the fighters from Ikerite Academy had already used equipment cards to don jet-black heavy armor, and they even brandished bloodstained greataxes, scythes, and serrated broadswords in their hands. The terrifying aura and eerie grins on their faces made them look precisely like a pack of bloodthirsty butchers.
In that instant, the fighters from Aloran Royal Academy, who had originally intended to clash head-on, halted in their tracks, visibly taken aback.
Just looking into the eyes of those figures in the distance sent a chill running through the bare-handed fighters.
Heavy warriors could take hits and deal damage, their drawback being sluggishness; light warriors were nimble with high burst damage, but relatively fragile.
This terrain, seemingly an open field, was actually a beast cage once enclosed by the barrier. If the heavy warriors acted even more shamelessly and scattered spells like caltrops, they could completely shut down the fighters' agility.
Strictly speaking, the rules did not prohibit bringing weapon equipment cards, but since everyone was a fighter, it was taken for granted that they would use weapons like boxing gloves or gauntlets.
But none of that was the crux of the matter.
The truly alarming thing was that the eyes of those Ikerite fighters were bulging almost out of their sockets, webbed with blood vessels as if they hadn't slept for days. Their pupils were abnormally dilated, bloodshot and feverish.
The muscles on their faces twitched as if from prolonged strain, their lips quivering and their breath coming fast and ragged, every inhalation accompanied by an eerie shudder.
Clad in heavy armor, they advanced with their heads constantly twitching and shaking, as though fighting to suppress some inner agony and madness.
Their attire and mental state finally triggered an instinctive sense of dread in the people from the Aloran Kingdom.
Others might act unconvincingly.
These guys didn't look like they were acting!
"Hehehehe... time to slaughter the pigs..."
The laughter of the Soul of the Fighter members sounded like the lowest, heaviest bass notes of a piano, tinged even with a metallic resonance.
The only thing that could slake their thirst was the blood and marrow of the pigs before them.
In the elevated spectator box, Loren's eyes went wide, and he pushed against the table to lurch to his feet.
Were these five really students of Ikerite Academy?
If someone claimed they were Resurrection Church cultists, Loren would have had his doubts.
Even Resurrection Church cultists usually didn't look like this!
Meanwhile, down on the combat square.
"Kill!!!"
"Fight!!!"
The fighters leaned forward as if dragged along by the blades in their hands, launching an astonishingly fast, ferocious charge!
Chapter 223