Extra's Ascent-Chapter 159: Ian V Camelia (i)

Aldrich clashed with his sister and lover in one of the institute's personalized training chambers as the rest of the first-year cohort was equally engaged, scattered across their designated arenas in an intense struggle to outwit and outmatch rival teams.

Among these groups, a particular matchup drew significant attention. One of the competing teams was spearheaded by Ian Somalder, a name that had surfaced during the harrowing exam set up devised by the second-year students. Ian had been introduced at the time, showing his courageousness to stand against a greater threat, and his lofty brain to be decisive even in the face of emotional consequences.

Facing him on the opposite side of the battlefield was another notable figure: Camelia. She too had made her mark during the same ordeal, having earned respect and recognition for her quick thinking and the pivotal role she played in rescuing Trevor Noah from certain demise.

Now, in a twist of fate, the two found themselves pitted against each other, each leading a team composed of students hailing from classes below the prestigious S-rank. Surprisingly, both formations were almost identical in strength and skill level, creating a near-perfect equilibrium.

Ian was the first to speak, rallying his squad with a calm but assertive tone. "Here's how we'll approach this," he began, initiating a strategy he'd spent valuable time constructing, a game plan that aimed to squeeze the full potential out of their combined abilities.

There wasn't a second to waste. Around them, the environment began to shift, adapting to the selected terrain through the advanced tech of the Eldora Institute. Unlike Aldrich's chosen arena of stacked brick formations, this battlefield was something more organic, taking on a more primal tone.

A dense forest began to unfurl across the landscape, its towering trees and layered underbrush forming a rich and treacherous battleground.

"The three of you hold back and fortify our line," Ian continued, his fingers drawing invisible maps in the air as he laid out each role with meticulous clarity. "I'll be our spearhead."

Yet, it wasn't as straightforward as it sounded. Ian had broken down their roles with precision.

The first member, designated as the goalkeeper, possessed affinity with the Earth element. His talents in manipulating terrain made him the perfect choice to anchor the defensive line, molding the ground itself into barricades and barriers if needsd.

The second was placed on the right wing, a vigilant post tasked with intercepting any hostile forces attempting a flank from that direction. Agile and alert, this teammate was critical to maintaining their perimeter.

The third would man the left flank, acting as a counterbalance and offering symmetry to their formation. With both wings secured, their field of vision and control stretched outwards like the edges of a net.

Ian, meanwhile, claimed the central role not just as the team's primary attacker, but also its frontline defense. It was a dual role that demanded both aggression and caution, a blend only someone of Ian's calibre could embody.

This formation hadn't been created arbitrarily. Ian had calculated every angle, weighing their individual stats and strengths against one another. Among them, he alone boasted the largest mana pool, a fact that wasn't just convenient, but crucial.

His elevated reserves promised longevity in battle. Unlike the others, he could afford to expend more energy, absorb more damage, and dish out greater devastation over time.

But his choice to carry more responsibility wasn't born from heroism or pride. No, Ian's motivation was pragmatic, cold and efficient. He knew the balance between both teams was razor thin. Any slight misstep could tilt the match in the enemy's favor.

With equal combat power, they would need an eventual call on miracle to gain the edge over the opposing team if they decided to do it brawling style.

For Ian, relying on a miracle wasn't a strategy. Luck was fleeting, unpredictable. Victory born from a fluke wasn't a victory that could be replicated or trusted. And Ian was nothing if not calculated of the risks involved.

His solution? Become the fulcrum of the match, the single factor that would destabilize the opponent's formation and draw them into chaos.

With his vast mana and refined control over his Art, Ian intended to wreak havoc, draining the enemy's energy reserves and wearing down their momentum. Meanwhile, his teammates would bide their time, hidden in reserve, ready to strike when the scales tipped irreversibly in their favor.

Of course, no plan came without its flaws. Ian's strategy bore one glaring risk: how long could he alone hold the line? How far could he stretch himself before his efforts began to buckle?

The terrain had completed its transformation. The forest was now fully rendered, the advanced simulation technology seamlessly fusing magic and science to produce a living, breathing battleground.

Ian surged forward with purpose, his cloak fluttering behind him as he reached the outer edge of the wooded expanse. He stopped there still, alert like a sentinel awaiting the storm.

He knew better than to wander into the depths of the forest in search of the ball. That would leave the center wide open, a tactical blunder the opposing team could exploit. The density of the trees, coupled with the limited visibility, meant that any move into enemy territory came with significant risk.

What if the enemy slipped past him unnoticed and cut across to the goalpost? What if he got baited and drawn away from his designated post? The possibilities were too numerous to ignore.

So, he stood fast.

His position wasn't passive, it was a calculated choke point. He was both shield and sword, ready to absorb the first wave and strike down any who dared press forward.

In essence, his offensive stance was a defensive maneuver in disguise. He positioned himself just ahead of his team, forming the first and hopefully the last line of resistance. Any opponent attempting to break through would have to face him first.

Two objectives rested on his shoulders.

First: to assess the number of attackers that would confront him directly. Second: to ensure that in the worst-case scenario, only one enemy managed to slip past.