I swear, this wasn't supposed to happen.
One second, I was running away with all ten stupid flags tied to my belt like some walking piñata, and the next, bam, new rules.
A giant glowing countdown appeared across the sky like the heavens wanted to mock me.
Six hours left.
And just in case that wasn't enough pressure, the game had the audacity to announce that the entire map would collapse every minute until we were all forced into the center.
That meant one thing: I couldn't hide anymore.
"Why, of course," I muttered, hugging my flags like they were my only children. "Let's just throw me into a death pit with the number one and number three rankers. What could possibly go wrong?"
From my peripheral vision, I caught sight of the edge of the map. It wasn't collapsing nicely, oh no.
The ground was literally crumbling away, breaking into shards and sinking into glowing red nothingness.
Entire forests, hills, and villages vanished in the blink of an eye.
I squeaked. Literally squeaked. And I swear Leonhart's body was not made for squeaking.
"Move with the zone," I told myself, legs already pumping. "Match the pace. Outrun Zeref. Outsmart Kael. Totally doable!"
If only my belt wasn't jingling with ten flags that made me look like a traveling festival.
Back at the guild halls, I could only imagine what everyone was seeing. A giant screen projection of Leonhart, rank two, the terrifying ice commander of the Black Vultures, flailing like a chicken with its head cut off.
Because of course, that was exactly when a spider decided to crawl into my armor.
"AAAAH! Get it out! GET IT OUT!" I howled, clawing at my chestplate.
To everyone else? Leonhart was shrieking, hopping, and tearing at his armor in what probably looked like some battle ritual.
The Vultures watching from their hall were probably choking on their drinks. Luna would be facepalming. And Keiji? Oh, I could just picture him muttering, "So this is the man I entrusted the flags to."
Meanwhile, Zeref and Kael weren't even breaking a sweat.
Kael had already taken position at the center of the map, arms folded, waiting like the smug assassin he was.
His guild was gone, but did he care? Nope. He just crouched low, sharpening his daggers, like a panther waiting for prey.
And Zeref? That flaming menace perched himself high on the rocky cliffs near the center, smirking down at the chaos.
His meteor showers were on standby, his fireballs practically humming with anticipation.
Then there was me. Sprinting, squealing, and trying not to trip on Leonhart's ridiculously long legs.
"Why do men walk like this?!" I groaned, knees buckling as I tried to dodge falling debris.
The ground behind me cracked. A tree fell sideways, swallowed by the void.
My heart practically leapt out of my throat. I bolted, flags flapping, looking less like a warrior and more like a parade gone wrong.
Every guild watching from the safety of their halls had front-row seats to my humiliation. I knew it. I could practically hear their commentary.
"Why is Leonhart… hopping?"
"Did he just scream at a butterfly?"
"Wait, is he… running from a squirrel?"
Yes. Yes, I was. And I regret nothing.
Because you try surviving when everything around you wants you dead, including your own armor that thinks spiders make good roommates.
"Stay calm," I whispered, skidding around a crumbling hilltop. "You just need a strategy. Zeref's fire beats Kael's stealth. Kael's daggers can cut through Zeref's arrogance. And me? I just… I just have flags. FLAGS. I AM A FLAG HOLDER!"
The flags jingled mockingly against my hips.
The worst part? I could see them both already on the horizon.
Kael's silhouette at the center, calm, predatory. Zeref's figure up above, cloak billowing dramatically like he rehearsed it for hours. And me… running like the world's biggest coward.
"Don't you dare trip, Leonhart," I hissed at the body I was borrowing. "Not when literally every guild is watching this mess."
And oh, they were watching.
In the Flame Hearts' guild hall, half of Zeref's people were cheering him on, but the other half were just staring open-mouthed at the sight of Leonhart screaming at thin air.
In the Shadow Reapers' base, Kael's members were muttering things like, "Did Leonhart just slap himself? Twice?"
And in the Black Vultures' own hall? Dead silence.
No cheers.
No roars.
Just stunned disbelief.
Their second-in-command was skipping through the battlefield like a schoolgirl late for class.
Back on the field, the collapsing zone had other plans. The cracks grew wider, faster, forcing me inward no matter how much I resisted.
I could feel it now, the inevitable clash. The map shrinking, the countdown mocking me, Kael sharpening those daggers, Zeref twirling fireballs like toys.
I, however, was busy trying to shake a beetle out of Leonhart's gauntlet.
"Do you MIND?!" I snapped, flapping my hand so hard it looked like I was casting a new dance move.
From the corner of my eye, I swore I saw Zeref pause, eyebrows lifting, as if even he couldn't believe what Leonhart was doing.
Kael tilted his head too, no doubt wondering if his rival had gone insane.
Perfect. Let them underestimate me.
Because while they thought I was just a panicking idiot, I was already watching the zone. Measuring its collapse. Timing every step. Matching its rhythm.
If I couldn't overpower Zeref's fire or Kael's daggers, then I'd use the game itself.
I grinned, well, Leonhart's face did, but it was totally my grin inside. "You boys can look dramatic all you want. I'm just going to dance with the map until it spits us into the center. Then… well… may the best lunatic win."
And with that, I tightened my grip on the belt full of jingling flags and bolted once again, every step a mix of panic, strategy, and flailing arms.
The countdown thundered overhead:
04:47:34
The world was watching.
The top three were locked in.
And Leonhart, poor, poor Leonhart, was about to become a laughingstock legend.