Chapter 14 Summary
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed with a low, indifferent buzz, casting a sterile glow over the rows of desks that seemed to stretch into infinity. Outside, the sky was a muted gray, the kind of overcast that made the campus feel like a closed box, as if the school itself were holding its breath. Inside, the atmosphere was anything but calm. The recent announcement of the Survival Exam had turned the once‑languid routine of Class D into a battlefield of whispered strategies and furtive glances.
Suzune Horikita stood at the front of the room, her posture as rigid as a spear, her eyes scanning the faces of her classmates with a precision that left no room for doubt. She had taken the role of leader almost by default after the previous class president’s sudden resignation, and she wore the mantle with a quiet, unyielding authority. The murmurs that rose and fell around her were like the tide—constant, restless, and never quite settling.
“Listen up,” Horikita said, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. “The Survival Exam will begin at 0900 tomorrow. We have three hours to secure the flag hidden somewhere in the east wing of the school. The team that brings it back first will earn ten points for the class. The rest will lose five. No one is exempt.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room. The stakes were clear, and the pressure was palpable. For many, the exam was a chance to finally prove themselves; for others, it was a threat that could plunge their already precarious standing even lower. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of papers and the occasional cough.
Kikyo Kushida, who had always been the quiet observer, shifted in her seat. Her dark hair fell in a sleek curtain over her shoulders, and her eyes, usually soft and unassuming, now glittered with a sharp, calculating light. She had been a reliable ally in the past, often stepping in to fill gaps left by the more outspoken members of the class. Yet there was something different about her now—a subtle edge that hinted at motives beyond the obvious.
Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, perched at the back of the room, seemed almost invisible. He was the epitome of the unremarkable student: average height, unremarkable features, a habit of keeping his head down. Yet those who had taken the time to watch him noticed the way his eyes lingered a fraction longer on details that others missed, the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly when a problem presented itself. Rumors whispered that Ayanokouji possessed hidden abilities, that his calm exterior concealed a mind trained in ways no one could fathom. He had never spoken about it, never confirmed nor denied, and that silence only deepened the intrigue.
Horikita turned her gaze toward Ayanokouji, as if testing the waters of his silence. “Ayanokouji, you’re good at analyzing situations. I want you to coordinate the scouting team. You’ll need to move quickly, stay out of sight, and report any clues you find. We can’t afford to waste time.”
He gave a barely perceptible nod, his expression unchanged. The weight of the assignment settled on his shoulders, but he carried it with the same indifferent poise that had become his trademark.
“Kushida,” Horikita continued, “you’ll handle logistics. Gather any supplies we might need—flashlights, rope, anything that could give us an edge. And make sure we have a clear line of communication. We can’t afford any missteps.”
Kushida inclined her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Understood, Horikita‑sensei. I’ll make sure everything is ready.”
The meeting continued, each member of Class D assigned a role that played to their strengths. The plan was simple on paper: a small scouting party would infiltrate the east wing, locate the flag, and signal the rest of the class to converge. The rest would hold the fort in the main building, ready to defend against any interference from rival classes. It was a strategy that relied on precision, timing, and trust.
As the meeting drew to a close, the students filtered out of the classroom, each carrying the weight of their responsibilities. The corridors were a blur of hurried footsteps and nervous chatter. In the quiet corners, a few whispered about the upcoming exam, their voices low enough to avoid the ears of teachers but loud enough to spread rumors.
“Did you see the spoilers online?” one student asked, leaning against a locker. “Someone posted a PDF download of the exam layout. I think it’s a fake, but you never know.”
Another replied, “I read a manga Chapter 14 analysis on a forum. They said the east wing has a hidden passage that only a few know about. If that’s true, we could cut the time in half.”
The conversation drifted to the idea of reading Classroom Of The Elite chapter 14 online, of finding a free translation, of downloading the English version. It was as if the students were trying to cheat the system before the exam even began, seeking any advantage they could find in the digital shadows.
Horikita caught snippets of these conversations as she passed by, her eyes narrowing. She had always believed in earning points through effort, not through shortcuts. Yet she could not deny the practicality of gathering information, even if it came from questionable sources. She made a mental note to keep an eye on those who might be tempted to stray from the plan.
The night before the exam, the dormitory was a hive of restless energy. Some students pored over textbooks, others rehearsed routes in their heads, and a few, like Kushida, meticulously packed bags with supplies. Ayanokouji sat alone on his futon, a thin notebook open on his lap. He traced the lines of a diagram with his fingertip, his mind moving through possibilities with a speed that seemed almost preternatural.
He thought about the exam’s structure, about the way the school’s administration liked to test not just physical endurance but psychological resilience. He recalled a lesson from a past training session—how a single misstep could cascade into a failure, how the perception of others could be manipulated. He smiled faintly, a rare expression that hinted at an inner calculation.
When the alarm sounded at 0900, the entire school seemed to awaken in unison. The doors of the east wing opened with a metallic sigh, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with lockers and old bulletin boards. The air was thick with the scent of dust and old paper, a reminder that this part of the school had not seen much foot traffic in years.
Horikita stood at the head of the group, her eyes scanning the hallway. “Remember the plan,” she said, her voice steady. “Kushida, you’re on supply. Ayanokouji, you lead the scouts. The rest, stay alert and be ready to move.”
Kushida nodded, her bag slung over her shoulder, the weight of the supplies a comforting presence. She moved with purpose, checking each item—flashlights, a coil of rope, a small first‑aid kit—ensuring nothing was amiss. Ayanokouji slipped forward, his steps silent, his gaze flickering over the walls as if reading a hidden script.
The scouting party consisted of Ayanokouji, a quiet girl named Mei, and a lanky boy named Haru. They moved like shadows, their breaths shallow, their senses heightened. The east wing was a maze of corridors, each turn presenting a new set of possibilities. The flag, a simple red banner with the school’s emblem, was hidden somewhere within this labyrinth, and the clock was ticking.
As they turned a corner, a faint sound caught Ayanokouji’s attention—a soft click, like a lock being turned. He halted, signaling the others to stop. He crouched, his hand moving to the floor where a faint outline of a pressure plate was visible. He pressed his palm against it, feeling the subtle give of the mechanism. A hidden door swung open, revealing a narrow passage that led deeper into the building.
Mei’s eyes widened. “Did you see that? There’s a secret route.”
Ayanokouji nodded, his expression unreadable. “We’ll take it. It could save us time.”
The three slipped into the passage, the walls closing around them. The air grew colder, the darkness more oppressive. Their flashlights cut thin beams through the gloom, revealing old maintenance equipment and cobwebs that seemed to have been untouched for decades. The passage twisted and turned, eventually opening into a small, dimly lit room. In the center stood a wooden pedestal, and atop it, draped in a crimson cloth, was the flag.
Ayanokouji stepped forward, his hand hovering over the cloth. He could feel the weight of the moment, the eyes of his classmates, the expectations of the entire school. He lifted the cloth slowly, revealing the flag in its full glory. The red banner fluttered slightly in the stale air, a symbol of victory that seemed almost surreal.
“Got it,” Mei whispered, a smile breaking across her face.
Ayanokouji turned to leave, but a sudden sound echoed through the room—a metallic clang, followed by a low, guttural laugh. The door behind them slammed shut, and the lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
From the darkness emerged a figure, tall and cloaked, the face partially hidden by a hood. It was none other than Kikyo Kushida, but something about her posture, the way she held a small device in her hand, was different. The device emitted a faint hum, its lights pulsing rhythmically.
“Congratulations,” Kushida said, her voice calm but edged with something colder. “You found the flag. But you’re not the only ones who know about this passage.”
Horikita’s voice crackled over the comms, “Kushida, what are you doing? Return to the main hall!”
Kushida’s eyes flickered to the communicator, then back to Ayanokouji. “I’m sorry, Horikita‑sensei. I thought I could help our class, but the truth is… I’ve been approached by Class B. They offered us a deal—ten points for us, ten points for them, if we sabotage the exam.”
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the hidden room. Ayanokouji’s mind raced, analyzing the situation with a speed that seemed almost superhuman. He realized that Kushida’s betrayal was not just a personal choice; it was a calculated move designed to destabilize Class D’s cohesion, to turn allies into enemies.
“Why?” Mei asked, her voice trembling.
Kushida’s smile was thin, almost pitying. “Because I’ve seen how the system works. We’re all pawns. I thought if I could control the outcome, maybe I could change something. But I see now that I was wrong.”
Ayanokouji stepped forward, his presence commanding despite his usual reticence. “Kushida, you have a choice. You can still help us. The flag is already in our possession. If you return it, we can still win.”
Kushida hesitated, the device in her hand still humming. She looked at the flag, then at the eyes of her classmates, and finally at the device that represented the promise of points from another class. Her hand trembled, and the device slipped, clattering to the floor.
The sound was enough to trigger a hidden alarm. Red lights began to flash, and a voice over the intercom announced, “Security breach detected. All personnel evacuate the east wing immediately.”
The passage began to collapse, dust raining down from the ceiling. Kushida’s eyes widened in panic. “We have to get out!” she shouted, her voice cracking.
Ayanokouji acted without hesitation. He grabbed the flag, securing it under his arm, and then lunged toward Kushida, pulling her up before the debris could crush her. Mei and Haru followed, their flashlights flickering as the corridor trembled.
“Run!” Ayanokouji shouted, his voice echoing off the walls. “We need to get back to the main hall before the doors lock.”
The group sprinted through the collapsing passage, the floor giving way beneath their feet. Ayanokouji’s mind was a blur of calculations—timing, distance, the structural integrity of the building. He pushed his body beyond its limits, his hidden abilities surfacing in a way that seemed almost instinctual. He felt the surge of adrenaline, the sharp clarity of purpose, and the faint echo of a training that had long been buried beneath his calm exterior.
They burst out of the passage just as the main doors to the east wing slammed shut, sealing the area behind them. The hallway was filled with smoke and the distant wail of alarms. Kushida, panting, clutched the device, now inert, as if it had lost its purpose.
Horikita was waiting at the entrance, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and fury. “What happened?” she demanded, her voice trembling.
Ayanokouji handed her the flag, his expression unreadable. “We have it. Kushida tried to betray us, but we stopped her.”
Horikita stared at Kushida, then at the flag, and finally at Ayanokouji. “You… you saved us,” she whispered, a hint of something softer breaking through her usual stoic demeanor.
Kushida lowered her head, tears glistening in the dim light. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought I could change things, but I only made it worse.”
The two women exchanged a glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Horikita’s leadership, once rigid and unyielding, now showed a flicker of compassion. She placed a hand on Kushida’s shoulder. “We’ll deal with this later. Right now, we need to get back to the main building and report our success.”
The group moved as one, the flag held high, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the corridors. As they approached the central atrium, the rest of Class D was already gathering, their faces a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. The teachers, alerted by the alarm, stood at the periphery, their expressions unreadable.
Horikita stepped forward, raising the flag. “Class D has secured the flag,” she announced, her voice resonating through the atrium. “We have earned ten points.”
A murmur of cheers rose from the students, but it was tempered by the knowledge of what had transpired in the east wing. The exam was over, but the repercussions would linger. The betrayal, the hidden passage, the narrow escape—all of it would become fodder for the next round of analysis, for the next whispered conversation in the dormitory hallways.
Later, as the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the school’s stone walls, the students gathered in the common room. The atmosphere was a blend of triumph and exhaustion. Ayanokouji sat alone at a table, his notebook open, the flag’s image sketched in faint pencil lines. He stared at the drawing, his mind replaying the events of the day.
Suzune Horikita approached, a cup of tea in her hand. She placed it gently on the table, the steam rising in delicate curls. “You were… impressive today,” she said, her tone softer than usual. “I’ve always known you had potential, but you… you saved us.”
Ayanokouji glanced up, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since the exam began. “I did what needed to be done,” he replied, his voice low. “The plan was sound, but the variables changed. I had to adapt.”
Horikita took a sip of her tea, her gaze drifting to the window where the sky was turning a deep violet. “Kushida’s betrayal… it could have cost us everything. I never expected her to turn against us.”
Ayanokouji’s expression remained neutral, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “People are complex. Their motivations shift. It’s not the betrayal that defines them, but how they respond afterward.”
Horikita considered his words, the weight of leadership pressing on her shoulders. “We need to rebuild trust,” she said. “Class D has always been the underdog, but we’ve proven we can rise above. We have to keep that momentum.”
Ayanokouji nodded. “Trust is built through actions, not words. We’ll need to be vigilant. The next exam will be even more demanding.”
The conversation drifted to the upcoming challenges, to the rumors circulating about the next survival test. Some students whispered about reading Classroom Of The Elite chapter 14 online, about finding a PDF download