Underneath the Silhouette
Chapter 110: Battlefield of Colors

Chapter 110: Battlefield of Colors

In the vast, sprawling field, chaos reigned supreme. Bodies blurred, colors clashed, and the air buzzed with the hum of activated Flairs. Mr. Blade’s voice amplified and distorted by the loudspeakers, soared above the noise, his commentary a series of delighted shouts and screams of pure excitement. He was enjoying every single chaotic moment.

From her vantage point with Link and the remnants of the white team, Calixta surveyed the unfolding madness. She strained every fiber of her being, summoning vast amounts of her Flair, trying desperately to keep the opposing teams from chasing after Eirin and Shade, trusting, perhaps foolishly, in whatever convoluted plan Shade was orchestrating.

’He’s not the type to corner someone in a secluded place anyway,’ she thought, a faint, desperate hope fluttering in her chest.

Calixta continued to protect her team, her focus unwavering amidst the pandemonium. Every eliminated opponent, every team member still standing, increased their chances, however slim, of winning this brutal first game and progressing to the second. The more team members left, the higher the chance of winning for the next game. Survival was key.

"Naya!" Link’s voice cut through the clamor, sharp and urgent.

Responding instantly, Naya unleashed her Flair, forming a thick, swirling mist out of her palms, enveloping their remaining teammates in a dense, hazy mist. Simultaneously, Calixta, her face contorted with effort, thrust her hands skyward. Gigantic, shimmering walls of ice erupted from the ground, soaring upwards, forming an almost impenetrable crystalline dome around them, effectively protecting everyone inside their defensive stronghold, at least temporarily.

"Cali! Cover the top part too! Hurry!" Link screamed at the top of his lungs. He knew their vulnerability lay above.

However, their brief respite was shattered by Trixtan’s loud, unmistakable laugh, echoing from above, a sound that sent a wave of dread though Link. "You’re making this too easy, Cali," Trixtan’s voice taunted, dripping with playful malice. He floated effortlessly in the air, a mischievous grin plastered across his face, staring down from the only opening in Calixta’s ice dome. "Now I’ll feel guilty if I eliminate you all here, trapped like fish in a barrel."

Despite his words, Trixtan’s face showed the exact opposite of guilt. His smile was so wide, devoid of empathy, that it gave shivers down Link’s spine. He wasn’t playing; he was enjoying this. "Cali! Now!" Link screamed.

Sweat ran down Calixta’s temple in rivulets, her brows furrowed with extreme effort as she struggled to close the humongous ice dome, to seal off the sky. She saw Trixtan’s huge, unhinged smile, a vision of impending doom, before everything came crumbling down.

With a sudden, explosive burst of raw power, Trixtan released a blinding torrent of lightning from his outstretched hands, electrifying the air and shattering the sturdy ice walls into a million shimmering shards that rained down upon them like deadly crystals.

"You can’t just keep everyone alive for this game," Trixtan giggled, his voice full of manic glee as lightning continued to crackle around him, a dangerous halo. He thrived on the chaos, the raw energy of the battle.

"We’re not killing each other!" Link screamed back, his voice strained with fury, making Trixtan laugh even louder, his delight uncontainable.

The shattered walls of ice scattered all over the ground, glittering briefly before melting into puddles. And at that exact moment, as the defensive barrier disintegrated, all the other students from the opposing teams, who had been patiently waiting, rushed forward like a tidal wave, charging at the exposed white team.

Pierre swayed his hand, a focused intensity in his eyes. He thrust his arm forward, releasing a huge whirlwind, a swirling vortex of concentrated wind that slammed into the charging students, scattering them like leaves in a gale. Bodies spun, cries of surprise filled the air as students were picked up and hurled backwards, disoriented and vulnerable.

"Run!" Pierre shouted, swinging his arms with all his might, pouring streams of paint from a hidden container attached to his wrist at the others, trying to eliminate as many as possible to buy his team time. His white shirt remained pristine, a beacon in the swirling chaos, but streaks of red, blue, and green paint adorned his arms, testament to his aggressive defense. He spun, twirling a whirlwind of his own, his every movement a calculated attack. "Cali! Behind you!"

Trixtan, his huge grin back, was already behind Calixta, a blur of red and motion, his paint-covered hand outstretched, aiming for her shirt. He moved with a frightening speed, propelled by his lightning Flair. But Calixta, reaching with lightning speed born of adrenaline, immediately swung her hand, creating another huge wall of ice, thick and unyielding, that erupted between them, separating the two of them just as his paint-covered hand grazed the air where her back had been.

The ice shimmered, briefly reflecting Trixtan’s disappointed face. "Oh, come on, Cali! Fight me!" Trixtan taunted, disappointment flashing in his eyes that his prey had escaped, yet a deeper thrill, an almost affectionate challenge, was present. His voice echoed, almost a plea for a true opponent.

Calixta frowned, a visible struggle in her movements as she fought to create distance between them. Her breath hitched, ragged and uneven. ’This battle freak!’ she thought, a surge of exasperation and grudging respect for his relentless pursuit, as she sprinted away, weaving through the newly formed obstacles of shattered ice and dodging students who were trying to cut her off.

Trixtan’s eyes glowed with unholy excitement as he continued chasing after his friend, delighted by her evasive tactics. "Let’s go, Cali! Let’s fight! Give me a real challenge!" His shouts pursued her, a relentless drumbeat. He bounced on the balls of his feet, light and agile, his Flair making him untouchable.

On the other hand, Pierre continued to dominate the open field, a blur of motion as he eliminated other students. He’d release a small gust that would lift a blob of paint, then redirect it mid-air with another gust, sending it splattering unto an unsuspecting opponent’s shirt. He was deadly accurate, turning the game into a one-sided slaughter as he painted shirt after shirt, painting the filed in a riot of color, a growing testament to his prowess.

Students cried out in frustration as they were tagged, quickly being escorted away by the hovering bots.

Link and Naya, meanwhile, struggled to get away from the thick of the crowd, using their combined abilities to create distractions and evasive maneuvers, but the chaos was absolute, a swirling turmoil of bodies and paint.

Link, relying on his quick thinking, directed Naya to create pockets of mist, not just for concealment, but to disorient groups of attackers, forcing them to stumble and bump into each other.

Naya moved like a ghost, her flair cloaking her movements, making her almost impossible to hit. She’d appear, release a blinding cloud, and vanish again, leaving opponents swinging at empty air.

The air grew heavy with the sweet, chemical smell of the paint, mixed with the sharp tang of ice and the ozone scent of Trixtan’s lightning.

The sounds of the battle were overwhelming: the whoosh of wind, the crackle of lightning, the splintering of ice, the shouts of students, the triumphant roars and frustrated cries. The ground underfoot became slick with melted ice and splattered paint, turning the field into a treacherous battleground.

Link narrowly dodged a glob of yellow paint, feeling its sticky warmth as it grazed his cheek, just missing his shirt. He heard a cry behind him and glanced back to see a white-banded teammate, a girl with earth Flair, tagged by a sudden blast of fire from a red-team member. The bot’s metallic arm quickly moved to escort her away, a silent sentinel of elimination.

The white team, though dwindled in numbers, was fighting with renewed ferocity, fueled by Link’s strategic commands and Pierre’s relentless offense. Pierre, seeing a cluster of red and blue team members attempting to flank Calixta and Naya, unleashed a powerful compressed air blast, a miniature hurricane that swept through the group.

Three students, caught off-guard, were lifted off their feet, their shirts exposed, and a spray of blue pain from another white team member, a half-mermaid, splattered across them before they even touched the ground. Eliminated.

Calixta, still being hounded by Trixtan, had adapted to his aggressive style. Instead of merely building walls, she started forming icy spikes made out of the splattered paints coming from the ground, forcing Trixtan to constantly shift and leap, making him expend more energy. She moved with surprising speed for someone capable of such power, her movements fluid and evasive, a slippery target.

Trixtan, far from being frustrated, seemed to revel in the challenge, his laughter echoing louder with each dodged spike. "That’s it, Cali! Give me more! Make me work for it!" he yelled, a streak of lightning missing her head as she ducked beneath a low-hanging tree branch.

The game continued its relentless pace. The sun, now high in the sky, beat down, intensifying the heat and making the exertions even more draining. The field, once a pristine green, was now a colorful mosaic of discarded painted shirts and muddy footprints. The eliminated students watched from the sidelines, their frustrated groans and cheers adding to the racket.