Chapter 2: Surprise Attack

No matter how much my abilities began to be acknowledged, the lingering smog of distrust never completely vanished. If my classmates harbored even the slightest doubt about a policy, they were quick to raise their voices in objection.

5

However, my willingness to go beyond the mere title of ‘leader’— to carry the resolve of risking my own expulsion— had a far greater effect on them than I had expected.

And so, the first strategy I shared with the classmates who had entrusted the direction of this battle to me was this: The moment the exam begins, we head north and cross G8 before anyone else.

1

Assigned to starting point E12, Class C followed my lead and began advancing toward our first target area, spreading out just enough to avoid presenting an easy target.

We moved with caution; positioned between Ryūen’s group to the west and Horikita’s to the east, escaping that pincer as quickly as possible was crucial.

Heading to F13 near headquarters was also an option, but if both Classes A and B noticed and pursued us, we risked being cornered in D14, D15, E14, or E15 with no room to maneuver.

Still, running was not an option.

Even if the forest trail had been partially maintained, barreling through unfamiliar terrain would only burn stamina and raise the risk of injury. A measured pace was the only sensible decision.

Less than a minute after the special exam began, our first report came in through VIP Nishikawa.

“Message from Shimazaki-kun. He figured out who the other Commanders are.”

We could hear Shimazaki only through the single-ear earpiece connected to each transceiver. His voice did not reach anyone nearby, and aside from communication through the three VIPs, no one else was permitted to speak with him. Each transceiver operated independently, meaning simultaneous communication was impossible. One person had to serve as the single link at any given time.

“Tell us,” Hashimoto said, stepping toward Nishikawa without delay.

Our ability to ascertain the roles and identities of individuals outside our own class was severely restricted.

However, the commanders, all four of them, were centralized at headquarters, making their eventual discovery inevitable. This initial report was a vital piece of intelligence about our unseen adversaries.

“Class A's commander is Matsushita-san, Class B's is Kaneda-kun, and Class D's is…. Ichinose-san,” Nishikawa relayed.

Of the class leaders, Ichinose was the only one who had apparently chosen to assume the role of commander herself. This might have been a strategic choice or perhaps a process of elimination, given her lack of exceptional athletic prowess and the apparent shortage of individuals capable of fulfilling the commander’s duties effectively.

5

As for Matsushita, her appointment was both surprising and, in retrospect, quite fitting.

7

Class A had several intelligent students, but they tended to be conventional overachievers, much like many in Class C. They weren't particularly adept at exploiting strategic weaknesses or noticing subtle anomalies. Within that limited pool, choosing Matsushita was a sound decision; she seemed a suitable candidate.

2

Kaneda's selection, on the other hand, could be straightforwardly described as a safe and reliable choice. He was unlikely to exhibit any groundbreaking talent, but equally unlikely to commit any significant blunders.

Before long, the silent monotony of our march was broken by a faint vibration against our wrists. The watch trembled only once, before displaying the new area: E11.

A small gesture, but a clear reminder that we had crossed into another zone.

“So this is how you know when you’ve moved zones, huh? Pretty convenient… though relying on this thing alone to travel long distances sounds like a pain.”

Knowing your location and bearing can take you far, but maintaining a straight path in practice is difficult, and detours are often unavoidable. Traveling long distances without command support is something best avoided.

As we continued forward, five minutes passed, bringing us to the first GPS update— an important point, revealing how each class had repositioned since the start.

This time, the report came through Takemoto.

They had probably switched from Nishikawa to him to confirm that the radio communication was functioning without issue.

After about thirty seconds of back-and-forth over the radio, Takemoto finally let out a relieved breath.

“Anyway, he says we can relax for now. All of Class B’s GPS signals have gone straight north into C11. And apparently Class A has moved north into G11 as well.”

“It’s nice we’re not getting thrown into a fight right away,” Hashimoto said, “but that doesn’t mean we’re out of this pincer.”

He was right. If all three classes had simply advanced north from their starting positions, the tactical situation had hardly improved.

“But at least we’ve confirmed that neither Class A nor Class B is planning to fight from the get-go. That alone isn’t bad,” Takemoto said, adding that if they’d wanted the shortest path to combat, they would’ve started closing in on our position.

“What about Class D?”

We had no report on Ichinose’s group yet— the one positioned farthest away. Takemoto repeated the question over the radio, and before long, a response came through. He turned toward us as he relayed it.

“Class D is at J12— so they’re heading east. Looks like they intend to keep a solid distance.”

Their favorable starting position probably played a part, but it was also a characteristic choice for Ichinose’s class.

From this first report alone, it was obvious that Class D’s stance was to avoid pointless battles.

“So we’re not picking up the pace?” Hashimoto asked in a low voice, walking directly behind me. “If Class A’s heading for G8, they might get ahead of us.”

“Even if we did, they’ll notice within five minutes,” I replied. “If they see we sped up, Class A will respond in the same way. All that would do is increase the risk.”

Besides, at this early stage, we weren’t anywhere close enough to overtake them within a single update cycle. If we provoked them into a race, it would just ratchet up the tension and make a confrontation more likely.

“And if a fight starts at the wrong time,” Hashimoto muttered, “Class B might also jump in too…”

“That’s right,” I said. “We’re not handing other classes a chance to swoop in and reap the benefits.”

We continued moving north within the same zone.

Five more minutes passed— marking ten minutes since the exam began.

“Ah— yes. Go ahead and report,” Nishikawa said suddenly, reacting to a voice coming through the radio.

I had assumed the next report would go to Shiraishi, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

“What about the movements of the other classes? Nothing changed?” Hashimoto asked over her shoulder.

“Ah, sorry, hold on a sec,” Nishikawa replied over the mic, then turned toward Hashimoto, “I’m checking right now.”

Shimazaki’s voice entered her right ear, and Hashimoto's entered her left. Spoken to almost simultaneously, Nishikawa showed a brief look of annoyance, then shifted her attention fully to the radio.

Hashimoto, gesturing an apologetic “my bad, my bad,” was promptly mocked by Morishita, jeering a finger at him in amusement.

Even though this was a major special exam, we had not yet entered a situation where immediate danger pressed down on us. That's why this kind of atmosphere was natural.

“If Class A just keeps heading north, their route is predictable enough, but Class B is the tricky one. Are they really gonna cut through the slope between C7 and D6? It’s a pretty gentle incline, sure, but still. Or are they gonna stop somewhere midway…?”

Hashimoto muttered while poring over the map, tracing potential routes with his finger.

“But ultimately, it depends on how the events are placed, huh? If they’re clustered in the south, they’ll turn back. If events pop up at equal distances from both of us, what then?” He continued evaluating the variables he could see.

“Of course, it depends on the number of events and the supplies we can actually obtain.” I replied, “But with today’s food already lacking, ignoring an event too easily could lead to something we can’t recover from.”

Enduring hunger for one night was possible, but on the second day, a significant drop in stamina would inevitably affect movement, combat, and health.

“So in other words, Ayanokōji, if necessary, you’re prepared to fight from the beginning, right?”

2

“Yeah. If I judge the supplies to be necessary, we'll go for them without hesitation.”

Until now, I’d been vague about our stance on early engagements.

Here, through Hashimoto, I made the class’s policy explicit.

“…Yeah, thanks. I’ll tell them.” Having finished her exchange with Shimazaki, Nishikawa looked up with a small smile.

“He said Class A is moving north at the same speed. And Class B’s GPS signals have shifted slightly away from us to the northwest. Near B10.”

Holding the map, Hashimoto immediately traced to the relevant area and confirmed the details. Communication with the Commander was something we couldn’t afford to neglect. With classes moving in relatively close proximity, the GPS data, updated only once every five minutes, was indispensable.

“If Ryūen’s group is heading toward B10, that puts them near the coastline. Not sure if they’ll continue north, but the horizontal distance opening up is helpful. That means Class A is the one we need to watch for a while.”

At this pace, Class A would reach G8 around the time we entered F9.

We’d be giving them a full lead.

“If they’re lying in wait, we might not be able to pass. So what do we do, Ayanokōji?” Hashimoto asked quietly.

There were several options. We could increase our speed and let Matsushita notice the change on the next GPS update, causing Class A to back off to avoid colliding with us.

Or Class A might accelerate instead, determined to get ahead, which was the more likely outcome. In that case, letting Horikita’s group take the lead by slowing down was a viable choice.

Alternatively, we could retreat to the starting point or simply stop and hold our current position.

“If we keep going straight to G8 without a second thought, aren’t we just walking into a disadvantageous fight?”

“About that—”

Just as I was about to explain the plan, Yoshida approached.

“I think charging into a fight right now would be reckless,” He stated. “We should stop for a bit and let Class A go ahead. It’s not like we lose anything by letting them take the lead, right?”

“Yeah. Everything depends on where the events spawn.” I replied, “There’s no advantage or disadvantage at this stage.”

“Look, I’ll follow your lead if you decide we’re fighting,” Yoshida continued. “But don’t we have more pressing things to do first? Most of us barely know how to use these guns.”

He wasn’t wrong— this was an issue shared across the class.

That was precisely why we were watching Horikita’s class so closely, with whom our paths were likely to intersect… but they weren’t the only ones we needed to watch.

“That’s why we should start the weapon-handling lessons now,” Yoshida said. “Before anything else.”

“I’m of the same opinion,” Morishita added, tugging lightly on my sleeve. Her shoulders rose and fell in small, uneven breaths.

“Are you out of stamina already, Morishita? You sound quite winded.”

“That’s not it! I just… may have gotten a bit carried away this morning. I sprinted full-speed around the ship for almost an hour straight. I suppose some fatigue has accumulated.”

2

For someone who calls herself the ‘Amazoness of the Dense Forest,’ she certainly seems to be placing a heavy burden on her own shoulders.

5

“Alright,” I said. “We’ll let Class A go ahead. We’re waiting here for now.”

Hashimoto was the one most startled by the decision.

“You’re seriously okay with that? You agreed way too easily.”

From his perspective, as long as we avoided a fight, it didn’t matter whether we entered the northern area first or last.

But the fact that I’d accepted a classmate’s suggestion so readily seemed to trouble him. He was worried I didn’t yet have a solid strategy in mind.

“I didn’t decide because Yoshida said so. I already thought we should pause and observe the situation.”

“Oh. So that’s your call, then…”

2

Hashimoto muttered the words to himself, as if confirming something internally. It seemed to reassure him— he didn’t voice any further complaints.

I turned to face the classmates following behind us.

“Ten minutes have passed, and we’re starting to get a glimpse of each class’s intentions. Our initial objective was to be the first to cross G8, but we’re altering that plan. First, we’ll stay here and learn how to properly handle our weapons. Once we’re actually prepared to fight, we’ll check the GPS again and chart a new route from there.”

“Sounds good to me. Doubt anyone’s gonna argue,” Hashimoto said.

Switching gears— from moving to preparing for battle— seemed to ease the tension in the group. Yoshida especially, but many others as well, looked relieved.

They immediately began checking their paintball guns, helping one another understand the mechanics.

Still, no matter how many simulations you run in your head, there are lessons you can only learn in real combat.

Until you actually pull the trigger, the gap between theory and practice remains— and the true weight of the moment stays beyond your reach.

Five minutes passed quickly as we focused on training, and another GPS update arrived— this time reported through Shiraishi.

Ryūen’s class had shifted slightly farther northwest, but the movement was minimal. Their pace had slowed.

Horikita’s class, on the other hand, maintained their speed and had already passed through G10, steadily approaching G8 along the expected route.

Ichinose’s class alone had committed fully to the eastern path.

“New update from Shimazaki-kun,” Shiraishi announced. “One GPS signal from A-Class has separated from the others. It’s heading toward H9. Do you know what that means?”

“H9? Alone?” Hashimoto frowned. “That’s gotta be Kōenji, right?”

3

H9 was a mountainous region. Even if he’d run off on his own to enjoy a scenic hike, it wouldn’t be surprising.

“If he’s not planning to take the exam seriously, that’s great for us… but what if he’s actually motivated this time? Like last year’s island exam? What do we make of this?”

Hashimoto looked at me for insight— expecting the former classmate to shed light on Kōenji’s behavior.

The all-grade uninhabited island exam from the previous year.

Kōenji taking first place completely on his own was a shock none of the second- or third-years had forgotten.

“I can’t say with certainty,” I began, “but if we’re talking about his usual behavior, Kōenji has no motivation whatsoever. The year before last, in the first uninhabited island exam, he simply enjoyed the island for a short while, then retired on his own without offering the class the slightest cooperation. It was typical— almost every exam saw him acting however he pleased.”

“Last year was the only exception,” I continued. “Kōenji himself proposed a condition to Horikita of ‘complete freedom until graduation.’ If he took first place, she would acknowledge it. And conversely, she also made him promise that if he placed second or lower, he would cooperate in the next exam.”

Hashimoto let out a half-laugh. “So basically, Horikita made him contribute to the class, but she lost the bet. No way she imagined he’d take first place all by himself. That means he’s free now— completely. Honestly, that’s a huge relief for us.”

“That’s true,” I said. “If Kōenji actually joined in, things wouldn’t go smoothly.”

Even so, there was no proof yet that the lone GPS signal belonged to Kōenji.

He was not the type to cooperate voluntarily, but private points could change his behavior. If someone added a personal reward on top of the exam incentives, he might lend his aid.

Until I saw Horikita’s class myself, any conclusion would be premature.

“Wouldn’t it be good to have the commander use a tactic?” Sanada suggested, referring to the identification ability granted to the commanders.

Hashimoto shook his head. “No, better save it, this could be a strategy to make us waste our Tactics. Besides, if he's just goofing off, it’s a waste to use it on him.”

A lone unit acting independently— there was a 90% chance it was Kōenji.

Tracking him on the tablet wouldn’t be difficult unless he regrouped with Class A. But once 6 p.m. arrived, the GPS wouldn’t update again until 9 a.m.

“Have the commander identify the GPS of the student who started acting alone.” I said.

“...Are you sure? It's almost certainly Kōenji, you know?”

“It’s fine. Think of it as a test.”

Shiraishi nodded and gave Shimazaki instructions to activate the tactic on the student who had separated from Class A.

We would know the result soon enough.

Before that result came back, I asked Nishikawa to relay a message as well.

“Nishikawa. Contact Shimazaki for me.”

“Eh? Now? While he's in the middle of talking to Asuka?”

“It doesn't matter. Try contacting him.”

“Mm, okay.”

Nishikawa operated the radio— only to remove her earpiece moments later, shaking her head in refusal.

“I can't get through.” she muttered with a puzzled expression.

“I see. When the commander is talking to one of the VIPs, the system reads the line as occupied, so no one else can connect.”

“Ah, so that's it... You wanted to test that.”

In other words, the connection is basically one-to-one. If the VIPs are in different locations, they can't speak at the same time, so it seems they have to hang up and reconnect each time.

In other words, the communication network was strictly one-to-one. If a VIPs happened to be in different locations, simultaneous conversation was impossible, forcing them to disconnect and reconnect every single time. A rather primitive setup.

“Then after he's done talking with Shiraishi, I need you to relay a message.”

“So you actually have something to tell him. Okay, what should I say?”

“Until the event begins, I want updates every five minutes on the movements of the three classes. From there, depending on the event’s content, if the situation stabilizes, we’ll take a brief rest.”

The GPS updated every five minutes, but contacting the Commander every single time would only create needless strain. With no end in sight, both the Commander and the VIPs would burn out far too quickly.

“Got it. I’ll tell him.”

Nishikawa placed her earpiece back into her right ear, then rephrased my message in her own words and relayed it cleanly to Shimazaki.

A moment later, Shiraishi— having just finished her call— walked over to us.

“H9’s GPS signal has been confirmed. It really was Kōenji-kun,” she reported, “His designated role is ‘Guard.’”

“So it was him after all. Let's just pray he plays around for a bit and then calls it quits.” Hashimoto muttered.

“Understood. Let’s move on,” I replied, shifting my focus.

Weapon handling included, there was an issue I needed to settle first.

“We’re going to determine our formation for when the class moves together. Depending on the width of the path, two to four people can walk side-by-side. For the VIP placements: Shiraishi in the front row, Takemoto in the middle, and Nishikawa in the back. One in each row to distribute risk.”

I divided the entire class into three groups mirroring the VIP split.

Hashimoto as the main guard in the front, Kitō anchoring the rear. The middle row was composed mostly of those lacking in mobility or combat capability.

“Hey, wouldn’t Nishikawa be better in the front? She actually moves pretty well,” Hashimoto suggested.

1

“I considered it, but I decided it's also important to place someone who can react instantly in the rear. Besides, Shiraishi isn't good at raising her voice, and her voice doesn't carry far. But Nishikawa, on the other hand, can.”

If we need to communicate over distance, inaudible messages become a risk.

“I see, so the merits far outweigh the demerits.”

“Our priority is preventing the class from being wiped out in one blow. Even if we split up for an event or get separated unintentionally, centering movements around each VIP will make regrouping easier.”

Just then, Morishita strode over with a weapon in hand.

“I don’t appreciate being placed in the middle row, Ayanokōji Kiyotaka. I am one of this class’s main forces.”

“I can't believe you came all this way to complain, Morishita... The middle suits you,” Hashimoto said with exasperation, shooing her away with a light wave of his hand.

“Demoting me and putting a traitor in the front row instead... It seems we've been saddled with a dud for a leader. Let’s go, Yamamura Miki.”

2

“I-I'm... in the front row…” Yamamura whispered timidly.

“Oh? To appoint not only a traitor but also a thin paper to the front lines. This is hopeless.”

1

I'm getting quite the earful just for deciding on a formation.

Grumbling, she returned to the middle row, then looked back and shook her head theatrically.

I ignored it.

2

Through Shiraishi, we sent the full formation details— including the VIP placements— to Shimazaki. It would guide him in deciding who to contact as the situation developed.

Several more minutes had slipped by.

The guards huddled among themselves, voices overlapping in deliberate uncertainty, turning the subject over again and again— One moment they adjusted their stances, the next they switched their grips, probing every angle in search of the best way to hold and aim their weapons.

Meanwhile, I turned my attention to the rulebook, scanning the section that outlined major penalties.

Major Penalties (For each infraction discovered, the class will lose 100 Class Points, and in severe cases, the student will be expelled.)

・Acts of violence, restraint, or destroying/stealing another student’s weapon.

・Intentionally attacking after being ruled OUT.

・Stealing or seizing items from another class.

・Falsely reporting information in response to inquiries from the school.

・Any behavior that undermines the foundations of the special exam.

Mashima-sensei had already mentioned verbally that attacking after being ruled OUT— or attacking during the off-hours— would only be penalized if done deliberately.

But even if someone pretended it wasn’t intentional, the attack wouldn’t eliminate the target; the system would invalidate it.

Trying to abuse loopholes was pointless. If someone truly wanted to find an edge case, they might— but the risk far outweighed the reward.

The school had made its stance clear: they would enforce the rules uncompromisingly.

Precisely because the uninhabited island exam contained inherently ‘grey’ areas where oversight was difficult, they needed that final clause ‘behavior that undermines the foundations of the exam’ to clamp down on anything ambiguous.

Under these conditions even Ryūen would avoid actions skirting the edge.

1

“Ayanokōji! Update from Shimazaki! Class A is almost about to enter G8.”

“Got it, that’s the situation with Horikita's class. What's next?” Hashimoto was the first to react to the newly delivered report from the commander.

“Wait— before that. Kōenji’s GPS signal already reached I9.”

“I9? He’s fast as hell.”

Only Kōenji could sprint across mountain paths as if they were flat terrain.

“What about Ryūen’s class?”

“Gimme a sec. Shimazaki, what’s the status of Class B?”

Hashimoto impatiently sought an answer from the commander, but since a VIP always had to act as an intermediary, the time efficiency was poor.

“Not being able to talk directly to the commander is more of a pain than I thought.”

Frustrated by the unavoidable forced waiting time, Hashimoto let out a sigh.

“The exam's just started. It's not time to panic yet,” Morishita, who was sitting on the ground and completely resting, muttered without looking at Hashimoto.

“This special exam is on an uninhabited island, so the rewards are pretty big. Plus, if we get hit with the elimination penalty, someone will be expelled. Hard not to feel tense, you know?”

“Ayanokōji Kiyotaka said that, but when it comes down to it, the only option is Hashimoto Masayoshi,” Morishita added.

“Stop deciding that on your own. Someone shut her up— Ayanokōji, say something to her.” Hashimoto complained.

“............”

1

“H-Hey, Ayanokoji? Don’t tell me… if we lose, you’re actually planning to make me the sacrifice—?”

“Relax. I won't do that.”

“You better not be lying. What was with that pause just now? What was that pause for?”

1

“I was just playing along.”

1

“............You are telling the truth, right?”

“Sounds like someone was more scared than expected,”

Hashimoto gave a wry smile, looking annoyed at Morishita who kept chiming in.

“Class B appears to have stopped as well.” Takemoto reported, and Hashimoto nodded once.

“Makes sense. They’re probably relieved to get some distance from Ayanokōji. Just like us, they’re likely taking this time to strategize. And whether or not they’re teaching weapon technique will create a big difference later. I bet they were terrified we’d push west toward them.”

Ichinose's class seemed to have stopped as well, perhaps shifting to a discussion. I had Takemoto tell the commander that we didn't need reports on Class D for a while unless there were major movements.

A little later, a transmission from the commander came in to Shiraishi.

“He says he’ll report something discovered from what Ayanokōji-kun asked,” Shiraishi relayed before listening again to the incoming voice.

“It seems the commanders are prohibited from contacting each other during the exam. No personal conversations, no coded messages. Also, the tablet capture function does not work— any attempt saves a completely black image.”

“So when you spoke to Shimazaki before leaving, you were asking about that,” Hashimoto said.

“I wanted to see whether commanders had any freedoms outside their assigned authority,” I said. “Turns out they’re being monitored far more strictly than expected.”

“Probably because even though they share the same physical HQ, the system treats each commander as if isolated,” I added.

Layers upon layers of constraints.

“Also,” Shiraishi continued, “it seems each GPS marker on the tablet map can be tagged individually. Even markers from other classes can have notes added. So he labeled the isolated I9 signal with Kōenji-kun’s name.”

“Understood. Thank Shimazaki for me, and tell him to contact us anytime if he notices anything.”

After acknowledging, Shiraishi stepped back. I removed my goggles and stepped forward with the assault rifle, positioning myself where everyone could clearly see me.

“When the event begins, we’ll be on the move constantly. And depending on the quality of the supplies, the likelihood of combat will steadily rise. So right now, before that happens, we’re taking the time to go over proper weapon handling.”

Faces tightened with attention as I continued.

“After the lecture, I want one guard— someone not confident fighting— to temporarily hand their weapon to each VIP in turn. Then every few hours, we rotate. Always keep a weapon with a VIP.”

Toba frowned. “What? VIPs can’t use weapons… wait. That’s the point, isn’t it?”

He understood quickly.

“Exactly. One of the easiest ways to identify a VIP is to see who can’t use a weapon. In a sudden fight, the enemy will target the unarmed student first.”

A murmur rippled through the formation.

A VIP without a weapon was an obvious weak point. By rotating rifles among them, we blurred the distinction.

Of course, this means one less Guard will be functional during a fight, but I want to incorporate this as a form of insurance, including the element of misdirection.

“So this way, the enemy won’t be able to easily figure out who the VIPs are,” Hashimoto said.

“That’s right. But when handing a weapon to a VIP, remove the magazine and check the chamber every time. I want the chance of them firing reflexively during an ambush to be zero.”

“Hm, what was that? The chamber?” Toba asked.

“The bullet chamber. Even if you remove the magazine, a round might remain. We’ll inspect the paint gun’s internal structure later, but establishing the routine now will prevent mistakes.”

Using the assault rifle in my hand I demonstrated: removing the magazine, checking the chamber, ensuring it was empty. Then I handed the rifle to Toba and guided his hands, making sure he practiced until the motion became natural.

“…You’re surprisingly knowledgeable about this,” he muttered after practicing a few times. “You even look natural holding it.”

“Ijūin from Horikita’s class taught me a lot about these guns in the past,” I explained. “I didn’t think it’d ever be useful, but it seems that knowledge is paying off now.”

1

“Is that so...Then they’ll probably adopt a similar strategy too,” Toba said grimly.

Ijūin really did know a lot about guns, but I’d never learned anything from him. Outside of the toy rifle at the culture festival, I had never held a weapon like this before.

The only reason I understood the mechanics was because the White Room had drilled such knowledge into me. Toba had no way to confirm any of this, of course— which suited me perfectly.

“I get what you’re aiming for,” he said. “I’ll practice whenever we have downtime, yeah?”

Toba was athletic— good at basketball, good in PE. He had the makings of a frontline asset. Maybe that was why he kept stepping forward, acting like he needed to carry the team.

From there, I settled in and conducted a thorough weapons lesson: how to hold the gun, how to aim, how to stabilize the barrel, how the recoil felt.

I fired several rounds into a nearby tree, demonstrating the projectile speed and impact.

Ideally, I would have everyone try it themselves— but wasting ammunition at this stage was not an option.

Radio reports arrived at intervals. Ten more minutes passed: Horikita’s class continued their direct march north without deviation, while the other two classes seemed to have stopped entirely— likely discussing strategy and organizing internally.

Once most of the class had grasped the basics of handling the rifle, Kitō approached me, rifle in hand.

“…Let me confirm something,” he said. “You’re aiming for first place in this exam, right?”

I blinked. “That’s unexpected, Kitō. I didn’t think you’d ask something like that.”

“A survival game like this— it feels like an extension of childish play. But if you’re going in with the intention to win, then I’ll take it seriously.”

“Ayanokōji’s betting his expulsion on this,” Hashimoto cut in quickly, trying to keep tensions down. “Obviously he’s going all in.”

“There’s no scenario where we choose to lose,” I added.

Kitō wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted a clear declaration— perhaps because he couldn’t sense any fighting spirit from me. Or maybe it was simply intuition on his part.

1

“But you touched on a good point.” I said quietly.

I’d need to adjust my evaluation of him, even if only slightly.

1

“Unfortunately,” I continued, “even if you expect me to aim for first place, I doubt I can fulfill that.”

Kitō’s eyes narrowed sharply. “…So you’re saying you don’t have confidence.”

His already piercing gaze hardened even more.

“I don’t think it’ll be easy to win,” I replied. “But that’s not the reason.”

I paused mid-sentence, letting the words fade. I drifted my gaze away from Kitō, sweeping across the students gathered before me.

Nearly everyone was present, no reason to avoid this conversation.

“This is a good opportunity,” I said. “It may feel a little off-track, but I need you all to listen.”

Dozens of eyes fixed on me. They had been waiting for my answer.

“Our ultimate goal as a class— the position we should aim for— is second place.”

The reaction was immediate. Silence fell instantly.

“Second? I mean, it’s not a bad goal, but starting with that… seriously?” Shimizu blurted out, confusion plain on her face.

No one aims for second.

Wanting first place is the default mindset. Something everyone instinctively holds. That was why Shimizu looked so genuinely surprised, tilting her head and making no attempt to hide her dissatisfaction.

But I continued calmly.

“The reason is simple: I intend to yield first place to Ichinose’s class.”

“…Huh? What? That makes no sense at all.”

Most of them looked bewildered— understandably so. Only a few— Hashimoto, Morishita— knew enough to hold their tongues.

The alliance between Class C and Class D.

The agreement between Ichinose and me.

If I were ever going to reveal it, this special exam was the ideal moment. And announcing it now was almost mandatory.

“Raising this class— one that fell to Class C— back to Class A within a single year won't be easy. Many of you had practically given up at one point. You know how steep this climb is.”

Despite how unacceptable yielding first place must have sounded, they weren’t panicking. They were confused, shocked— but no one lashed out. They were willing to listen before objecting.

“I transferred here for the purpose of elevating this class to Class A. But with the difficulty being what it is, we need a strategy that wastes nothing. One crucial part of that strategy is Ichinose’s cla—”

“N-No—wait, hold on.”

Hashimoto abruptly stepped forward, inserting himself between us, cutting off my words with desperate urgency.

He leaned in, whispering sharply “This isn’t the time to bring that up. You know damn well this is the worst moment for it…”

We were moments away from mobilizing as a united force— and I had chosen now to mention the most delicate topic, the alliance.

“What strategy?” someone demanded.

“Ah—well… uh—” Hashimoto stammered, completely at a loss.

Even he couldn’t fabricate a clean lie under this pressure. His agitation was visible.

I ignored Hashimoto's advice and continued.

“That strategy lies in forming an alliance with Ichinose’s class.”

The words dropped like stones into still water. Shock rippled instantly across the group. Hashimoto froze beside me, his expression almost pained. But compared to the class… his reaction was tame.

“W–wait… what? Alliance? Why?” Confusion erupted among the group.

Facing the bewildered students, I began to explain why such a partnership was necessary.

An alliance with A Class or B Class was impossible. With them, competition was inevitable. But with another lower-ranked class— especially one as trustworthy as Ichinose’s— the foundation for cooperation existed. That was what made the idea viable.

I then explained the specific terms of the agreement. In any four-class exam, we would yield victory to whichever class had fewer class points— by even a single point. Not for free, but as part of a reciprocal arrangement.

By conceding victory now, this class— soon to fall into D Class’s position— would secure full cooperation from Ichinose’s class later.

“In this survival exam,” I said, “we’d normally face three enemy classes. Nearly a hundred and twenty opponents. But with an alliance, that premise changes. The effectiveness of such an alliance doesn’t require detailed explanation.”

“So if Class D is on our side,” someone murmured, “we only need to focus on A and B…”

“Not only that,” I added, “but fewer enemies also means more allies. The path to victory becomes significantly shorter.”

The idea struck them heavily. The core was to utilize the alliance to its fullest.

Hashimoto chimed in, supporting the logic. “If we go all out just to end up last— or third at best— it’s pathetic. But if we can grab second place cleanly, that’s not bad. We earn stable points, close the gap with A and B, and when academic exams come around, we push even further.”

With that, we would accelerate further, and by then, all four classes would be on a level playing field. Hashimoto's words painted a not-unrealistic prospect, but many students were left with parts they couldn't quite digest.

From Morishita’s gaze alone, I could tell she was saying to him, ‘You really shouldn’t be sticking your nose in.’

She and Hashimoto both knew about the alliance. They understood why it was risky to reveal it now— just before a test where unity mattered most.

“So if we’re hearing about this alliance,” a guy said cautiously, “does that mean things have already been set in motion behind the scenes?”

A critical question. How I answer here was extremely important.

Saying the alliance was fixed and unchangeable was easy, but not optimal.

“You could say a provisional agreement is in place,” I said. “They’re eager to cooperate.”

“Well, of course they’d be eager,” someone scoffed softly. “They’ve got nowhere left to climb but up.”

The dissatisfaction rising through the class wasn’t just arrogance toward Class D. Their reaction was shaped by everything that had led up to now. Not just Matoba— most of the class shared the same sentiment.

“Cancellation— or rather refusal— is possible,” I said evenly, “but it’s not something we can attach and detach at will. If we reject it now, we’ll never join hands with D Class again. And depending on circumstances, there’s a slight chance D Class could side with A Class or B Class instead. That’s a risk we must accept.”

Matoba clicked his tongue. “Sounds pretty selfish to me.”

A normal response. For most of them, the idea of forming an alliance now— especially on those terms— was nothing short of infuriating. Matoba looked completely exasperated.

Before the tension could snap, Motodoi raised her hand slightly, cutting through the silence.

“Let me say something too. Do we have to decide on this alliance thing now? No matter how you look at it, now is not the time. It's true this isn't a favourable special exam for us. But sacrificing first place just to make things more convenient later… I can’t accept that. It’s not about wanting to keep D Class from winning. I just don’t want us giving up our chance to win.”

“Exactly. We’re basically crawling to them with a gift. ‘We’ll make you first, so let’s team up.’ How is that right? Aren’t we supposed to be above them?” Matoba added supporting Motodoi’s stance.

He didn’t say it outright, but his meaning was clear: If anyone should offer concessions, it ought to be Class D. That sentiment spread through the group like a subtle, unified pulse.

“And dropping something like this now, when the exam’s already begun?” Matoba continued. “Perfect timing to throw a bomb. And Hashimoto being all eager about it just makes it smell even worse.”

Morishita's eyes gleamed with a smug look, as if to say, ‘See? Told you’.

They weren’t wrong to suspect Hashimoto. The fact that he, usually the most skeptical one here, had supported the idea from the start made it obvious he’d known beforehand. Discontent was inevitable.

Realizing that, Hashimoto looked upward as if regretting overstepping in so forcefully this time.

“Shall I punish him for you?” Morishita said.

“That won't be necessary.”

I had no intention of reprimanding Hashimoto. If anything, his presence— the friction he created— was a necessary element to move the conversation along.

“Regardless,” I said, addressing them again, “an alliance won’t be finalized through a brief discussion here. And it shouldn’t be. But that doesn’t mean we dismiss it outright either. If we want to consider whether it’s truly necessary, then let’s revisit the topic after this special exam.”

The absence of further objections told me enough. Pushing here would accomplish nothing.

Opinions and resistance can shift easily once results speak for themselves. Something dismissed as unnecessary often becomes indispensable once people feel its value. What I’d done here— this uncomfortable friction— was the first step toward that shift.

“Sorry for bringing this up so suddenly,” I said. “As Matoba suggested, let’s leave the alliance discussion for after the exam. For now… forget this happened.”

With that concession, the tension Matoba had been holding finally eased; he nodded firmly.

That was when it happened.

A faint breeze stirred through the trees.

The rustle of leaves. And beneath it— something else. Multiple sources, distant but distinct, reaching my ears from deep within the forest.

No one else noticed.

Of course they didn't. Until moments ago, Shimazaki had been feeding us updates every five minutes on the other classes' positions. Everyone had grown comfortable, lulled into a false sense of security.

1

No one truly expected combat this early in the game.

And that expectation had bred a dangerous carelessness.

“Hashimoto,” I called quietly.

“Hm?”

Sensing a subtle shift in my tone, he tilted his head.

But my gaze had slipped past Hashimoto, past the rear ranks, and into the dim, tangled depths of the forest— toward something the others had not yet seen.

And then I spoke.

“—Everyone. Run. Now.”

3

Hashimoto blinked, “Huh? What are you—” but the moment was cut off as the area erupted all at once.

It was as if someone had taken a silent room and slammed the volume to maximum. Voices burst like shattering glass.

“There they are! Fire, fire, fire!!!”

“It's Class C! Get 'em!”

“Go, go, go, go, GO!”

Dozens of throats screamed from inside the forest. I couldn’t place a single voice, but I knew one thing— they didn’t belong to us.

Figures burst out from the shadows between the trees.

But even before shapes fully emerged, a violent storm overtook them.

A storm of paint.

Not shots— a downpour, a horizontal torrent of color cutting through the air with the force of a typhoon.

Accuracy didn’t matter. This was pure volume, a barrage meant to overwhelm.

More than half the rounds slammed harmlessly into the thick tree trunks serving as natural cover, but the rest found their marks.

A paintball struck Morishige's shoulder and burst in a splash of color. He stood frozen at the rear of our formation, his brain still struggling to process what had just happened.

Then another round hit Motodoi square in the hip. She yelped at the impact.

And with that, the thin thread holding the group’s composure snapped.

Some students, realizing suddenly that this was an attack, tried to raise their guns— only to be drenched in paint before the barrels even lined up.

Others panicked, dropping their gear in their haste to flee.

Some remembered too late that their backpacks lay at their feet, turning back only to be shot the moment they hesitated.

Seconds. That was all it took for our rear formation to collapse into chaos.

Paint splatters bloomed across uniforms like grotesque flowers.

The attackers finally came clearly into view, confirming which class had ambushed us— but there was no time to dwell on it.

“Your bags! Don’t leave your bags— just run!” Hashimoto’s voice cracked as he yelled, waving both arms to draw people toward him.

“We don’t even know how many are out there— run! Just run!”

But nearly all his words vanished beneath the rising tide of panic: screams, confusion, the heavy percussion of paint rounds slamming into earth and bark.

1

“Kitō—”

I started to call out an order to him in the rear guard, but the words died in my throat. I didn't need to explain.

The moment our eyes met— or perhaps even before that— his mind or body had already understood the crisis and moved into action.

If everyone in C Class simply fled with their backs exposed, the number of casualties would climb. The only viable option was for a few to stay behind and delay the enemy.

Kitō darted behind a thick tree trunk and opened fire.

His movements carried none of the hesitation one would expect from someone who hadn’t yet fired a shot in real combat. A distant wristwatch alarm chirped somewhere in the forest— a clear sign he’d taken at least one attacker out.

That single flash of resistance shattered the enemy’s momentum.

The ambushers, who had charged with nothing but brute force and surprise, slammed into their first wall and scrambled behind cover.

Spurred on by Kitō, Machida and several other boys dove behind whatever trees or rocks they could find, returning fire in hurried, messy bursts. There was no time to aim— just the raw instinct to shoot before being shot.

“Leave the rear to Kitō and the others!” I called out. “Everyone else, fall back!”

I signaled to the front ranks— those still untouched by the barrage— and pushed forward. Shiraishi and Hashimoto scrambled after me.

Shouts, screams, and the staccato crack of paintball guns echoed behind us. I led the way forward, cutting through the narrow path.

Only by running on it did I truly notice the island’s condition.

The forest was largely untamed, yet here and there, faint trails— cleared just wide enough for a person— cut through the undergrowth. Artificial, but minimal. Someone had carved these intentionally. Perhaps this island was destined for more development in the future.

Even so, letting our guard down would be fatal. One step off the trail meant plunging into the thick wilderness. Without accepting the inevitability of cuts and scrapes, escape would only grow more dangerous.

1

Our wristwatches updated to F12 as we fled southeast. The distance between us and the trailing group began to widen, allowing me to slow the pace.

“You've gotta be kidding me... The exam's barely started, how many people got taken out just now?!” Hashimoto snapped, then turned his neck sideways, “Shira— no, Takemoto, hurry and tell Shimazaki to report the situation! Why did he let Class B get so close!”

Shiraishi, one of the VIPs, was barely holding herself upright.

There was no chance she could handle a radio call. Hashimoto recognized that instantly and barked the order again toward Takemoto.

Takemoto, equally breathless, kept jogging as he tried to speak into the transceiver.

“Huh? No, what... What the hell is that, hah... I-I'll tell him!”

A response came from headquarters; Takemoto muttered something almost to himself as he glanced at Hashimoto.

“The tablet shows no sign of other classes approaching our area,” he reported. “And B Class’s position hasn’t changed.” The words hung in the trees like a cold echo.

“What the hell's that about!” Yoshida snapped, frustration escaping him in a single harsh breath.

Anyone could figure out why that was happening if they calmed down a little.

However, right now, they are still in the midst of panic and likely have no room to think.

Considering the strain on the class, I slowed my pace from a jog to a brisk walk.

“The answer is simple,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Ryūen’s class pretended to withdraw to avoid conflict. The first three GPS updates confirmed that distance— they made it look real.”

Branches snapped beneath our feet as we pushed through a thinning patch of brush.

“But that was just a façade. A setup for an attack. All they needed was for their commander to activate the Full GPS Jam before the next update.”

Takemoto stumbled as he listened, though whether from fatigue or shock I couldn’t tell.

From the moment they activated the tactic, their GPS data froze for thirty minutes. The scouts’ watches also became useless. Meanwhile, Ryūen’s group received constant updates from Kaneda and moved unerringly toward us.

A perfect, calculated advantage.

Enough time to close in, surround, and strike with overwhelming force.

“They blew their once-per-game trump card right from the start…” Yoshida muttered, voice trembling with anger and regret.

1

Several others clenched their fists.

It's easier said than done. It was undoubtedly a gamble.

Even if we hadn't noticed the attack, if we had finished our discussion and immediately resumed moving, it wouldn't have been such an easy ambush.

“If anything,” I added, “the speed of their decision means they probably intended to use that tactic the moment they understood the rules.”

Most classes would hesitate at the start— planning, learning weapon handling. Ryūen accounted for all of that.

It was a strategy full of bold decisiveness— very characteristic of Ryūen.

Of course, there were other factors behind the ambush’s success— but this wasn’t the time to discuss them.

“An ambush, huh… He could’ve just waited and let the others tear each other apart. Hah… That bastard Ryūen really took on a hell of a risk.”

Exasperation, panic, anger— and grudging admiration.

Hashimoto’s honest feelings spilled out for everyone to hear.

When I glanced back at the students following us, I noticed one of them had begun to fall far behind.

As the one leading the group, I sharply reduced my pace and brought us to a complete stop within three seconds.

“Hey, Ayanokōji,” Hashimoto called out, “Why’re we stopping? Shouldn’t we put more distance between us and them?”

“No,” I replied. “This is our limit. If we push any harder, people will start falling out.”

Right on cue, the last straggler— Morishita— finally reached us and plopped down on the ground.

“Huff… huff… as suspected, it's because I ran a full marathon on the schoolyard yesterday… huff,” she said, offering a needless little fabrication.

I wondered if she’s the type who can't be satisfied without telling an unnecessary lie every time.

“Seriously, Morishita,” Hashimoto muttered. “You volunteered for this yourself and you act like that?”

“Don't be so hard on her. Besides Morishita, the girls especially are close to their physical limits.”

2

“Y-Yeah… guess that makes sense,”

Expecting the non-athletic girls to keep pace with the athletic boys would’ve been unreasonable.

1

“If we’re struggling this much,” I said, “the enemy shouldn’t be able to chase with full force either. And the fact they haven’t appeared supports that.”

The forest behind us had fallen into a silence that made the earlier uproar seem unreal.

I told everyone to take at least one sip of the water we had; we needed to conserve as much as possible.

With light hydration, and settled breathing Yoshida leaned against a tree and muttered.

“Honestly, that ambush was impossible to defend against… a flaw in the rules,”

His frustration was understandable, though not entirely accurate.

It wasn’t undetectable.

The person who needs to spot such things fastest is the commander who can see everything at once.

Once the ‘Full GPS JAM’ is initiated, positional updates every five minutes cease to change. A commander who watched carefully could have noticed that every GPS marker froze at once. Even if people pause, five or ten minutes with no movement is unnatural.

If there was no movement, it was necessary to report that there was no movement.

But Shimazaki overlooked that.

3

A commander’s competence becomes the class’s competence.

And that weakness had revealed itself painfully early in the exam.

Of course, I can't blame him. It's easy to imagine he stared at the tablet without letting his guard down, since the exam had just started. But perfectly tracking more than a hundred GPS markers is beyond ordinary ability.

While confusion persisted, Takemoto contacted Shimazaki to begin sorting who was safe and who had been taken out. I left that line of communication to Takemoto and moved a little away to check our supplies.

“Hey,” Hashimoto standing beside Takemoto came over. His expression had darkened. “Bad news. Kitō got taken out. I mean… I didn’t think he’d make it out, but still.”

2

“It couldn’t be helped,” I said. “His opponents were likely all of Class B. He bought us more time than we could’ve asked for.”

If his role of holding them back hadn't functioned, the damage would have been much greater.

“Apparently, the three who escaped late were Yano, Sawada, and Tsukasaki. But they don't know our position or the enemy's, so they'll be wandering alone for a while. It'd be great if they could make it to a position where we can merge…”

As for that, we can't go and get them right now, so we'll just have to wait.

“And… more bad news,” Hashimoto continued reluctantly. “Rokkaku dropped his weapon while escaping. Do we report it to the school as lost? Or try to retrieve it later?”

Looking apologetic, Rokkaku bowed his head from a short distance away.

“Mark it as lost,” I said. “Tell the commander and have the school retrieve it. As for Rokkaku, if necessary we’ll assign him to a vacant role.”

When I checked directly with Rokkaku if that was okay, I received a strong reply along with another apology.

The wind stirred gently through the trees. For a fleeting moment, the forest was quiet.

Hashimoto, who was watching this scene, looked at me a bit curiously.

“The only saving grace in this fucked-up situation is that you're staying calm through it all.”

It had been less than an hour since the special exam began.

In a multi-day special exam, even if this moment was a crisis, a leader who ran about in confusion would be unable to clear the path ahead.

“Practically speaking… can we still manage?” Hashimoto asked.

“I’d be lying if I said we weren’t affected,” I answered. “In less than an hour since the start, our position as Class C has deteriorated badly.”

“...Yeah,” he muttered.

“But that doesn’t mean our chance of winning is gone. If one of our VIPs was taken out, then we take down two of theirs. If another falls later, then we take down three. It’s that simple.”

“I see. In that case, this is the last time I'll show a weak attitude. I'll act believing that if I follow your instructions, I'll find a way out. So, what's the plan from here?”

“There are several options,” I replied, “but above all we must keep our distance from Ryūen's class.”

“So they might draw us into complacency and strike again,” he said.

“I think they stopped their pursuit considering the possibility of us setting an ambush and counterattacking, but they might still come after us if they see an opening. Just in case.”

Even with the gap we've created, it's a distance that can be closed with a short run; it is by no means a safe zone.

“Just to be sure, can you go check again if any students are having trouble at this stage? I want you to tell them to talk about anything they don't understand or are anxious about.”

Hashimoto accepted without a sour expression and set off toward our classmates without hesitation.

As if trading places, Shiraishi, who had been listening nearby, approached me.

“I heard some of your talk with Hashimoto,” she said. “Even in a situation like this, Ayanokōji-kun, you don't feel anxious about possibly being the one to face the annihilation penalty first?”

“I'm not anxious,” I answered. “If that were the outcome of giving our best, I would accept it.”

“But it wouldn't be just defeat,” she said. “In the worst case you would be expelled and Class C would be barred from reaching Class A.”

“If you don't want that future, then we have to win,” I said.

It hadn't been that she doubted our victory; her tone suggested otherwise.

“Then let's go take that win together,” she said.

I met her eyes, and she kept looking back at me with a soft expression. There was no trace of anxiety in her attitude or manner.

Rather, she even seemed to be enjoying the current crisis in some way.

Why was that?

What was the driving force that made her feel that way?

A faint sense of unease stirred within me, but I pushed it aside.

1

For now, reality demanded to be faced directly.

The facts were simple and brutal: fifteen members of our class had been rendered out and eliminated, one of them a VIP.

1

I methodically ran through the situation on the spot again and organized every piece of information.

Three students— Yano, Sawada, and Tsukasaki— were not marked as out, but they were currently separated from the main group.

Shimazaki was the only one who had their current locations, yet until Class B's ‘Full GPS JAM’ tactic expired we wouldn’t be able to launch a rescue from our side.

By contrast, Ryūen's side already knew where those three were, so it was highly likely they'd split off teams and send people after them.

“If only Shimazaki had noticed something…” Hashimoto muttered, almost speaking the thought out loud as regret.

“That's wrong, Hashimoto Masayoshi. The one to blame is Ayanokōji Kiyotaka.” Morishita pointedly, deliberately— jabbed an index finger at me, the tip of it coming within inches of my eye.

“A true leader would have told the commander—”

As she was saying that, I immediately raised my assault rifle.

2

“What do you think you're—”

1

Morishita froze. For a moment, she truly believed her own sarcasm had earned her a shot to the chest; the slight dilation of her pupils made that obvious.

Before she could finish her sentence, I grabbed her shoulder with my left arm, pulled her towards me, and pulled the trigger once.

3

The timing aligned almost perfectly with Kondō emerging silently from the shadows, his gun already beginning to swing toward me. One clean hit to his chest stopped him cold, his expression shifting into a stunned, empty stare.

2

Before anyone could understand what was happening, an alarm blared from Kondō's watch.

Even as he looked frustrated at having aimed his gun at me, he took his finger off the trigger.

“Damn it, you actually noticed!?”

Judging by his ragged breathing, he had been circling the area for quite some time.

“You hit me in one shot… no, how’d you even notice?”

He asked with what little breath he could spare.

“You must have been pretty tired. You couldn't completely silence your sounds. Also, it was lucky for me that your primary target was me, and not just anyone. Wasting time trying to line up a perfect shot was your downfall.”

Despite not being able to take me down, Kondō's somewhat satisfied expression was impressive.

“Well, yeah… taking down the leader would've been huge. Should’ve just fired randomly.”

While still keeping an eye on the surroundings, Hashimoto approached Kondō, who was sitting down to rest.

“That was one hell of a surprise attack you guys pulled off. You got us good.”

Even after being judged ‘out’, you can still have a conversation, so Hashimoto casually praised Class B.

“Ryūen-san's amazing, isn't he? Well, the game has begun. It's your fault for letting your guard down.”

“There might be other students besides Kondō looking for us. Let's start moving soon.”

“In that case, shouldn't we have Shimazaki check the GPS for Class B's location?”

Yoshida rushed out the suggestion.

1

I didn’t respond. I simply turned and began walking, and Shiraishi clarified in my place.

1

“Kondō-kun managed to get close because their tactic erased their entire class’s GPS. Since thirty minutes haven’t passed, even if we contact the commander now, we won’t get detailed information.”

“Oh… right. Yeah, that’s true. My bad.”

“Well then, do your best to escape while you still can—”

Leaving behind Kondō, who cheerfully uttered a taunting line, we headed south, as if returning to the start.

Let us turn back the clock— approximately thirty minutes prior.

At the very moment Kaneda had activated his tactic, freezing the GPS positions of every Class B student, Ichinose had finished her full inspection of the commander’s tablet.

The map of the deserted island glowed faintly before her, dotted with four colors— one for each class— each light pulsing in rhythm with the number of students still in play.

For Class D, her own, each green icon could be tapped to reveal a tag, letting her confirm the identity of every member at a glance. The other three colors, however— the red, blue, and yellow dots representing the rival classes— yielded nothing but blank tags when touched.

Still, those blank tags could be edited. They permitted manual text entry— meaning if she could determine the owner of a particular GPS signal, their name could be recorded. Should their role within their class come to light, that too could be noted. She could even use it for flagging students whose movements seemed suspicious.

Ichinose finally tore her eyes away from the tablet and set it on the small folding table outside her tent. With the transceiver in one hand, she began a slow measured walk around the headquarters area.

This was because she needed to see for herself who the other class commanders were and what kind of condition they were in.

During this exam, the commanders were bound by surprisingly troublesome restrictions. That is, they were forbidden from talking to or communicating in any way with other commanders.

Even if she wanted to contact Ayanokōji, she couldn’t simply ask Shimazaki to relay a message. That kind of contact was completely off-limits.

The distance between tents made things worse. The ordinary chatter of other classes’ commanders barely carried this far, and approaching too closely would look like the start of an attempted conversation— a risk she couldn’t afford to take.

And this restriction didn’t end with commander-to-commander interactions.

“It really is impossible after all.”

Commanders were confined to a strictly defined zone around headquarters, and the layout ensured that, even from within that boundary, they could never come into contact with the students out on the field.

Even if a student walked all the way to headquarters, a direct conversation with the commander was still out of the question.

In other words, the only way to deliver their voice to their class's VIPs was through the transceiver.

That single channel was the only form of intervention commanders were allowed.

That's why, at the start of the exam, she reported the information from the tablet every five minutes.

Were any classes moving toward them?

Was there a chance of an early engagement?

She relayed it all, because confirming those risks was simply part of the job— an obvious and necessary duty for anyone in her position.

“But—”

Watching the interactions between the three commanders from afar, Ichinose noticed something that stood apart.

Kaneda, the commander of B Class, was the only one who never stopped talking into his transceiver. Even more, he kept working his tablet without taking a single breath of rest, as if pressured by some kind of urgency.

If that were all, she might not have questioned it. But despite operating under such tension, Kaneda suddenly lifted his head once and caught her watching him. His expression was calm— ordinary— almost as if silently asking, Is something wrong?

Ichinose offered him a gentle smile and a light wave, while Kaneda, after giving a brief nod, immediately returned to his tablet, resuming his conversation with his VIP.

A perfectly natural response.

So natural that it felt unnatural to Ichinose.

She returned slowly to her tent. Once she was out of Kaneda’s line of sight, she retrieved the tablet from her table.

“Ryūen-kun’s group’s position is exactly the same as it was five minutes ago. No… it hasn’t shifted at all.”

GPS always carried some degree of error. Even a perfectly still group would usually show at least one icon wobbling a little on the map.

But the coordinates she remembered matched the current ones down to the smallest pixel.

Not a single point had moved.

“Has Kaneda-kun already stopped their GPS? If so... why?”

There was no need to wonder. The reason was obvious.

They must have judged that using their trump card— Full GPS Jam— right at the start would give a meaningful advantage.

A plan to attack Class C, who were located closest to them and most likely to be stationary.

Of course, this possibility wasn't absolute, but it was better to warn them of the danger.

With that thought, Ichinose quickly moved to a spot where Shimazaki could see her.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t gesture. Couldn’t even mouth a word. Any of those would be a strict violation of the rules, so Ichinose wouldn't and couldn't risk it.

However, she judged that the act of simply continuing to stare at Shimazaki would not fall under communication.

If she was warned, she could step back. But if their eyes met, perhaps he would sense her urgency.

But Shimazaki’s attention stayed locked onto his tablet. He never looked up.

A minute passed. Then two. She waited in silence for even a brief moment of eye contact.

Nearly five minutes later, he finally raised his head to loosen the stiffness in his neck. Their eyes met for only a fraction of a second.

And then he looked back down, unaware of what she had been trying to convey.

To him, Ichinose was an enemy.

1

And the prohibition against commander communication was a rule he clearly intended to obey to the letter.

“It's no use... is it.”

There was simply no way left for Ichinose to warn Class C.

Any further attempt risked a penalty for Class D, and staying in that spot too long would carry the additional danger of drawing Kaneda’s attention. Forced to concede, Ichinose retreated and slipped back toward her tent.

She then checked in with Kobashi over the radio, calmly emphasizing that the situation was stable. For the first day, she instructed them to avoid any conflict and focus entirely on the events. She also outlined a few possible routes in case another class tried to chase them down.

Another five minutes passed, and the GPS refreshed.

Ayanokōji’s Class C showed small signs of activity, but their location hadn’t changed— they were either taking a break or discussing strategy. Either way, they weren’t on the move.

Meanwhile, Ryūen’s class was rigidly frozen in place on the GPS. No deviation at all.

“As I thought... judging by the timing, Ryūen-kun’s group should be closing in on Ayanokōji-kun right about now…”

An anomaly that the commander, had it been Ayanokōji, would have surely noticed.

Sensing something but being unable to convey it— that helplessness lingered in her chest.

Ichinose quietly wished for C Class’s safety.

Class B was aiming straight for Class C’s weak point. With the brain and body functioning separately in this special exam, exploiting that gap became all the more effective.

To recognize that Shimazaki’s command would leave an opening— and to capitalize on it— Ichinose found that level of insight genuinely impressive.

It might be unavoidable that Class C would be caught by surprise, but even so, she believed that with Ayanokōji there, they wouldn't be completely annihilated.

Then, Ichinose thought about what would come next.

If Class C suffered a devastating blow, they would be forced into a tough fight.

And in that situation, what would Ayanokōji do?

The answer guided her decision.

Ichinose instantly judged this as the perfect moment to bring up the alliance, and grabbed her transceiver.

“—I want you to listen carefully.”

So that D Class could rush forward at any moment— to help C Class. No— more precisely, to help Ayanokōji.

3

We reached the outskirts of headquarters— area F13.

After the long retreat through the forest, the clearing felt almost unreal in its stillness. The canopy thinned overhead, letting warm shafts of late-morning sunlight fall across the trampled grass.

While remaining vigilant, first things first: contact the commander and confirm the situation.

“Thank you. I’ll relay that to Ayanokōji-kun and the others right away.”

Ending her conversation with Shimazaki, Shiraishi lowered the transceiver and quietly lifted her gaze.

“The GPS of everyone in Class B was just updated significantly. It seems that many of them are now clustered in F10, having moved from the C11 area where they were originally staying.”

That told us the tactic’s effect had expired— and with it, the invisible blindfold that had been wrapped around our heads.

It also meant that the danger of an unseen ambush in our immediate surroundings had dropped sharply.

“And… The three who were separated— Yano, Sawada, and Tsukasaki— they’ve all been confirmed out. They wandered too close to F10, it seems, and were taken down.”

Hashimoto muttered a curse under his breath. “Can’t be helped… not without a VIP to guide them. But hold on— what exactly does it mean that ‘many’ of them have clustered in F10? You’re saying not all? Give me the specifics.”

Despite his pressing, Shiraishi remained composed.

“As I mentioned earlier,” Shiraishi replied, calmly tracing her slender, pale fingertip across the unfolded map. “the main body of B-Class— what appears to be their primary group— is concentrated in this F10 area. However, here— one grid southeast— another cluster of blue GPS signals has moved. Ten of them in total.”

“Ten?” Hashimoto leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You’re saying they’ve split off a second team to chase us?”

“No, not necessarily,” I answered. “If we go by normal reasoning, it could be that one or two students chased after us on impulse, the way Kondō did. The VIP and their guards might have gone to retrieve them. The group’s size suggests they wanted to avoid revealing who their VIP is. Sending just one or two people would’ve made it obvious.”

“I agree with Ayanokōji Kiyotaka's deduction,” Morishita chimed in. “If they go parading over there like idiots, with just one or two of them trying to pick up the lost person, it would be like practically announcing that one of them is the VIP.”

“So that's the most likely scenario. But we can't let our guard down yet, can we?” Hashimoto said, still being cautious. “They can only use the ‘Full GPS Jam’ once, but they can use the ‘Individual GPS Jam’ thrice. There's still a possibility they're chasing us nearby—”

“That's unlikely,” I replied. “It was a plan that succeeded through two elements— the surprise attack and the full-scale assault— where strategy and firepower worked together. Now, even if they burned all the ‘Individual GPS Jam’ to disguise the GPS positions of three people, what follows wouldn't last. Unless they move with the VIP, it is difficult to grasp our exact position.”

“...I see. So we can finally relax a little.”

Hashimoto, who had been shouting hoarsely while fleeing through the storm of paintballs, looked utterly exhausted.

He dropped onto the grass with an exhausted thud, and the rest of the group followed suit, sinking to the ground as if their legs had simply given out. The collective fatigue was palpable

Eighteen of us. That was all that remained.

“Half-ruined” was exactly the right expression.

Two VIPs, one Analyst, and fifteen Guards.

With Nakajima gone, we’d have to push Rokkaku into the analyst role, cutting our guards down to fourteen. The Scout position sat empty as well, but for the moment, keeping the guard count as high as possible took priority. In this state, there was no way we could afford a direct confrontation with any other class.

The blame lay squarely on me— Believing distance alone would keep the enemy from attacking, I had allowed the group to remain stationary for too long.

4

A disaster born from the carelessness and arrogance of none other than the leader of Class C.

That's how everyone would see this battle— those in the class and those watching from outside alike.

9