“What’s up?” Kana asked, glancing down at her hand, still being held by Toby.

  Toby immediately let go, grinning wide with excitement. “I healed someone infected with a curse yesterday!”

  “It was from a noble house, so they paid me generously. The Adventurer’s Guild even gave me a special license. They said they’ll contact me if anything curse-related comes up.”

  He dug into his pocket and handed her five silver coins. “Thank you. Please accept this. Without you, I wouldn’t have discovered my skill.”

  “You don’t need to…” Kana stated, though her hand didn’t hesitate to take the coins.

  Suri’s excitement became a grunt from the side as soon as Kana’s hand took the coin, clearly unimpressed.

  With no classes scheduled for the day, the classroom had turned into a social hub. Students trickled in to chat, trade gossip, or dig for information.

  Near the door, Adam and Boris stood like statues trying to flex casually—Boris more naturally than Adam. Roy, the necromancer, joined them too. He looked out of place with his thin frame and quiet demeanor, but he laughed along with their nonsense like he belonged.

  Suri, Kana, and Rin stayed in their corner, their chatter jumping from random topics to skills.

  “Rin, do you have any other skills besides [Judgement]?” Kana asked, curious. She still wasn’t entirely sure what the [Inquisitor] class actually did. Are they some sort of judge? What’s a judge.. anyway?

  Rin’s expression turned solemn. “My other skill is [Guilty Torture]. I used it before… on bad people. They lost their minds. Even now, they’re not the same.”

  Suri immediately pulled her into a side hug and patted her head. “It’s okay, my dear Rin. It’s their fault.”

  Kana blinked, caught off guard by the gravity of Rin’s answer. “That’s… Do you still use it?”

  Rin shook her head. “No. It eats a lot of mana. I was bedridden for a week the last time.”

  Kana exhaled, relieved. “That’s a relief. It sounds powerful, but risky…” She was curious about how the skill actually worked—but with Rin, it was better not to push.

  “No! You should use it on bad people more!” Suri said firmly. “I’ve got tons of mana myself. I can teach you a few tricks.”

  …..

  The day ended peacefully. There were snickers from upperclassmen again—nothing new. It was the kind of mockery that came with being copper, dull and harmless. They were used to it by now. As long as no one crossed the line, it was just background noise.

  Kana was half-asleep, wrapped in the warm blanket between thought and dream, when the bed shook from sudden movement.

  "Yes! I did it!" Suri launched herself across the room like a cat with too much caffeine.

  Kana groaned, squinting at her through the dark. “Found a dungeon without guards?”

  “No.” Suri beamed, her hair a mess of excitement. “I wrote a letter to my mom. And I delivered it—with my skill. I made a bird. A small illusion bird.”

  That woke Kana up a little more. Letters were a slow business—routed through merchant caravans, bundled and re-bundled, delivered when someone happened to pass near your hometown. Ten copper to a silver coin depending on the distance. A month at best. More if fate decided to toy with you.

  “You sure it worked?” Kana asked, doubtful. “That’s… far. Illusions break over time, or by distance. Not to mention the mana cost.”

  “Yes. If we’re measuring distance by land.” Suri’s grin widened, as if she’d been waiting for that question. “But birds fly, Kana.”

  Kana blinked.

  “It’s hard to explain since your class is not a mana user,” Suri said, already in professor mode. “But you can tether a spell with a mana thread. If no one severs the connection, it channels mana like the spell is cast right in front of you. It’s less like throwing a stone, and more like extending a rope.”

  Kana stared at her for a long beat. “So that’s why you’ve been clutching the [Blue Eye Staff] every night. I thought you were just tracking your summons again.”

  “Partly that. Partly this.”

  “And where,” Kana said, voice flat, “did you learn that trick? We haven’t even taken a class yet.”

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  Suri shrugged. “I thought it was basic knowledge. Is that not common sense for mana class users?”

  Kana blinked again, slowly.

  Is… Is Suri smart?

  She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

  …..

  Suri’s summon still hadn’t found a single gap in the patrols around the mid- to high-level dungeons near the capital. Guards were posted in regular rotations. No blind spots. No loopholes. It was like trying to sneak into a fortress. Bribing them would be their last resort since it would look like it’s going to cost them a lot.

  So, the next day, Kana changed her approach and was excited as it was one of the reasons she enrolled in the academy.

  “I’m heading to the library,” she told them. “Going to check if there’s anything useful in old texts. Maybe something overlooked.”

  Suri perked up, immediately losing interest. “Oh, then I’ll teach Rin about mana manipulation while you’re gone…” That was all she said before dragging Rin off like a kidnapper.

  Boris and Adam, predictably, were halfway into a training session, more on sound of grunt from doing strange physical exercises.

  Kana made her way toward the academy’s library—a towering, circular structure that rose like a forgotten observatory. Part of the domed roof was glass, letting sunlight flood the interior in pale beams, giving the air inside a golden dust-haze that felt sacred.

  No guards. Just a bookkeeper at the front, her expression unreadable, eyes tracking Kana from boots to shoulders like measuring fabric.

  “I’m looking for books similar to the ones written in the message of the gods,” Kana asked.

  “Text of gods?” the woman gave a soft chuckle. “Those were bought by the royal family and the Church… oh, maybe a decade ago? All gone. What’s left are fragments. You’ll find them in the last section.”

  Kana nodded, murmured thanks, and stepped inside.

  The shelves loomed like stone cliffs—tall as two-story homes, packed with tomes of every size and age. Everything smelled of parchment and ink and the slow decay of time. Students dotted the aisles, heads buried in books, their whispers barely above breath. Occasionally, a sharp hiss from the librarian would snap through the silence, slicing into talkers.

  Kana found the final section and began her search. She took a few titles that looked promising and carried them to a reading table near a window. One book mimicked the divine language—odd phrases written in a twisted form of English. It looked meaningful at first glance, but the more she read, the more the words were nonsense. Beautiful nonsense. Like someone had tried to fake a holy text using borrowed syllables they didn’t understand.

  She frowned and moved on to another.

  This one was about dungeons—territories, classifications, known owners. Most of the mid-to-high-level dungeons were already claimed or monitored by factions, nobles, or guilds. Some were state property. Others were Church-protected. But tucked near the back was a line about one on the border of a collapsed mining village, marked simply: Contested: No current owner. Magical disturbance unresolved.

  Kana raised an eyebrow.

  Now that was interesting.

  She flipped the page again. The map was vague, the coordinates not exact—but the name of the region was clear enough.

  A lead.

  And possibly a risk worth taking.

  Her focus on the books was deep—until a whisper cut through the silence.

  “Kana! Good to see you.”

  She turned her head slightly, just enough to recognize the voice. “Roy. Didn’t expect you here. Thought you’d be off lifting boulders with Boris and Adam.”

  Roy eased into the seat across from her, a small stack of books in his arms, his wiry frame as out of place in the library as he was among warriors. “I hate physical labor,” he said, with the dramatic sigh of someone who believed books were a higher calling.

  Kana offered a polite nod and turned her eyes back to the pages.

  “Uhm…”

  She blinked and looked up. “Yes? You want to say something?”

  Roy scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “I heard you helped Toby… with his curse thing. That was pretty cool.”

  Kana tilted her head, unsure where he was going with this.

  “It’s just… I don’t really get my skill,” he admitted. “I make the room colder. That’s it. No fireballs, no shadows. Just a drop in temperature. And even that creeps people out. I tried using it in the dorms during summer—figured it’d help—but they told me to stop.” He looked down, embarrassed. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”

  Kana studied him in silence. Roy was a [Necromancer]. A class with more potential than people gave it credit for—but dangerous, too. There were no details about his class, it wasn’t even recorded yet unlike her or Suri there was at least one or two same class before them though some of them could be as long as a decade ago. Is it a taboo class? Why would they invite him here?

  Toby had been grateful and it looked like it would be the same in the future.

  Roy might not be strong now, but if she helped him understand what his skill really was—what it could become—he might owe her later. Influence was power, after all. Even if it came from quiet, awkward boys.

  She tapped her finger on the book. “Maybe it’s not just cold,” she said finally. “Maybe it’s something else. The start of something deeper. Death doesn’t arrive with flames or noise—it comes with silence. And cold.”

  Roy looked at her, eyes wide. Puzzled.

  “Start small,” she continued. “Try casting it where something once lived. Like the bones of a bird. Or an old piece of meat. Just to see what reacts.”

  A pause.

  “Keep it quiet. Don’t tell the instructors. Anyone.”

  Roy nodded quickly, already scribbling the idea down in his notes. “Thanks, Kana. Seriously.”

  Kana watched him for a beat longer, then returned to her book.

  Information, favors, connections. Sometimes, these were more valuable than gold or steel.

  And Roy? He might be her next investment.