Chapter 737: Chapter 737: Bug in the Network
Kain’s eyes never left the battlefield.
His lips pressed into a line as he watched Queen’s Vespid guards begin their feints—testing, analyzing. The Starfire contracts responded as expected, activating defensive skills backed by the suit’s resonance core. So far, nothing powerful enough to draw on the shared energy pool.
“Too cautious,” he muttered.
“Who?” Serena asked, keeping her eyes on the Lustral Veil Hare, now mid-flicker behind a veil of light distortion.
“Them.” Kain nodded toward the armoured group of five. “They’ve realized we’re probing.”
Serena’s brow furrowed. “So they’re holding back?”
“They’re trying to bait us into a full assault without revealing too much in return,” he said. “Which means we’re running out of time to surprise them.”
The suits weren’t invincible. They weren’t even complete. The shared network was powerful, yes—but the moment two functions overlapped at maximum demand, there was a delay.
And Kain was going to make sure it happened again.
Aegis stomped forward and launched a fist-sized boulder at one of the Starfire contracts—a hawk-like creature mid-swoop. The creature dodged, wings flickering with fire. Its tamer raised a gauntleted hand and launched a retaliatory burst of energy resembling green flame—likely his gift.
Just as Queen screeched again and sent another guard at the same target.
This time, Kain watched closely.
The armour glowed.
So did the contract’s gear.
But for the tiniest instant… the helmet lights dimmed.
He exhaled slowly. “There it is.”
He gave the signal.
Aegis and Queen surged at the same time—different targets, synchronized timing. At that same moment, Serena’s Elemental Guardian, in its wind attribute form resembling a translucent winged sprite made of air, activated a wide-area wind burst, clearing visual obstructions while reinforcing allies.
And in the exact second, the Starfire students reacted to defend—
Bea struck.
She’d been near Kain this whole time unnoticed, but her Pale Thought Field cloaked the stage.
So far, she hadn’t managed to play too big a role. This armour provided an all-round defense that even prevented her from implanting splits or using negative thought particles or even a simple Mind Chorus to shake their concentration.
But now, one of the beast-tamer’s helmets had finally dimmed, and it was as if a bright spot of light had lit up on a radar map. A lighthouse in the dark. Instantly, all of her attention and energy were placed on that singular beast-tamer while his allies were distracted fending off the attacks launched by Kain and his allies. The chaos and debris flying around the field made it so that nobody, not even the commentators nor those in the stands nor even the Demi-god level observers, noticed the brief pause in one of the Starfire students. That is, nobody except for Seraphina Mindshade, the absolute peak of mental-attribute attacks, but other than a brief hum and smile in amusement, she didn’t clue anyone into the fact that there was now an imposter on the side of Starfire.
And indeed there was. Without the help of the suit, a special skill, gift, or contract to boost his resistance to mental attribute attacks, this beast-tamer was almost instantly controlled by one of Bea’s splits. He was especially unable to launch any resistance once the fact that he was only 4-stars, and not one of the few 5-star tamers on the field, was factored into the equation.
The audience might not have seen Kain control of the tamer.
But the battlefield certainly felt it.
For some reason, all of a sudden, the armour was no longer working—courtesy of the controlled beast-tamer consistently drawing upon the shared energy resource in order to launch ineffective ’attacks’ at Kain. Coincidentally these attacks would coincide with whenever another teammate or their contract was about to be attacked.
Queen’s guard slammed into the shoulder of one tamer and was knocked back—but not before its stinger sliced a gash through the gauntlet. Sparks flew and the student’s arm bent at an unnatural angle—clearly the impact had not been well offset this time.
The tamer staggered. Their spiritual creature—the hawk—was half a second too slow to react.
And Aegis? He took advantage of that lag to deliver a crushing upward punch straight into the side of another student’s armoured chest.
The sound that followed made even the announcers fall silent for a heartbeat.
The armour held—but only barely.
Hairline fractures spidered through the plating.
Kain allowed himself a tight smile. “Confirmed.”
Serena looked at him sideways. “What did you do?”
“Just added a little bug to their shared network,” But he didn’t elaborate further.
Serena didn’t press him, but her eyes flicked toward the student Aegis had just decked. He was staggering back to his feet, supported by another teammate.
Yet something felt… off.
The formations were unravelling.
Not completely—Starfire was too disciplined for that—but subtly. Defences were a step too slow. Dodges that just barely clipped. And their synchronized movements? Gone. The rhythm of their teamwork had faltered, like a flawless instrument now plagued by a single, discordant note.
It didn’t take long for someone on their side to notice.
“Karson!” barked the central tamer—the same muscular leader who had previously gone head-to-head with Aegis. “What are you doing? Sync your targeting with Rell and draw back!”
The student in question, still half-slumped, looked up. He responded, voice flat and devoid of urgency, “Understood. Preparing to engage.”
Kain flinched at the tone. He made a mental note to go over more human-like tones and behaviours with Bea.
It was too calm. Too mechanical.
So did the leader of Starfire.
His eyes sharpened.
“…Karson,” he said again. This time, more quietly.
The controlled student tilted his head.
And that sealed it.
Kain didn’t know what kind of relationship they had—but it was likely quite close for the opposing leader to notice so quickly. Although his face was obscured by his helmet, his entire body practically screamed his rejection of this imposter of his ’friend’.
This kind of near-instant realization that something was wrong was something only he, as a close childhood friend, could pick up on. Something about the cadence, the absence of a familiar bite in the response. A thousand shared experiences distilled into a single instinctual read.
Without another word, the leader raised his gauntlet and activated something on the inside of his wrist.
A pulse of light swept across the controlled student.
And just like that, the suit’s glow dimmed completely.
Disconnected.
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