High above, on the airship.
Dorothy had eaten her fill and was finally succumbing to exhaustion. She had been far too excited the night before, only falling asleep in the small hours of the morning. Now, she sat squinting, her small head nodding rhythmically as she drifted off.
An indeterminate amount of time passed before a wave of gasps erupted from the viewing gallery!
Dorothy snapped her bleary eyes open. A tidal wave of discussion flooded the room, making her ears ring.
“The Black Team’s Witch’s Ointment jar has been shattered!”
“The Yellow Team’s ambush was a success!”
“Lulu’anna has turned on her former masters!”
“This is a heavy blow for the Black Team. Without that ointment, no matter how strong those two are, they won’t last until the second round.”
“Who would have thought this would happen?”
“Goodness, the internal strife in Class Five is even more exaggerated than we imagined! Arguments, divisions, defections, and now a complete betrayal… from acting with reckless abandon to being utterly torn apart. Is this a loss of humanity or a collapse of morality?”
…
Dorothy still didn’t quite grasp the full extent of the situation. She forced her eyes wide, focusing through the long-range glass until she finally saw the state of the field.
Her heart sank to the bottom of her chest.
This is bad. Even if the Master has the Demon Horns, without the Stigmata, the mana recharge rate will drop by a third. And what about poor Plum? Once the last of the Stigmata fades, every bit of mana she uses is gone for good. If she’s squeezed dry, she’s going to turn into a shriveled plum…
The situation on the field was changing at a breakneck pace, leaving everyone breathless.
The ‘Weather Forecast’ emitted a clear, melodic chime. The sound was bright and vibrant, rippling through the air like waves. The churning, thick clouds in the sky spread out, resembling a soft sheet of grey velvet.
The temperature plummeted. The airship, being at high altitude, was hit by the cold front first. Frost began to crawl from the edges of the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the center, making a tooth-gritting creak.
Suddenly, the world was consumed by a blizzard.
Wang Yue and Medeili were traversing a narrow stone crevice when they felt the icy draft and realized the climate had shifted. Emerging from the gap, they were met by a flurry of shimmering light—wind-swept snow that had already draped the world in silver.
Wang Yue stepped forward, the snow making a pleasant, crisp crunch beneath her boots. She glanced sideways, only to find Medeili with her eyelashes lowered, looking troubled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
The orange-haired girl shook her head gently. The movement shook loose the snow from her hair, making her locks look even more vivid and bright, like pieces of orange candy.
“Keep your spirits up!” Wang Yue reached out and brushed the snowflakes off the girl’s small head.
“Mmh…” Medeili exhaled a puff of white mist.
As they continued forward, an unsettling vibration suddenly rose from beneath their feet.
Rumble!
A rolling wave of sound crashed over them. Wang Yue looked toward the source, but her vision was blocked by massive boulders on all sides. She scrambled up to a high vantage point and saw it: a kilometer away, a magnificent pyramid was rising out of the earth!
The massive stone blocks were cut perfectly flat, stacked into a four-sided staircase that led to a plateaued altar at the summit. At the center of the altar stood a statue of a Plumed Serpent Demon—winged but faceless, its limbs withered and its form hideous, shimmering with an eerie black light.
Wang Yue thought for a moment. This was likely a “supply drop” mechanic. One would appear during each phase, allowing contestants to obtain powerful items.
In the distance, she spotted several small red dots. It was the Red Team; they had already begun climbing the steps. Their luck was exceptional—the drop had spawned right next to them.
“Let’s go!”
Wang Yue kicked off the ground and leaped, covering ten meters in a single bound as she charged toward the altar.
The Pyramid.
The Red Team moved in a wedge formation, their movements synchronized with a level of cohesion that spoke of rigorous training. Upon reaching the altar, the four girls approached the Plumed Serpent Demon statue.
Standing at its base, Loran Wright looked at the massive stone foundation. A cubic section of the rock had been hollowed out, revealing a square shaft similar to an elevator. At the top, a rigid suspension system held ropes that descended deep into the pyramid.
On the ground before the statue lay a rectangular, movable stone slab. The carving on the slab depicted a demon with twin wings and curling horns. It crouched on the ground, holding a pair of scales in its hand, reminiscent of Anubis. On the left tray of the scale sat a young girl; on the right tray lay a radiant treasure.
Seeing the suspension structure and the carvings, the brilliant Loran immediately deduced the mechanism.
“It requires a sacrifice,” she said. “Someone has to stand on the stone slab and descend into the pyramid. The item will then rise from the shaft. A one-for-one trade.”
“I’ll go,” a brownish-haired girl beside her said, stepping forward.
