Chapter 100: The Fifteen
One week.
Seven days until the International Champions League.
The main auditorium was packed. Every student who had even a passing interest in the tournament had squeezed into the seats, whispering, guessing, arguing over who would make the cut. The air buzzed with tension and anticipation.
Lucian stood near the back with Clara and Rose. Ryan was on the other side of the room with the Research students, his arms crossed.
The doors at the front opened.
Gareth Blackwood walked in.
The Head Instructor. He wore the standard black instructor’s uniform. His presence alone silenced the auditorium. Every whisper died.
He stopped at the podium. His eyes — one brown, one milky white, the ruined eye a souvenir from a dungeon decades ago — swept across the room.
"Fifteen," he said. His voice carried without effort. "Out of five hundred. That is what this academy will send to the International Champions League."
He pressed a button on the podium. A large screen flickered to life behind him. Names appeared one by one.
"Research Department."
Ryan Duncan
Iris Langford
Lucian glanced at Ryan. His friend’s jaw tightened with barely contained relief. Beside him, a slim girl with silver hair and round glasses adjusted her frames and exhaled slowly. Iris Langford. Lucian had seen her in the library a few times.
"Support Department."
Rose Chevalier
Elara Vance
Nadia Okafor
Rose blinked. She glanced at Lucian. He gave her a small nod.
"Special Department."
Mickey Adeyemi
Carlos Vega (Spain, Transfer)
Amira El Fassi (Morocco, Transfer)
No surprises there. The three transfers had dominated the global zombie expedition rankings. They were locks.
"Combat Department."
Arthur Chevalier
Clara Duncan
Elias Schwarz
Lucian Grimaud
Ethan Clarke
Bruno Remmos
Julian Renard
Elias stood near the wall with his usual silent expression. Bruno cracked his knuckles. Julian smirked.
Gareth Blackwood looked at the names on the screen, then turned to face the fifteen students standing scattered throughout the auditorium.
"These fifteen will represent the European All-Star Academy in this year’s International Champions League."
He paused.
"Follow me."
The inner training rooms were located deep beneath the academy — past three security checkpoints, down a spiraling staircase, through a corridor lined with reinforced steel doors.
The room they entered was massive. Four hundred meters in every direction. The ceiling soared thirty meters high, reinforced with ability-absorbing panels that could tank S-Rank attacks without cracking. The floor was segmented — different terrain types for different training scenarios. Stone. Sand. Water. Forest.
The fifteen students filed in, their footsteps echoing in the vast space.
Gareth Blackwood stood at the center.
"For the next week, you will familiarize yourselves with each other’s abilities, your teamwork, your synergy." His one good eye moved from face to face. "You have been selected as individuals. But the ICL is not an individual tournament. It is a team one. If you cannot fight together, you will lose together."
He gestured to Arthur, who stepped forward.
"Your captain will be Arthur Chevalier. Your vice captain, Carlos Vega."
Arthur’s expression was composed. He gave a single nod to the group.
Lucian activated Eyes of the Eternals.
╔═══════════════════════╗
║ Name: Arthur Chevalier ║
║ Age: 21 ║
║ Ability: A-Rank Metal Manipulation ║
║ Cultivation: Mid Core Realm ║
╚═══════════════════════╝
Mid Core Realm. And his ability jumped from B-Rank to A-Rank. Lucian filed that away. Arthur had been busy.
Gareth Blackwood spoke again. His voice hardened.
"I don’t care about what you’ve achieved so far."
The shift in tone was palpable. The air in the room grew heavier.
"Rankings. Expedition scores. Past victories. Throw them away." His scarred face was stone cold. "Make history instead of memories."
He stepped forward. His presence pressed down on the room.
"Only outcomes matter. Anyone unable to shine in this tournament is considered trash. Not by me only. But by the world too." He gestured upward, as if pointing through the ceiling to the sky above. "This tournament will be watched worldwide. Every major government. Every clan. Every military division. Every Hunter Guild Chapter on the planet."
His milky eye caught the light.
"This tournament will open doors for you. Doors that would otherwise remain locked for decades. Sponsorships. Clan invitations. Military commissions. Resources. Power." He let the word hang. "But only for those who perform. The rest will be forgotten."
He turned toward the exit.
"Create your team synergy and win this tournament."
The door closed behind him.
Silence.
Then Arthur clapped his hands once. Smack.
"Alright. Let’s get to work."
A display materialized in the center of the room — a holographic projection that expanded into a large bracket structure. Forty-eight academy names filled the screen, organized into twelve groups of four.
"Forty-eight academies," Arthur said, his voice crisp and commanding. "Twelve groups. Four academies per group. We’re in Group H."
He tapped the display. One group expanded.
╔═════════════════════════╗
GROUP H
Rift Valley Academy — Tanzania
European All-Star Academy — UK
Southern Kiwi Academy — New Zealand
Bosphorus Crescent Academy — Turkey
╚═════════════════════════╝
"The group stage is straightforward. Each academy in a group faces every other academy in that group. Three matches per academy. Five fighters per match. Wins earn three points. Draws earn one. Losses earn nothing."
He swiped the display. A new diagram appeared — showing the progression from group stage to knockout rounds.
"Top two from each group advance to the Round of 32. From there, it’s pure knockout. Lose, and you’re out."
He paused, letting the information sink in.
"Our first match is against Southern Kiwi Academy from New Zealand."
Lucian whispered to Rose beside him. "Your brother is really good at this."
Rose snorted. "Don’t let him hear you say that. His ego is already bad enough."
Arthur continued. "For the first match, we’re at a disadvantage. We don’t have detailed intelligence on Southern Kiwi’s fighters. Their academy keeps their ability data classified. We know approximate cultivation levels from public records, but nothing specific."
He crossed his arms.
"That means we can’t throw our strongest into the first round. We need to feel them out. We need our own wild cards — fighters who can adapt to unknown abilities mid-tournament."
His eyes moved across the group, calculating.
"For the match against Southern Kiwi Academy, I’m picking the following five."
The display updated.
╔════════════════════════╗
MATCH 1 — VS SOUTHERN KIWI
1. Amira El Fassi
2. Ryan Duncan
3. Clara Duncan
4. Elara Vance
5. Julian Renard
╚════════════════════════╝
Julian grinned. Clara nodded calmly. Ryan adjusted his glasses.
"The European All-Star Academy is known as one of the best academies in the world," Arthur said. His voice carried a quiet intensity. "We have to dominate this tournament. Not participate. Dominate."
He looked at each of the fifteen students in turn.
"Starting now, we train together. Eat together. Breathe together. By the time we step onto that stage, every one of you should know your teammates’ abilities better than your own."
The holographic display shifted to a training schedule — detailed, grueling, leaving almost no free time.
"Questions?"
Nobody spoke.
"Good. Let’s begin."