SSS Awakening: I Can Class Change at will

Chapter 545: The Attack

"That elk, It was guarding a fruit treasure. What kind of benefits did it provide you?"

Ace smiled, "You’re good. Really good."

"That doesn’t answer my question."

Ace opened his mouth. But before he could answer, multiple terrifying auras came down from the west.

Moon felt them before he saw them. His gaze turned towards the western region. The pressure rising at an astonishing rate.

’Seems like I was right...’ Moon smiled internally.

In the western region, the upper wall of the venue collapsed, the reinforced concrete giving way to the attacks, falling into the spectator stand on the western side.

Screams of terror and pain rose in the air. The upper tiers of seating collapsed under the mass and the stand emptied in a scramble of bodies, people climbing over each other toward the lower exits, the tournament staff at the aisles overrun in the first two seconds.

Figures came rushing through the opening. Hundreds of them, clad in the black gear they were famous for, faces covered, and weapons drawn.

The pressure of more than a hundred Evolvers flaring their auras became tangible.

The spectators who hadn’t already been running started running now. The exit tunnels on the east side of the venue clogged at once. People climbed over the seat rows toward the lower corridors. A woman went down on the aisle steps and the man behind her didn’t manage to stop in time.

"Move, move, move!"

"Where are we going, there’s no way out, they’re everywhere!"

"Somebody help her!"

Down in the ring, Moon hadn’t moved, watching the chaos unfold.

Ace hadn’t either, watching alongside Moon with a small smile on his face.

Above the collapsed western wall, two figures descended slowly through the opening on twin currents of dense aura, boots not quite touching the rubble. They came to a hover fifty meters above the arena and stopped there. The men flanking them on the shattered concrete parted around their descent without being told.

The one on the left was tall, he wore his jet-black hair long and loose down his back.

That was Ian.

The shorter one on the right was Baaron, his hair shaved close to the scalp. A two handed cleaver in his hand.

Moon exhaled slowly. His body screamed at him to run. Two Ascenders in one venue was a death sentence for anyone below their tier.

The moment Ian and Baaron appeared, two Ascenders from the association rose to oppose them. One was dark-skinned, a plain robe of grey belted at the waist.

The other was a short woman, a longbow already in her left hand. The bow was carved from a single length of dark wood with a grip wrapped in red leather. A quiver of arrows sat across her back. The nocked arrow between her fingers had a head glowing red, the heat coming off it lifting the fine hair at her temple.

They stopped ten metres from Baaron and Ian.

Baaron’s eyes followed them, his mouth slowly curling, "You two again."

The tall ascender inclined his head a fraction. "It’s been a while...traitor."

"Not long enough. I still owe you for Silverpine." Baaron grinned.

"You owe me for Silverpine, Manso Pass, and the coast line. If we’re keeping count, I must say, you are good at running...like a little rat."

"I don’t keep count of small men."

"Ironic...coming from a midget like yourself."

Ian’s laugh cracked across the ring.

Baaron glared at Ian coldly.

"What? Jokes about your height never get old." Ian responded, shrugging.

"Sierra." Baaron ignored them both, looking down at the woman with the bow.

"Still shooting the same trick, are you? Same arrows, same draw. You’d think a woman your age would’ve picked up a second string by now."

Sierra glared at him coldly, "The first string still puts you on the ground, little boy. I didn’t see a reason to change what works."

"You didn’t put me on the ground at Silverpine."

"I put you in a river."

"That’s not the ground."

Sierra finally looked up at him. "Call it what you like. Boy."

"Enough chitchat, why don’t we get this going?" Ian smirked, the double-bladed spear rolled off his shoulders and dropped into his right hand in a smooth spin, the shaft settling into his palm gracefully.

"I’ve been looking forward to this."

"I know."

"Farid."

"Baaron."

"I don’t have much time today. My schedule is tight."

"Then let’s not waste any of it." A staff suddenly appeared in Farid’s hand, the crystal shining in various colours.

Two dozen threads of blue flame spun up from the rubble around his feet in coiling ribbons, gathering into the air behind him, layering themselves into a formation that didn’t look like an attack yet because it wasn’t finished.

Baaron’s cleaver was suddenly engulfed in violet energy.

Behind them, the hundreds of black-clad figures on the western side of the venue had reached the lower floor of the spectator stand. Association responders were converging on the eastern corridors at a full sprint. The floor of the ring shook once more as something enormous hit a building three streets over.

Ian glanced at Sierra.

Then, completely and unexpectedly, he sprinted towards Moon’s direction.

For a moment, Moon’s entire body seized. Ian’s aura had locked him in place, the pressure sitting on his shoulders like a massive mountain, pushing his knees toward the floor of the ring. Feeling mortal danger, Moon was moments away from using his Life Burn skill.

Sierra scoffed, "Hmph. Do you think it’s that easy?"

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Sierra shot multiple burning arrows in Ian’s direction. They rushed through the air like missiles. Each arrow was strong enough to destroy streets.

’She’s gotten stronger!’ Ian felt the danger from those arrows. With no choice, Ian stopped dead in his tracks, and defended against the arrows with his spear.

The clash of steel on burning arrowhead spread through the arena like dropped bombs. The floor of the ring shook under Moon’s boots. A wave of heat rolled off the impact zone and washed across the rubble in a dry gust.

Seeing the Ascender take care of it, Moon halted the use of his skill.

It was still too early to spend Life Burn. Not with Ian and Baaron both still in the venue and no way of knowing how long this fight would go.

Around him, figures in black had reached the ring line.

They came at the tournament competitors in packs, the closest of them already swinging at a girl on the western edge of the arena.

She raised her guard on reflex. The blade came down against her own and her whole arm buckled.

Before they could do much damage, Alaric’s team arrived.

They came in from the eastern collapse in a tight wedge, five of them moving as one unit, and the front two hit the pack around the girl in a clean shoulder-and-blade combination that dropped three of the black-clad figures before the fourth had turned around.

The fourth turned around and went down a heartbeat later, his throat opening under a curved short-sword.

Selene was on the north edge of the ring.

Six of the dark organisation had converged on her position, blades out, one of them already casting a skill.

Her feet slid apart into a stance. Her hair had come loose from its tie. Her breath was haggard, and a small cut was across her cheek.

"Die!"

An assassin suddenly appeared behind her, his dagger held with his two hands, aimed at the back of her skull.

’Shit!’