Bond Master

The Closing Net (2)

"But my gut tells me that Barrett is far too clever to just run away. I think that their squad will try to circle back to this exact sanctuary the absolute second they believe our search party has vacated the lane. Let's execute a complete loop and double back north to catch them trying to slip behind us."

The two first-year student casting images weren't particularly happy about the prospect of continuing to wade through knee-deep, freezing swamp water all morning, their stamina reserves steadily depleting with every step through the heavy mud.

But because the academy guidelines stated that every student received an immense amount of extra merit credit just for participating in this specialized situational training program—a highly coveted reward reserved strictly for top-performing rookies—they weren't about to voice a single complaint and risk getting permanently switched out for an eager replacement from the barracks.

The four attackers turned on their heels, cautiously marching back toward the northern perimeter to check for any hidden pockets of defenders. Down on the southwestern flank, Ren Barrett instantly caught the tactical shift through Grim’s eyes and prepared to give his squad the order to readjust their line.

"There are only fifteen minutes left on the proctor's primary countdown clock," Roger whispered in a low, tense rumble from behind his massive tower shield, his knuckles white around the shaft of his iron spear as he kept his chest pressed against the cypress bark.

"In that case, we don't move a single inch. We are waiting right here in the brush," Ren whispered back, his silver-crimson-ringed eyes gleaming in the shadows.

"Grim says their entire group is heading back toward the northern ridge. They are currently marching completely away from our quadrant, so they aren't likely to locate our flag standard at all if we just maintain absolute silence."

The nine practitioners settled deep into the thick foliage, their breathing rhythmic and controlled as the minutes slowly began to tick away. But with exactly ten minutes left in the match, the offensive leaders realized the northern sector was entirely barren, and they violently turned back toward the south, significantly accelerating their marching pace as pure desperation began to set in

. They knew the clock was against them, and they were aggressively searching every single root and reed for the last remaining defenders.

"They're coming back down the western line," Ren relayed in a sharp whisper, his mental link pulsing as Grim explained the sudden change in the attackers' behavior.

"They are moving fast now, and they are almost to the outer boundary of the fog cloud."

Deep within the thick mist, the lead offensive warrior suddenly brought his unit to a grinding halt, his combat boots freezing right next to the edge of the initial cypress stand.

He knelt down in the water, his fingers brushing against a cluster of heavily disturbed, scraped roots where Roger and the other seven giants had initially anchored the iron rims of their locked tower shields. A low groan of intense frustration escaped his lips as he straightened up, turning toward his team.

"Dammit, we've been completely played," the leader whispered, his voice shaking with anger. "They were explicitly hidden right here at the very start of the simulation, but they must have caught the sound of our boots approaching and moved their entire flag line before the fog materialized.

They aren't in the north, and they aren't in the east. This coordinate is almost directly at the western edge of the grid, which means their phalanx has to be positioned somewhere further south."

"So, what's the plan? Do we systematically search for them inside the dense fog again?"

one of the first-year student casting mages asked, his focus wand trembling slightly from pure cellular fatigue.

"No, that's exactly what he wants us to do," the leader commanded sharply, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the tree line. "A squad that size can't hide in the deep water without leaving a trail.

They should be positioned entirely outside the boundaries of the mist now, since the fog hasn't managed to spread this far south yet. Just spread out your intervals and don't allow them to trigger a sudden blind ambush on our flank. They might have split their forces up to set a complex trap instead of staying packed tight in a standard turtle formation. Move out."

The attack group began advancing with extreme caution, but their trajectory was heading directly toward the elevated, dry patch of ground where Ren had stationed the defenders. Unlike their initial position in the fetid swamp water, Team Five was currently lying flat among a dense carpet of thick ferns and heavy ironwood tea tree bushes on relatively solid earth, counting entirely on Grim's superior aerial vision to prevent them from being caught in a disadvantageous stance.

Ren drew a deep breath, his mind locking down into a tight, disciplined combat matrix as he focused his awareness onto the tree branch above. Grim, the exact microsecond the physical engagement begins, I want you to drop silently from the canopy and execute a maximum-velocity [Bone-Plate Rend] strike directly onto their rear line, Ren instructed firmly along the thought link.

But listen to me closely: maintain a strict spatial distance the moment your claws land. They command ranged counter-skills, and I absolutely do not want you getting hit or trapped by their casting circles.

He cut the link smoothly and turned his head toward the eight eager faces waiting beside him in the foliage, his voice dropping into a low, commanding whisper.

"The second we spot their boots clearing that thicket, everyone rises to their feet instantly into our interlocking turtle phalanx," Ren instructed thoroughly, his fingers resting against the cold studs of his gauntlets. "Vesper, initialize your offensive [Magic Missiles] the instant the line solidifies; I will deploy my gauntlet spikes simultaneously.

We go for their two warrior leaders first—they command the high-velocity skills and represent the true lethal threat to our formation. We will leave their two first-year student mages entirely to Grim, since casting mages at that level likely cannot take a heavy physical hit to their positioning while preparing a spell."

The seven massive shield-warriors all smirked in the shadows, their chests widening as a surge of competitive energy rushed through their muscles. They hadn't actually seen Ren Barrett deploy his unique combat skills in a live match yet, but his cold, foundry-hard confidence and flawless misdirection throughout the morning had fully earned their absolute military trust.

The thick ferns at the edge of the clearing rustled violently, and the four attackers finally stepped into open view.

"Now! Rise!" Ren roared.

With a thunderous clatter of iron armor, the seven giant commoner warriors rose to their feet as a single, unbroken machine, violently driving the bases of their heavy iron tower shields into the dirt and locking the metal rims together to form a flawless, impenetrable circle of defense around the golden flag standard.

"They're packed tight in a full circle formation!" one of the offensive first-year student mages shouted in absolute shock, frantically raising his focus wand as the iron wall materialized out of the bushes. "Look out! The flag carrier was onto our tracking vectors the entire time!"

The second offensive warrior leader simply smirks, a sudden wave of bright silver Mana radiating from his boots as he takes a low, aggressive combat stance. He was a legacy recruit who had managed to completely master a premium physical movement technique before ever arriving at the academy—a high-tier skill that allowed him to flash across the grass with incredible, supernatural speed for a few seconds, allowing him to attack from completely unexpected angles and circle behind a shield before a warrior could rotate.

Ren Barrett, of course, had absolutely no idea what specific movement skills the upperclassman possessed. But he didn't need to. He had explicitly engineered this interlocking turtle shell for the exact scenario where legacy casters or swift skirmishers tried to utilize hidden tricks to bypass their front.

"Brace the line! Initialize [Guard] now!" Ren commanded.

Instantly, the seven giant shield-bearers channeled their Mana into their weapons, and a series of shimmering, translucent geometric octagons erupted from the iron rims, interlocking perfectly in the air to construct a massive, seamless dome of solid magical protection over Team Five's entire perimeter, ready to violently nullify whatever offensive volley the attackers were about to unleash.