**IMPORTANT NOTICE, THIS IS THE CHAPTER SIZE YOU WILL SEE MOVING FORWARD, 1200-1300 WORDS. Also, Privilege has increased from 25 to 40 chapters, so double-check the new Tier options.**
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"And the iron is smoldering, MYRKLYS, LET'S CAUSE A RIOT!" And with that, Cynrik exploded off the ground toward the sky, carrying everyone along.
Feeling the familiar sensation of flying without control over his body, Brance frowned and looked toward their destination.
[Please tell me you have a plan that doesn't involve us becoming classified as teenage terrorists.] He said while locking on to the nearest enemies.
[You want the lie I plan on telling everyone or the truth Brancie?] Controlling the groups' flight path, Cynrik retorted while angling everyone nearby directly under Team VSFA.
[Do you even need to ask that? Damn it, Cyn, if you plan to go in guns a blazing and ready to blow up everything in sight, which, let me remind you, is ILLEGAL IN BOTH WORLDS WE'VE LIVED IN, then count me out.]
[That was actually my initial plan, but after realizing that our opponents outnumber and outclass us, I tossed it out the window. It involved you tossing out as many [White Dwarfs] as possible while I make a massive large-scale explosion with my UTBB.] Wearing a smirk and slowing everyone's ascent down, Cynrik's eyes never stopped moving as he cataloged the movements of all those involved in the ambush.
[But don't fret, I have come up with two contingency plans since the latter plan CLEARLY wouldn't get the Brancie stamp of approval, potential collateral damage, and all.]
Hearing the possible first scheme Cynrik had come up with, Brance clenched his fist, but upon learning that his brother was using his brain for once, he unclenched his hand just as quickly.
[Normally, I would applaud you for growing as a human being. However, I know you only changed your initial idea because it would inevitably draw too much attention.]
[Indeed, it would have. Plus, we would end up offending WAY too many high-level bosses, ones that I doubt even Geralt or old man Saylin could protect us from for very long.]
[Anywho, now we only have two options: pull down all the baddies one by one and ambush them as a group, gaining us not only their gubbins as treasure but also loads of SPN-XP.]
[VETOED! THAT IS NOT HAPPENING; MOVE ALONG!] Before his brother could go on explaining the further benefits of this guerrilla tactic, Brance shut it down.
[Tsk, it was the better plan. Sigh, OK; the only other feasible idea I could come up with was for me to pop up everyone except myself so yall could try merging with the rest of the VSFA teams and staff unnoticed as they walked into the Arena. Meanwhile, I'll cause a substantial riot-level distraction, pulling all those lying in wait away from the main group.] Furrowing his brow and noticing more people entering the fray above, Cynrik rattled off the second plan.
Brance fell silent for a second after hearing this option, contemplating the potential outcomes and how bad they could turn out, given everything went to shit.
[I assume you would do something that I'm not going to like in this plan as well...aren't you.] Brance finally said as he noticed the other members of MyrkLys, the new hire, and the two adults shifting uncomfortably.
[I mean, does it make you less antsy if I say it shouldn't be THAT big of an explosion?] Shrugging his shoulders, Cynrik rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
[No, no it doesn't, not in the fucking least. Honestly, if there weren't forty...scratch that sixty of those guys entrapping us, I wouldn't even humor your insanity. But, because of the extenuating circumstances and growing number of enemies, I half want to let you go wild.]
[hehehehe...]
[[HEHEHEHEHE!]]
As Cynrik's hideously unnerving laugh transcended the limit of the ordinary mind link and invaded the party chat, Brance recoiled visibly and wished for nothing more than to take his previous statement back. Unfortunately, before he could, Cynrik cut in and spoke aloud.
"Change of plans, no riot for you lot, blame Brancie; instead, I will have to do some micromanaging. Here's the plan...."
---
While Cynrik started his pre-operation briefing, in a high-class and fancy room several dozen meters above them and on the opposite side of the Arena, Headmaster Rivia and a familiar shaggy green-haired man were nervously sitting beside one another and watching the opening ceremonies progress.
"Geralt, how the hell could you let that little nincompoop change their Data Profile right before they were supposed to get on stage? They've dropped their Nicknames and started using their real ones, for crying out loud. Not to mention their available information far exceeds what you have been uploading in their Student Records!" Saylin reprimanded the younger man sitting next to him in a furious whisper.
"Do you think I don't realize what that brat did? I've spent the last half hour getting yelled at by our board of directors. And then there's what is happening on the home front. All of VSFA is in an uproar since their info was posted online." Geralt found it increasingly difficult to keep his voice down as he anxiously grabbed at the armrests of the expensive VIP lounge chair.
Glancing nervously Across the overly decorated VIP room, he then noticed that Lithlen and Viktor weren't in a calm state either. Seeing how they were handling the situation made him feel a bit better. Especially when he overheard a group of other Headmasters from around the continent gossiping about how Headmaster Jetlensr stupidly allowed his two genius Grandsons to go to a different Academy than the one he ran.
His colleague's embarrassment would have customarily caused Geralt to burst out in laughter before beginning his pride-filled taunts; however, the circumstances wouldn't allow such actions.
It wasn't just the fact that Cynrik and Brance's information had been leaked; no, it was far worse than that. What stopped Geralt from interacting with anyone other than Saylin were the hungry gazes he continuously received from multiple, unsavory people in the room, mainly the Military Generals and Government Officials that were representing specific Academies in some capacity or another.
"It was your idea to allow them entry under false names Saylin, so figure out how we get the fuck out of this situation." Geralt angrily whispered, only to receive a blank stare from the green-haired man.
"Oh, and how do you suppose I do that? From what I can tell, not only has the official Competition's website been updated, but a particular hot-headed old bastard appears to have leaked everything he knew on the black market about the boys in his rage." Saylin said while shooting a glare in Lithlen's direction.
"Fuck, damn it, that means...."
BUZZ, BUZZ, BUZZ BUZZ
Mid-sentence, both Saylin and Geralt's Watcets vibrated simultaneously, drawing their attention before a look of panic appeared on their faces. They had received a text message from the very "brat" in question reading.
: Oi, Everyone's favorite High Functioning Sociopath here, guess what? Our douchebag grandfather leaked our info to the world, I had somewhat predicted this, so I changed our info upon registering for the tournament. So, when we left the Terminal, we were ambushed, I did some top-gun level flying, blew up our HoverVan, and we are about to begin operation, FUCK SHIT UP! If you wish to RSVP to the party, please get your HAPPY FUCKING ASSES OUTSIDE WHEN YOU HEAR THE BOOM!:
No sooner did the two men finish reading the text did the entire Arena shudder for half a second, causing everyone to look around in confusion without noticing the opening and closing of a crack in space.
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