Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

All ten members of both teams came from prominent families. Sergio of Eagle’s Crest Command hailed from the Blackthorn family—one of Everton’s five great families—and ranked second on the Intelligence Bureau list. Tadeo of Stormwatch Academy, from the Starcrest family, ranked first.

Even Quincy of Hollow Fortress, just one spot behind, couldn’t compare. The gap in Original Veins, Force, and Original Instruments was enormous. Tadeo and Sergio each had Flood-level Original Veins and at least four C-grade Original Instruments.

Though they were both Level 4, their combat power was devastating. Even beyond those two, Stormwatch had two top-ten players and two top-twenty, with Eagle’s Crest not far behind.

“This is basically a preview of the finals,” someone muttered.

“What a shame for Cavalier’s Honor Academy. Tadeo’s defense was insane. Their strategy almost killed him with concentrated fire. Who knew he’d hold on?”

“If they had taken Tadeo out in that wave, Eagle’s Crest could have fought while recovering. Their recovery-type Awakener might have given them a shot.”

On paper, Eagle’s Crest was slightly weaker than Stormwatch. In reality, anyone who had watched knew they were close to victory—they just hadn’t landed a decisive blow.

The isolated peaks were far apart, but the spectators were loud, chattering, and Axel could hear some of it. “Are these guys really that strong?”

The winner wouldn’t be confirmed until the timer expired. Axel hadn’t seen the full match, only fragments of conversation from others.

“It’s stressful,” he admitted quietly.

After watching Yara and Quincy duel, Axel knew that if he faced them alone, his Force advantage and resilience would secure him a win. With Life Crystals, he might even handle both. Without them, though? Two Level 4 Awakeners of that caliber would overwhelm him.

Stormwatch still had three top-ten finishers. If his teammates couldn’t hold, Bloodstone Warfare would likely lose.

“No wonder they didn’t want to strategize,” he mused.

Yakov and Yara hadn’t been timid—it was simply that their opponents were overwhelming, and worrying now would achieve nothing.

Axel headed back to his room to recuperate, mentally preparing for the finals.

......

Not far away, on the lone peak belonging to Cavalier’s Honour, Raymond withdrew his gaze from the battlefield and looked at Patricia, who stood beside him with a grey expression.

“Convinced now?” he asked.

Patricia curled her lips but said nothing. They had watched the previous battle unfold.

Though it wasn’t a conventional duel of brute strength—this was a special map—the sudden rise of Axel had genuinely stunned them.

They had assumed he was a cunning opportunist, riding a lucky break. But his recovery and enhancement awakenings left them utterly speechless.

Yara, originally covered in wounds, had restored nearly 80% of her injuries in a matter of moments. And the most terrifying part was yet to come: with Axel’s Explosive Energy, she now unleashed an unstoppable torrent of power!

And Bloodstone Warfare hadn’t even revealed these abilities in their prior encounters.

“If we can’t win… then we can’t win, huh,” Patricia said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “But at least they won’t get past Stormwatch.”

For a moment, laughter erupted around them, the tension breaking, the air light with relief.

Patricia stamped her foot in frustration. “Laugh at your mother… laugh all you want.”

.......

Inside the Olympic Sports Center, the viewing room had fallen silent.

By now, eleven principals from various war academies had gathered, watching the aftermath.

“These kids from aristocratic families… truly remarkable,” someone murmured.

Most of the adults were still replaying the astonishing clash between Eagle’s Crest Command and Stormwatch.

“Tomorrow’s match between Stormwatch and Hollow Fortress won’t hold a candle to today’s,” sighed the principal of Langford War Academy.

Next to him, Imran, principal of Cavalier’s Honour, nudged him and whispered, “Look carefully! Stormwatch’s opponent tomorrow is Bloodstone Warfare.”

The realization spread like wildfire.

“What? Bloodstone Warfare made it to the finals?”

“Bloodstone Warfare beat Hollow Fortress?!”

Luckily, a few spectators had stayed until the end, explaining the situation to those who hadn’t.

“There’s another Level 4 top-tier player in Bloodstone Warfare—the one with the energy cannon?”

“Mr. Tristan, you’re playing dirty!”

Tristan smiled, a rare, satisfied moment washing over him. Axel had surprised him again.

“Originally, we just wanted to give the kid experience, broaden his horizons.”

As the chatter settled, attention turned to Neville, principal of Hollow Fortress.

The middle-aged man, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie, had remained silent throughout the battle and subsequent discussions.

Seeing him quietly seated, the other principals fell silent, aware of the pressure he must have felt.

After a long pause, Neville finally stood, walking toward Tristan. Those nearby paled slightly, expecting a scene of fury.

Instead, Neville stopped beside Tristan, bowed slightly, and saluted.

“Mr. Tristan, congratulations. Bloodstone Warfare is truly supreme.”

The other principals blinked in surprise. Neville, one of the younger principals present at around fifty, was known for his high-profile demeanor and obsession with prestige. He frequently appeared on Krythos’s online platforms, generating significant momentum for Hollow Fortress. No one expected someone so reputation-conscious to show such humility.

Tristan rose as well. “Mr. Neville, you’re being modest.”

Neville forced a polite smile, bowed again, and began to leave. Tristan watched him go, eyes narrowing as he recalled the expression Neville had worn, before following him out.

“Mr. Tristan, is there something you wish to say?”

The hallway was quiet, occupied only by the principals—one elderly, one middle-aged—and their two assistants.

Tristan spoke slowly. “Promoting the reputation of your institution also benefits your students and resources. It’s good, yes—but some things must be done gradually.”

Neville’s eyes, previously dim, brightened. He lowered his head. “You’re right.”

Tristan admired the man more with every word. Neville was very much like him.

“I was a little too impatient earlier,” Neville sighed.

Tristan prodded gently. “Do you need me to say anything on your behalf?”

Neville shook his head, smiling faintly. “I can handle this. I’ll visit you another day.”

With that, Neville and his female assistant continued down the hallway.

Tristan watched them go with quiet admiration. “Come on, let’s head back to the office,” he said to the assistant, following shortly after.

....

In the makeshift office, the assistant paused after hearing Tristan speak. “Are you saying… Mr. Neville isn’t really the type to flaunt his status or care about appearances?”

Tristan took a sip of water, his eyes thoughtful. “People who care about appearances would never admit failure so honestly. They’d spin excuses, cover up mistakes, anything to protect their image.” His admiration was clear.

“But why is he like that?” the assistant asked.

Tristan put down his cup and stared into the distance. “Awakeners are always competing, and the academies are no different. Reputation alone doesn’t cultivate talent. Fame brings better students, better resources.” He paused. “Neville wants to rapidly cultivate a group of elite students, but he’s impatient. That’s all.”

The assistant nodded slowly. She had been surprised by the Intelligence Bureau rankings before the competition. Hollow Fortress had never struck her as being that powerful.

“Then I’ll help him,” Tristan said, a hint of determination in his tone, as he began instructing the assistant.

.....

Four hours had passed since the semifinals ended. Most of the spectators had already left, anticipating the final showdown tomorrow.

The host’s voice rang clear through the Olympic Sports Center’s PA system. “The annual Academy Competition…” The words were crisp, deliberate, carrying through the silent hall.

Neville, phone in hand, walked ahead of his entourage, flanked by academy instructors and assistants.

The host paused for emphasis. “Breaking news: Bloodstone Warfare’s principal, Mr. Tristan, has publicly acknowledged Hollow Fortress’ exceptional combat prowess. In a move that surprises many, he has announced a formal alliance with Hollow Fortress. The two academies will now regularly exchange resources, personnel, and knowledge.”

Neville froze. Not just him—his instructors behind him froze.

“Sir…” Neville muttered under his breath, processing the magnitude of the announcement. The alliance didn’t just mean mutual exchange—it was official recognition from a rival academy. Bloodstone Warfare, one of the most prestigious institutions, had acknowledged Hollow Fortress’ strength.

With this endorsement, Neville’s pressure—both bureaucratic and social—was dramatically eased.

A rare, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you, Mr. Tristan,” he whispered.