"Alright, teammates, here's the rundown!"
Dante announced boldly, towering before his group of seated, slightly slouched teammates. His tone held the energy of a motivational speech only it was clear from the way he looked at them, there was no real motivation involved.
To put it mildly? Every last one of them was utter garbage.
By Eldora's standards of skill and promise, these students barely qualified as footnotes. If there was a chart measuring potential, they'd rank somewhere below the margin, marked with a hopeful asterisk that read: Maybe, just maybe, there's something buried deep inside. Perhaps, with time, they might surprise us.
It was under that flimsy excuse that the E-rank class had been formed. A patchwork team of hopefuls, or more realistically, a collection of underachievers. Wastes of space clinging to the prayer that some hidden spark of greatness might one day erupt from their otherwise mundane beings.
And Dante? He had the misfortune of being saddled with three of them.
On the flip side, the opposing team boasted a lineup of S-rank elites. And not just any S-ranks, Edward was their frontline, flanked by none other than Selina's entourage, a clique of top-tier girls who followed her like a royal guard.
Fairness? Team distribution? Balanced competition?
Not even close.
"So, here's the plan," Dante continued, voice oozing confidence. "I'll handle the offence, the scoring, and basically all the heavy lifting. You lot? Just sit tight and do your best guarding home base, alright?"
One of the teammates stood up, clearly stirred by a flicker of courage. "They've got a full team of S-ranks. I can go with you, offer some backup, maybe cover your flanks."
A noble offer, all things considered. The student genuinely seemed concerned about Dante shouldering the entire burden alone.
Dante, however, laid a hand on the boy's shoulder with a smirk. "Listen up, Background Character One."
"Uhm, actually my name is—
"Shush, shush, shush." Dante silenced him mid-sentence with a wag of his finger and an exaggerated hush. "Your name has no value here, Background Character One. Just follow orders and don't die. Simple."
The boy hesitated, torn between pride and prudence. He wanted to help, to contribute in some way beyond the role of a bystander. But he also knew exactly who Dante Pendragon was, that Dante, was heir to the Pendragon clan.
And so, he swallowed hard.
"Yes. I'll do as you say."
"Excellent." Dante grinned. "Now let's get this show started. I've got a legacy to build."
Flexing his fingers, he cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders with practised ease, watching the terrain shift before him.
"Now then... let's see what flavour of battlefield you've picked, shall we?"
In an unexpected show of sportsmanship, Dante had allowed the opposing team to choose the setting for this match.
The arena began its transformation. The solid floor beneath Dante's boots softened, melting away like wax into a glossy, liquid shimmer. He sprang to safety just as the ground beneath him turned into a glowing pool.
All across the field, the earth warped, rivers of molten fire flowing freely, their glow casting ominous light onto the battlefield. Jagged islands of stable ground emerged like stepping stones across a deadly sea.
"A magma zone, huh?" Dante chuckled, clearly impressed. "Bold choice."
A field littered with fiery traps and narrow footholds where one misstep meant plunging into liquid death. What could possibly be more exhilarating?
Eyes gleaming with thrill, Dante launched forward. He'd already spotted the location of the ball, and the race to claim it had begun.
On the opposing team, Edward and one of his squadmates charged forward. The remaining two fell back to defend their goal. On Dante's side, however, no one else moved.
Only he played offence.
"I hope you've got more than that," Dante called out. "Otherwise this'll be over faster than expected!"
With a burst of acceleration, he exploded forward. One moment he was sprinting, his form visible and traceable, the next, he vanished.
A blink later, he reappeared. Right at the ball's location.
Edward and his partner froze in disbelief. That distance should've taken seconds not milliseconds to arrive at.
And now he stood before them, ball in hand, smirking like a devil who already knew how the game would end.
"So… what's the plan?" Dante asked, casually tossing the ball from one hand to the other. "Are you both coming at me? Or shall I steamroll through you while you're still deciding?"
He wasn't bluffing. Not even slightly. He was making offers to enemies who outnumbered him.
Was it arrogance? Or confidence so raw it bordered on insanity?
"Tick-tock," he added, flicking his wrist like a conductor directing a silent orchestra. "Time's precious. Use it wisely… or not. I don't really care either way."
Edward gritted his teeth. The fear was visible, not the trembling kind, but the kind that clouds judgment. He had witnessed Dante's ability before. That speed, that precision... it wasn't something you could plan for.
"You know what?" Dante said, now talking more to himself than them. "Forget it. I'll choose for you."
"Move!" Edward shouted in alarm, snapping from his paralysis.
But it was far too late.
Dante disappeared again, a blur beyond reason. And then he reappeared on the far end of the field.
The ball was already in the goal.
"And that, ladies and gentlemen... is a GOAL!"
He declared it proudly, standing at the enemy goalpost, arms outstretched like he had just completed a miracle. Behind him, the defenders looked stunned, frozen in place, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.
They hadn't even seen him move past them. Only the aftermath was visible.
It wasn't just defeat they were facing. It was the dawning realization that this wasn't going to be a game, it was going to be a massacre.
And so the question returned, echoing louder than before: Was it fair for Dante Pendragon to be lumped together with three E-rank nobodies, while the enemy team boasted four S-rank elites?
No.
No, it wasn't fair.
For the opposing team that is.