Team Blue

Layd Olani's heart swelled with curiosity as he rose from the comfort of his bed, drawn by the electrifying scene outside. His eyes widened with awe as he peered through the entrance of his tent.

Before him lay a mesmerizing spectacle of unity and purpose. The Actants, were divided into groups of twenty, each adorned in a vibrant, distinct color that symbolized their unwavering commitment. It was a sight that filled Layd Olani with a rush of pride and admiration.

As he watched, each group formed a tight circle as they stood shoulder to shoulder. In the center of each circle stood a higher-rank; a Phin or a Layd, their presence commanding respect and attention. These seasoned warriors exuded wisdom and experience, and their words carried the weight of countless battles fought and won.

In that moment, Layd Olani felt a surge of passion and pride for the Actants, knowing that they were not just soldiers but a family bound by a common purpose. Their training ground was alive with enthusiasm, echoing the timeless commitment to protect and defend.

In the midst of Team Blue's jubilation, Pentaro stood out as an enigma, a lone figure amidst a sea of excited teammates proudly flaunting their chest numbers. As he cast his eyes down to find the number '15' inscribed on his own chest, a flicker of discontent crossed his face, barely masking his inner turmoil. But what truly intrigued him was the attempt to recollect the number he had worn in his previous life as an Actant.

In that electrifying moment, he scanned the radiant faces of his comrades, each one radiating happiness and pride, except for Pentaro himself. His scoff of disgust seemed like a whisper in the midst of a cacophonous jubilation.

But then, something captivating captured his attention—an individual who stood out like a beacon of intrigue in the group. It was a fellow teammate with cascading brown dreadlocks framing a stern face, and the chest number '7' emblazoned boldly.

Pentaro's gaze locked onto D3, his curiosity piqued by the aura of seriousness that surrounded this remarkable figure. It was as if D3 held a key to a hidden world, a puzzle waiting to be solved amidst the vibrant tapestry of Team Blue's high spirit.

"Alright, team, gather 'round!" roared Phin Chester, a commanding presence at the center of the group. As their designated instructor for the years-long training ahead, his stern face bore a distinctive scar, a testament to his experience and authority.

His voice resounded with purpose as he issued his rallying cry. "Our success in the upcoming Clash of Colours depends on our unity and effort. I have full faith that not a single one of you is a weak link, so we'll push ourselves to the limit. Our goal is clear: victory. Failure is not an option," he declared with unwavering determination.

"As a beginning, you'll be participating in hand-to-hand combat, but we're taking a different approach," Phin Chester explained, gesturing towards the neighboring teams engaged in paired combat. They were all locked in one-on-one duels.

He continued, "Our strategy is unique. Two members will square off while the rest observe. The rule is simple: the one who falls loses. The victorious fighter will then go on to face another teammate, and this process will continue. We'll commence with Number 1 against Number 5."

In a split second, members bearing the numbers 1 and 5 on their shirts sprang to their feet, rushing to the center where Phin Chester had once stood, eagerly awaiting their clash.

"Fight!" Phin Chester's thunderous command echoed through the training grounds, and the two combatants lunged at each other with an intensity that electrified the onlookers.

Number 5 unleashed a relentless onslaught of furious, ferocious blows, attacking with unbridled aggression. His strikes landed with thunderous impact, each hit charged with the determination to win. Meanwhile, Number 1 found himself on the defensive, skillfully evading the barrage of attacks.

However, as the battle raged on, Number 5's unyielding assault proved too much to withstand. He landed a series of terrific blows squarely on Number 1's face, causing him to stumble and ultimately fall to the ground. A collective gasp of amazement and shock escaped from the onlookers, their anticipation reaching a fever pitch as they witnessed this intense showdown.

"Nine, you're up!" Phin Chester's voice cut through the charged atmosphere, and Number Nine leaped into action with a determined stride, charging headlong towards Number Five, who was still recovering from the previous duel.

In an exhilarating twist, Number Nine's attack was a masterstroke of precision. With a single, lightning-fast blow, he struck Number Five, sending him sprawling to the ground in a near-lifeless tumble. The impact was so swift and stealthy that it left the onlookers in stunned amazement.

A resounding "oh" reverberated through the crowd, their collective awe intensifying as they marveled at the sheer skill and finesse displayed by Number Nine. It was a moment of exhilaration, a testament to the prowess of these determined combatants in their quest for supremacy.

"Seventeen!" Phin Chester called out, and in a flash, Seventeen surged forward, determined to bring the fight to Number Nine. However, it was a battle of wits and agility, as Nine displayed incredible reflexes, narrowly avoiding Seventeen's charge.

In an astonishing turn of events, Nine swiftly closed in, seizing Seventeen by the neck with a vice-like grip. With remarkable force, he slammed Seventeen's head into the unforgiving ground, the impact resonating with thunderous intensity.

A collective "whoa" burst from the onlookers, their voices tinged with admiration and awe as they marveled at the sheer might and determination of Number Nine. It was a spectacle of power that left them breathless, a testament to the unyielding spirit of these warriors.

However, despite the crowd's enthusiasm, Phin Chester remained unmoved, his standards seemingly set even higher, challenging his team to reach even greater heights.

As the challenges kept coming, Three more daring group members charged forward taking turns, their determination etched into every step. But Number Nine was an unstoppable force, handling each opponent with a display of skill and power that left the entire group in a frenzy of amazement. The training grounds had transformed into a buzzing hive of chatter as they marveled at Nine's unrivaled prowess.

However, the atmosphere reached a fever pitch when Phin Chester's voice boomed again, this time summoning D3, who bore the number 7 on his shirt. A resounding shout erupted from the onlookers as D3 confidently strode to the center.

A hushed tension gripped the training grounds as D3, unlike his predecessors, didn't charge recklessly at Number Nine. Instead, he stood there, a picture of unwavering confidence, his eyes locked on Nine. The air was thick with anticipation, and the crowd held its breath.

In a startling turn of events, Nine, brimming with pride from his previous victories, decided to take the initiative. His fist, ablaze with an otherworldly power, surged forward like a fiery comet, tearing through the very wind itself. But D3 was something else entirely.

With lightning speed and an unimaginable force, D3 struck Nine with a blow that reverberated like thunder. The impact was cataclysmic, and Nine crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated. A stunned silence enveloped the onlookers, their eyes wide with disbelief and awe.

Among the shocked spectators was Pentaro, whose mouth hung agape in sheer astonishment. His voice broke through the stillness with a whispered exclamation, "Such power?" It was a declaration of the extraordinary, a moment of revelation that left everyone in awe of the enigmatic D3 and his undeniable might.

Pentaro's world seemed to freeze in an instant as Phin Chester's commanding voice pierced the air, summoning him with a simple but startling declaration, "Fifteen, you're next."