Jonathan snapped his fingers, and thick green vines sprouted from the gym floor, curling around the rim of the court. As they retracted, they revealed numerous dodgeballs nestled within their coils. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the vines released the balls, sending them scattering across the gym floor.
Before anyone else could react, Charles activated his ability. His eyes glowed faintly as every ball on the court levitated into the air, drawn toward him as if pulled by invisible strings. The dodgeballs hovered around him in a perfect formation, orbiting his head like a miniature solar system.
“Nice work, Charles. I've got the last one,” Iris said, her tone calm but her eyes gleaming with a fiery determination. With a swift motion, she conjured a bow and arrow made entirely of flames. The fiery arrow crackled in the air as she nocked it and took aim at Rook.
Rook, whose right arm had morphed into a thick, writhing tentacle, managed to grab one of the balls just in time to raise it in defense. But Iris's arrow shot forward with a blazing streak, piercing straight through the dodgeball and bursting it into a shower of singed rubber fragments.
“Hey! Is that even allowed?” Rook shouted, stumbling back in alarm as the ashes of the destroyed ball rained down.
Jonathan’s voice echoed through the gymnasium, calm but firm. “Absolutely fair. I did say you could use your abilities, didn't I? You're more than welcome to destroy each other's dodgeballs. We’ve got plenty more where those came from, and if necessary, I’ll just summon a fresh batch.”
“Incoming!” Maxwell called out, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Brace yourselves!”
Iris’s eyes narrowed as she began issuing orders, her voice steady and commanding. “Theo, blind the tentacle boy. Now.”
Without hesitation, Theo activated his ability. His own eyes flared with a surge of shimmering aura, and Rook's sclera suddenly turned jet black. It was as if a curtain of darkness had been pulled over his vision, leaving him stumbling and disoriented.
“One of them can mess with your vision!” Rook shouted, stumbling backward and swinging his tentacle blindly. “Cover me!”
With a burst of telekinetic force, Charles launched the seven dodgeballs he had been holding, sending them hurtling through the air toward the disoriented Rook. The dodgeballs split off in various directions, forming a barrage aimed to overwhelm the Beta students.
Maxwell sprang into action, ripping one of his gleaming angelic feathers from his wings. It glowed with a bright intensity, morphing in his grip into a long sword made of solid light. He swung it in a wide arc, cleaving through the oncoming balls in quick succession. Each dodgeball split cleanly in two, bursting apart as if they were made of nothing more than paper.
“These abilities… they’re a lot more dangerous than I expected,” Maxwell muttered, his grip tightening on the sword of light.
The air was alive with tension as both teams braced for the next move. The clash of abilities and quick reflexes had only just begun, and the true test of skill and strategy was still ahead. Iris's gaze flickered toward Maxwell, who stood defiantly on the other side of the court, the faint light of his weapon still glinting in his eyes.
The silent acknowledgment between Iris and Maxwell was like a spark igniting a powder keg. Neither could afford to underestimate the other. This wasn't just a test of skill; it was a struggle for dominance, where the lines between game and battle blurred beyond recognition.
Iris let out a quiet chuckle, her gaze never leaving Maxwell. "He's both my enemy and the one who must become my ally. I can see now why my future self lost to him," she murmured, almost as if savoring the challenge.
The tension in the air seemed to thicken as Jonathan's vines snaked out from the edges of the court, dragging a new batch of dodgeballs into the center. The students barely had a moment to react before Maxwell sprang into action. With a rapid motion, he fired a volley of feathers, each one transforming into a radiant blade of light mid-flight. The glowing swords streaked toward Charles like a shower of meteors.
Charles' telekinetic power surged, deflecting the incoming blades with swift, calculated movements, while Rook took advantage of the distraction. His arms morphed into thick, writhing tentacles, each one snatching up a handful of newly arrived dodgeballs. But then, the unexpected happened.
Xavier, who had been oddly quiet until now, began striding across the court with a casual ease. The temperature dropped precipitously as he moved, the surrounding air so cold it seemed to shimmer. His eyes, usually half-lidded and sleepy, were now wide open, revealing an intensity that sent a chill down his teammates' spines. He raised his arms in a seemingly open invitation for anyone to take their shot at him.
“Xavier, what are you doing?” Iris demanded, her voice edged with a mix of concern and irritation.
Rook didn’t hesitate. Seizing the opportunity, he hurled all eight dodgeballs at Xavier in rapid succession, each one aimed to knock him out before he could enact whatever plan was forming in his mind. But just inches from striking him, the balls froze in midair, suspended as if caught in an invisible grip. Frost spread across their surfaces, crackling like a glass spider web.
Xavier walked forward, past the immobilized dodgeballs that hovered around him, their surfaces coated in a thick rime. His movements were calm and unhurried, and each step seemed to radiate a coldness that seeped into the ground itself. When he reached the center of the court, he stomped his foot down, and a jagged layer of ice burst forth, spreading outward and locking itself around the feet of every Beta student, binding them in place.
He turned his back to Maxwell, showing nothing but quiet confidence as he retreated to his team's side of the court. The frozen dodgeballs dropped to the ground with dull thuds, the frost shattering off in glinting shards. Xavier nodded at Charles, signaling him to take control of the balls once more.
With a flash of concentration, Charles’s telekinesis activated, pulling all eight dodgeballs toward him, ready for the next assault.
Up in the bleachers, Baal’s eyes narrowed as he watched Xavier’s performance. “How curious. That wasn't just simple cryokinesis,” he remarked, his voice carrying a tone of genuine intrigue.
Wallace raised an eyebrow, glancing at Baal. “What do you mean? He can control ice; seems straightforward enough.”
Baal shook his head, his gaze never wavering from the boy on the court. “No, it’s more than that. Did you see how the dodgeballs didn't just freeze—they froze in time. Their movement stopped entirely. It wasn’t just the temperature, it was the very concept of motion itself that was frozen. If I didn’t know better, I’d say his power allows him to freeze concepts rather than mere matter,” Baal mused, the smile on his face deepening.
“That’s supposed to be impossible, isn't it?” Wallace asked, his tone edged with skepticism.
“Indeed, it is. The ability to manipulate concepts is a power typically reserved for a Demon King,” Baal explained, his voice lowering. “My predecessor could embody any concept. I can devour any concept. And my successor… well, he could steal any concept. But as long as the Seven Sins are still present, there should be no new Demon King. So how does that boy possess such a power?”
Wallace's expression hardened as he considered the implications. “This is the first I’ve heard of anything like this. What does it mean for us if that kid’s ability is truly conceptual freezing?”
Baal’s laughter rumbled out of him, low and amused. “It means,” he said, a glint of dark amusement in his eyes, “that this class just became the most interesting group of students I’ve seen in centuries.”
Wallace shook his head, his voice carrying a hint of awe. “Two students who have complete control of the concepts of Nothing and Reality, and now one who can freeze concepts entirely. So many monsters have appeared this year.”
Baal's laughter rolled through the bleachers. “You’ve certainly gathered quite an interesting class, Jonathan,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
On the court, Maxwell's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play things,” he said, his voice edged with excitement. “Then let’s see who comes out on top.” With a powerful beat of his wings, he launched himself into the air, his white feathers glinting under the gymnasium lights. He soared above the court, his gaze locked on Charles.
Maxwell dove with impressive speed, aiming a kick straight at Charles's head. At the last second, Charles dodged, rolling out of the way as the force of Maxwell's landing cracked the floor beneath him. Using the momentum of his dodge, Charles reached out with his telekinesis and hurled a flurry of dodgeballs at Maxwell in retaliation.
Maxwell's hypercognition activated, his senses heightening to an almost supernatural level. Each ball seemed to move in slow motion, and he dispatched them effortlessly, slashing them apart midair with two feathers that had transformed into glowing swords of light. The blades sang through the air as he struck, reducing the dodgeballs to harmless shards of rubber.
Maxwell closed the distance in an instant, his fist colliding with Charles's jaw and sending him stumbling backward. “Let’s keep things civil,” Maxwell said, his tone calm but firm as he stepped back over the dividing line. “Stay on your side of the court.”
Charles groaned, rubbing his bruised cheek as he tried to shake off the blow. “That really hurt… but I’m fine,” he assured Celia, who had rushed over with concern etched on her face.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Alice's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd as she stared at Maxwell with a peculiar expression. “That boy… I don’t know why, but I feel some sort of connection to him.”
“You too?” Iris muttered, glancing at Alice out of the corner of her eye.
Anya’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. An idea had taken root, and she had every intention of bringing it to fruition. “Hey, Xavier,” she called out, “make me a few ice golems. The more realistic they look, the stronger they’ll be.”
Xavier nodded, his eyes gleaming with an eerie, icy blue. As his power flared, the temperature in the gymnasium plummeted, a mist forming as the air crystallized around him. He extended his hand, and ice erupted from the floor, spiraling upward in a mesmerizing dance of frost. The shapes of the golems began as crude, jagged forms, but quickly refined with startling speed. Smooth, lifelike details emerged as the frozen figures took shape, their limbs elongating to become lanky and menacing. Each golem stood about the size of an adult male, their joints creaking as they settled into statuesque stillness, their frozen eyes glinting like shards of glass.
A total of three golems materialized, lined up like silent sentinels awaiting orders.
“Perfect,” Anya said, her smile curling into something more devious. With a wave of her hand, she activated her ability, summoning a trio of small, pulsating crimson orbs. The spheres floated in the air for a moment, radiating dark energy, before she directed them toward the golems. As each orb sunk into the chest of a golem, the ice constructs shuddered, their forms convulsing as though awakening from a deep slumber.
The crimson orbs infused the golems with a sinister vitality, spreading through their bodies like blood seeping into the ice. The frost coating them took on a darker hue, faintly tinged with red, as if they were vessels containing something alive and malevolent. Their frozen eyes glowed with a newfound intensity, and their movements, once stiff, became fluid and almost human. They stood ready, each flexing their clawed hands as if testing their newfound life, waiting for Anya’s command.
“Now, let’s show them what we can do,” Anya whispered, her eyes flashing with predatory glee.
With a snap of her fingers, the ice golems sprang to life, their movements eerily swift and fluid as they charged toward the opposing team. They didn’t waste time targeting the obvious threats, weaving past Maxwell and Rook with unnerving precision. Instead, they went straight for the twins, Sarah and Emily, who had barely a moment to react before the golems closed in.
The first golem lunged at Sarah, its icy claws encircling her arms and lifting her off the ground as if she weighed nothing. It quickly retreated, dragging her toward the Alpha team’s side of the court, its grip tightening just enough to prevent her from breaking free.
“Let go of me!” Sarah struggled, her voice laced with anger and fear.
Emily’s eyes widened with shock as her twin was carried off. “Sarah!” she shouted, reaching out in vain.
“I won’t let you harm her,” Ashe growled, summoning a spear of blood that formed and hardened in his hand. He aimed at the golem’s back, prepared to strike—but the golem twisted around, pulling Sarah in front of it like a shield. The frozen surface of its body gleamed with malicious intent as it used her as a living barrier.
“You’re fighting dirty!” Ashe snapped, his eyes blazing with anger.
“It’s called strategy, blood bag,” Anya taunted, her laughter echoing across the court like a triumphant war cry.
“Always the villain, aren’t you?” Iris muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Anya.
“Do you want to win or not?” Anya replied, unbothered by the accusation. She tilted her head, a wicked grin spreading across her face as if daring anyone to challenge her methods.
Up in the bleachers, Wallace leaned over to Mrs. Stone, his voice lowered. “'Blood bag' has got to be a slur against vampires, right?”
“If it wasn’t before, it is now,” Mrs. Stone replied, her tone amused yet tinged with concern.
“That child is scary,” Wallace said, shaking his head.
Jonathan clapped his hands, and vines emerged to bring out another set of dodgeballs, gliding over the court and gently dropping them in a neat pile. “New balls are in play!” he announced, his voice carrying over the din.
“Charles, don’t grab them,” Anya instructed, her voice dripping with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “Trust me.”
Charles hesitated but followed her command, stepping back as Rook rushed forward to seize the opportunity. He snatched up the dodgeballs, intending to rain them down on the opposing team. But just as he prepared to launch his first throw, the golem holding Sarah shifted position, using her as a human shield once more. It held her out in front of it, poised to take the brunt of any incoming attacks.
“If she gets hit by a ball from her own team, that still counts, right?” Anya asked, her tone casual yet laced with dark humor.
“Yes, it does… villain,” Jonathan replied, the word escaping him in a low murmur. He couldn’t hide the faint trace of disapproval in his voice. Even as a teacher who had seen countless strategies unfold, there was something particularly unsettling about the ruthlessness in Anya's tactics.
“How did you train these kids to be this ruthless—and this entertaining?” Anastasia asked, a spark of amusement lighting up her eyes as she watched the chaos unfold.
“It’s not about training,” Ivan said, his voice a low rumble. “They’ve made a critical mistake. If they’d taken anyone else as a meat shield, they’d be fine. But Sarah? They just lit the fuse. All hell’s about to break loose.”
Ashe’s eyes flared with an intense azure light. In the blink of an eye, the battlefield shifted—like a scene in a movie that suddenly jumped forward. The three ice golems shattered instantly, fragments of frozen limbs scattering across the court, and Ashe appeared beside Sarah, cradling her protectively in his arms. He set her down gently, his expression calm, but his voice seethed with a quiet rage.
“Die. Let nothing be left,” he whispered coldly, as two gleaming blades of crimson blood formed in his hands. Without hesitation, he advanced on Anya, his eyes promising vengeance.
“Charles, now!” Anya shouted. Her voice was sharp, her confidence unwavering even in the face of Ashe’s murderous intent.
Before Ashe could strike, all eight dodgeballs flew toward him in a coordinated assault, guided by Charles’ telekinesis. But Ashe's eyes flared with azure light once more, and the balls froze mid-air, suspended as if caught in an invisible web of time.
“Interesting,” Baal mused, leaning forward as if trying to get a closer look. “Though he isn’t the true owner of that authority, it seems he’s able to wield the power of time to some extent.”
“So they also have an authority user,” Wallace remarked, his eyebrows raised.
“No,” Baal corrected with a laugh. “They have two. And the other one is far more dangerous. Not a single student here could defeat him. That’s why I believe the Beta facility will win.”
On the court, Ashe relentlessly pursued Anya, his twin blades slashing through the air as she dodged nimbly. The dance between them was fast and chaotic—each strike from Ashe met with a graceful sidestep or a narrowly avoided blow. Xavier quickly intervened, hurling chunks of ice at Ashe in rapid succession, forcing him to deflect the attacks with his blood blades.
Reacting with lightning speed, Ashe grabbed one of the frozen dodgeballs, releasing it from his temporal hold. He hurled it toward Xavier with force, but Xavier's own eyes glinted with focus, and the ball halted mere inches from his face, suspended once again.
Unbeknownst to Ashe, the balls had remained frozen in the air far longer than they should have—his azure glow had long since faded. Xavier was the one keeping them immobilized, his power sustaining the illusion of Ashe’s control. A subtle nod from Xavier to Charles was all it took, and in the next instant, all eight dodgeballs sprang to life.
The balls pelted Ashe from every direction, a ruthless barrage that he couldn’t block in time. Each impact drove him back until, finally, he collapsed to the ground, eliminated.
Mrs. Stone clapped her hands with a pleased smile. “Good work, class! Xavier, since you had a significant role in that elimination, I’ll count it as your victory.”
Xavier’s face remained impassive as he raised a hand lazily. “Can I give up now? I’m tired.”
“NO!” Mrs. Stone barked, her voice leaving no room for argument.
Xavier sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine,” he muttered, his cold gaze scanning the court for his next target as the game continued, far from over.
Ashe trudged over to the bleachers, collapsing onto the seat next to Ivan with a defeated expression etched across his face. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his frustration palpable.
“You did well out there,” Ivan said, his tone even and supportive. “You just let your overprotectiveness get the better of you.”
“She’s a devil,” Ashe spat, glancing back at Anya. “I really want her out of this game.”
“Me too, buddy!” Iris shouted from across the court, grinning as she called out to Ashe.
Ashe furrowed his brow in confusion. “Aren’t you two on the same side?”
“Yeah,” Iris replied, her eyes narrowing toward Anya, “but I still hate her. It’d be hilarious to see her get smacked by a dodgeball.”
“So mean! I didn’t even do anything to you!” Anya retorted, her voice dripping with faux innocence.
Iris scoffed. “If I made a list of all the reasons I dislike you, the world would run out of paper.”
Charles chuckled at Iris’s remark, his amusement barely concealed as he prepared for the next move. With a thought, he activated his telekinesis, launching all eight dodgeballs toward the remaining opponents in rapid succession, each one targeting a different student.
In response, Sarah and Emily’s arms transformed into sharp, mantis-like claws that glinted under the fluorescent lights. They swung with swift precision, slashing the incoming balls cleanly in half.
Noah, despite his inability to see, evaded effortlessly, ducking and sidestepping with a casual grace that made it seem like he was barely trying. Meanwhile, Rook's tentacle-formed arms lashed out, snatching three of the dodgeballs out of the air, their surfaces rippling as he tightened his grip.
Maxwell’s eyes darted toward Cynthia, who stood frozen as the remaining dodgeballs zeroed in on her. Without hesitation, he dashed to her side, ripping out an angelic feather that transformed into a glowing sword of light. He sliced through each of the approaching projectiles, shattering them into harmless fragments before they could reach her.
“T-thank you,” Cynthia stammered, her voice trembling as she coughed softly. She glanced down at her sleeve and spotted a small smear of blood. Panic flared in her eyes for a moment, but she quickly hid the evidence, not wanting to worry Maxwell.
Maxwell's expression hardened as he took charge. “Rook, you’re our main offensive force. We need to take out the telekinetic, fast.”
“No, you don’t!” Iris shouted, interrupting his orders as she unleashed a barrage of flaming arrows aimed directly at Rook and the dodgeballs he held.
“Not again!” Maxwell growled. With a determined glint in his eye, he twirled his light swords in a flurry, deflecting each fiery arrow with a series of swift, fluid motions. Sparks and embers flew around him as the blades clashed against the flaming projectiles, lighting up the court in a dance of glowing chaos.
He raised one of his swords, pointing it straight at Iris. “No matter what, our class will win,” he declared, his voice steady and resolute.
Iris’s lips curved into a confident smirk, her eyes meeting Maxwell’s unflinchingly. “Don’t count on it,” she replied, her tone as fiery as the arrows she wielded.
The tension in the air grew palpable, the battlefield crackling with energy as the students prepared to unleash everything they had in the next exchange. Each side was desperate to win this game/