The two guards nearly dropped their bowls of soup when the trio emerged from the dungeon’s blue light, dusty and blood-specked but walking tall.

  Alive.

  “Wh— You— You're back?” one of them stammered, soup sloshing over the edge of his bowl. “We thought...”

  “That we were dead?” Boris stretched, rolling his shoulder like he’d just finished a morning jog, not a near-death encounter with a horned werewolf. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  The other guard blinked. “Most don't last the night.”

  Boris gave a faint smile under the hood. “We’re not most.”

  Kana and Suri said nothing, already heading for the horses.

  The guards watched them leave, whispering like they’d seen ghosts. In a way, maybe they had.

  Suri suddenly stopped mid-step. Her brows furrowed, eyes distant.

  “Kana,” she said slowly. “Wor-en’s looking for us.”

  Boris blinked. “Why? We don’t have class today, do we?”

  “It’s about the Kingdom Class research assessment,” Suri said, voice still heavy with realization. “First one’s today. At least the first part.”

  Kana froze for half a second before her eyes widened. “Wait... when is that today?”

  Suri nodded. “We’re expected at the principal’s office after lunch.”

  “We gotta hurry!” Kana said, already turning.

  Boris groaned as he followed. “I thought dungeons were supposed to be the hard part.”

  They all picked up their pace. Dirt on their boots, sleep in their eyes, cuts barely bandaged—but if there was one thing they refused to be...

  It would be late, because after that, comes suspicion from the academy personnel.

  They reached the underground district just as the street vendors started opening their stalls. The horse handler took one look at the condition of the beasts—mud-slicked, sides heaving, one of the reins frayed to threads—and narrowed his eyes.

  “You’re lucky they didn’t come back with broken legs.”

  “We're lucky we came back on our own,” Boris muttered.

  The man haggled like his life depended on it. Suri pushed back, irritated, but Kana relented. Time mattered more.

  Coins were exchanged. The handler muttered curses under his breath as the trio disappeared down the alley.

  By the time they reached the academy gates, the sun was slicing through clouds and their legs felt like jelly. They ducked into the alley way first—blood-smeared leathers off, crisp academy uniforms on—and entered, then jogged the last few corridors to the principal's office.

  A small crowd had already formed outside.

  A dozen first-years. Seven of them from the Copper Class. Four from Silver. One from Gold. All waiting.

  Rin waved them over the moment she spotted them. “Where have you been? We thought you left. No one was answering in your room.”

  “Just here and there,” Suri said with a lopsided smile. She dropped onto the nearest bench like her bones had given out.

  Kana seated next trying to not show any signs of exhaustion but her hallowed eyes betrayed while Boris went straight to the boy’s dormitory room.

  Rin tilted her head. “You all look terrible.”

  “We are alive,” Kana said. “That's enough.”

  The door to the principal’s office creaked open.

  “Next,” came the voice.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Kana glanced at the other students beside the copper class who were part of the class research assessment project of the kingdom. She wanted to ask them or know their classes but she was too exhausted to move. Too tired.

  After nearly half an hour, Kana stepped into the principal’s office, the door shutting softly behind her. The sun through the high windows did little to warm the stone floor or her aching legs.

  Suri had already gone. That left her—last, and far too tired for anything formal.

  The principal smiled when he saw her, gesturing to the seat across from his broad desk. “You look exhausted.”

  “Not my best day,” Kana replied as she sat.

  “That’s strange,” he said, folding his hands. “Wor-en tells me you three oversleep more than you breathe.”

  Kana didn’t argue. It wasn’t entirely wrong.

  “Let’s make this quick,” the principal continued, eyes scanning a parchment. “You specialize in daggers and bows, correct?”

  She nodded once.

  “Have you tried taming a bird? Or setting traps?”

  “I didn’t feel like it,” Kana admitted, too drained to lie.

  He raised an eyebrow but didn’t scold her. “You’re only the third [Ranger] class we’ve seen in the kingdom’s recorded history.”

  Kana blinked. That was new. She only knew one, at least from the history written in books.

  “The first arrived forty years ago—he wasn’t great with daggers, but he had a knack for traps and tracking. So much so, the kingdom hired him later as an investigative specialist. Tracking, reconnaissance and so on.”

  “The second one. About ten years ago. He tamed a falcon, could hit a target blindfolded, but wasn’t much for traps. Decent tracker, but not like the first.”

  The principal leaned forward, studying her.

  “You, on the other hand… Your file says [Marksmanship] and [Awareness]. Not trap-setting. Not taming. Just—sharp eyes and good with daggers and bows.”

  Kana shrugged slightly. “Maybe it has something to do with village I grew up in.”

  “Maybe,” the principal murmured. “Or maybe your class has more paths than we’ve realized. You all share [Marksmanship], but everything else diverges like [Mage]. Very curious.”

  He tapped a finger on the desk. “Any progress? New developments? Anything you’ve noticed?”

  Kana hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I feel... stuck.”

  The principal smiled at that. Not with mockery—just the tired wisdom of someone who’d heard it before.

  “We all do, at your age. That’s when the breakthroughs come—right after you feel like you’ve hit a wall.” He leaned back in his chair. “Take your time, Kana. Your path’s just getting started.”

  Kana walked quietly back to the dorm, the small pouch of silver coins resting in her hand. The principal had kept the conversation brief, but something about it still echoed in her mind.

  Wor-en.

  He had been there. Behind the principal. Silent, still, like a shadow cast in the wrong direction. If not for her [High Awareness], she wouldn’t have noticed him at all. Even with it, he had nearly slipped past her perception—and that unsettled her.

  Kana clenched her jaw. If he could hide from her skill, then either he wasn’t what he appeared to be… or he didn’t want them to see what he truly was.

  Either way, she didn’t like it.

  Kana sighed and let herself fall into bed, the springs creaking beneath her. Suri was already sprawled on the other side of the room, snoring loud enough to scare away nightmares. The sound was oddly comforting.

  A thought. of the Horned Werewolf’s red eyes still burned into her mind. That was a level of a low mid level dungeon boss.

  She rolled onto her side and stared at the ceiling. They needed a healer. Even that might not be enough. They needed more people. Skilled ones. Trusted ones.

  And that was the problem.

  Trust.

  How do you recruit allies for something built on secrets? For a cause that involved illegal raids? They couldn’t walk into an adventurer guild hall and post a request. They couldn’t afford to attract the wrong eyes—or worse, the right ones.

  She didn’t have an answer. Not yet.

  But she knew she’d have to find one or them soon.

  ….

  “Strange,” came a voice from behind. Wor-en stepped into the office, arms crossed behind his back, his tone mild, but laced with suspicion. “I just saw them earlier. They all seemed perfectly fine.”

  “Strange indeed,” the principal murmured, not looking up from the scroll on his desk. His fingers paused over a name. “No reports of duels. No infractions. Nothing from the guards.”

  He looked over his shoulder. “Did you activate your skill when you saw them?”

  Wor-en shook his head. “No. Not that time. Just a casual observation.” A pause. “Do you think they fought some students?”

  The principal laughed softly. “If they did, I doubt it lasted long. None of them would stand a chance against the last girl.”

  “You mean Kana?”

  “Yes,” the principal said without hesitation, finally setting the scroll down. “Her name, I’ll remember. And it’s not even close.”

  Wor-en frowned, but said nothing.

  The principal leaned back in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. “The annual tournament,” he said, almost to himself, “Might be interesting to watch this year.”