The first day of the week arrived with the sun just barely crawling over the academy walls. The training field, usually quiet at this hour, was packed with students—half of them still yawning and blinking sleep from their eyes. Even Kana stifled one herself, rubbing at her neck as she joined the others in line.

  The Copper Class classroom was empty. Every one of them had been summoned here instead.

  Wor-en stood at the front of the field like a monolith—stone-faced, arms behind his back, the rising sun casting long shadows behind him. He wasn’t the kind of man who needed to shout to get attention. His silence was heavy enough.

  Kana scanned the field. Five groups had assembled. Ten members each. She immediately noted the distinction—only her team, the trio, were first-years. The others were third and fourth years, gold class based on their arm bands.

  Veterans, by academy standards.

  They stood taller, older, more confident—though Boris and Adam towered enough to hold their own in height, if not experience.

  Wor-en’s voice finally cut through the morning haze. “As of today, I am in charge of your northern expedition preparation.”

  His words rang sharp.

  “We are in the process of hiring instructors. Ones with real experience from the North. I may not be your instructor for long. One or two months, perhaps. But until then... you will listen to me.”

  Kana’s brows furrowed slightly. He made it sound like that was supposed to be comforting.

  “I want you all to understand something.” His eyes swept the crowd, pausing on each team. “Your lives will be at stake. This is not a simulation. This is not controlled. You will bleed if you are not careful. You will die if you are unprepared.”

  A hush fell over the field. Not silence—just the kind of stillness that happens when every student finally starts to realize this wasn’t just another field exercise.

  “We begin today with the most foundational lesson: role and positioning.”

  Some of the older students exchanged glances. Kana caught a few smirks.

  Wor-en noticed too. “You may think you understand your role already,” he said, voice colder. “But understanding a role in theory is not the same as holding it while something with claws the size of your forearm is trying to rip out your throat.”

  That shut them up.

  “A tank is not brave because he stands in front. A support is not weak because they stand behind. And a ranged attacker is not useless when they’re flanked or cornered. Your formation will break if one of you fails to understand not only your place—but your purpose.”

  Kana swallowed. The words hit harder than she expected. They weren’t just being trained. They might be preparing for war.

  “Each of you has weaknesses. Don’t hide them. Don’t ignore them. The person next to you is your answer. That’s why you're in a party. Your strength will compensate for their gap—and vice versa.”

  He let the words settle. There was weight to them. The kind of weight that came from experience—too much of it.

  “For the next few days, we will drill this until you can do it in your sleep. Positioning. Awareness. Coordination. You will learn to fight as one—or you will not fight at all.”

  Wor-en stepped back, shoulders squaring as his voice hardened further.

  “Now. Let’s begin.”

  Kana felt her spine straighten.

  He hadn’t smiled once. Not even a glimmer of his usual confidence.

  And that, more than anything, made her uneasy.

  Maybe she had misunderstood what the Northern Expedition really meant.

  Maybe it wasn’t just a journey.

  Maybe it was a test.

  One they weren’t all meant to survive.

  …..

  Wor-en paced between the groups like a hawk circling prey. His sharp gaze missed nothing. Each team had been told to form up, and now he moved among them, pointing, adjusting, correcting.

  “Your class determines your ideal range. Your ideal range determines your position,” he said, voice clear and measured. “Tank classes—frontline. Limited radius of movement. Do not overextend. You are the wall.”

  In Kana’s group, Leo and Adam stepped forward to claim that position. Their armor caught the sunlight, and their stances were solid—experienced, if not yet refined.

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  “Close-range strikers, second line,” Wor-en continued. “Your job is to punish what gets past the tanks.”

  Boris and Andel took their places. Kana’s eyes lingered on Andel. His weapon was unusual—a lance longer than Boris’s spear, but with a ringed shaft and a sharpened tip that gleamed with reinforcement etchings. Not a standard academy issue. She smiled. Finally, Andel discovered his class capability.

  That’s custom-made, she thought. Like what I advised him. Good.

  Wor-en kept speaking. “Scouts, you’re part of the second and last line, and most of the time, the advance unit, depends on your scouting skills.”

  Suri didn’t protest when placed there. But she wasn’t like other scouts.. So she was placed behind instead along with the supports.

  Yuri and Toby joined her in the rear as the supports for the party.

  That left Kana, Roy, and Rin on the third line—the long-range damage dealers. Spaced apart. Responsible for controlling the flow of battle, not with brute force but with precise, distant strikes.

  Wor-en studied their formation, arms crossed.

  Copper Class teams, unlike their Gold counterparts, were full of irregularities—unique class types, odd synergy, unpredictable skill sets. He didn’t look entirely convinced.

  But he didn’t object. Yet.

  “Now,” Wor-en said, stepping forward again, “nominate a temporary party leader.”

  A quiet murmur passed through the students. He raised a hand to silence it.

  “This isn’t a popularity contest. The leader must have battlefield awareness—must know where everyone is, what they’re doing, and what they should be doing. That usually falls to support classes. They have the widest view.”

  His tone sharpened. “But that’s not a rule. If someone else fits better, choose them. This is a test. Adjustments can be made later.”

  There was a pause.

  Then Yuri stepped forward.

  “I’ll take the leader role for our party,” she announced. Her voice was steady, her chin high. As support, she was used to monitoring the whole party status, positioning, and flow. It made sense—on paper.

  Copper class students swayed their heads including Leo, then let his eyes drift sideways—toward Kana.

  A moment later, Toby spoke up. “Kana should be the leader.”

  Boris and Adam immediately echoed him. “I agree.”

  Boris looked directly at Yuri. “I don’t think she agrees.”

  Kana felt the tension twist slightly in the air. She hadn’t asked for the role. Hadn’t even considered it. But the others… trusted her. She was well aware of her [High Awareness] it would definitely be a helpful skill.

  She pondered all of a sudden. Why are there always ten members? Why didn't the academy increase it? Is it the limit of party members in the dungeon?

  Why was she so sure that there were a limited number of party members in the dungeon.. As if she did it before.

  Suri, silent until now, stepped quickly beside Yuri and leaned in, whispering something only they could hear.

  “Let’s observe Kana for now. If it doesn’t work, we’ll back your leadership position next time.”

  Yuri’s eyes narrowed. Her mouth opened—then closed. Suri’s voice was quiet, but her presence was something. Like she knew things. And Yuri knew exactly what kind of things Suri could do—what secrets she carried.

  They’ll realize it, Yuri thought, stomach knotting. They’ll see I’m the better fit. Eventually.

  She nodded at last. “Alright.”

  Kana blinked, caught off guard by the turn of events. She hadn’t said a word.

  But now everyone was looking at her.

  The leader.

  Whether she wanted it or not.

  ….

  A short break gave the students time to breathe. Some wandered toward the cafeteria. Others scattered to handle errands or simply rest.

  Kana stretched her shoulders, thinking she might find a quiet spot, but familiar voices cut through the murmur of the field.

  “Kana!”

  Elle York strode toward her, all warmth and brightness. The student council president—third year, popular, polished, always a presence. Oddly enough, though they were in the same academy, their paths rarely crossed.

  “I wish we were on the same team,” Elle said, beaming. “I know you’re capable.”

  Beside her walked Shaun Dawn, fourth-year council member. He was calm, composed, his hair tied back in a neat tail, and his uniform just a little too pristine.

  “I agree,” Shaun added with a polite nod. “Word spreads fast. The girl who inherited the Bane Dagger Art. That’s no small feat.”

  Kana was about to protest. She was confused for a moment. Yes, she inherited it but not fully inherited. Perhaps in-progress?

  Behind Kana, Boris cleared his throat—not once, not twice, but three times in quick succession. She turned to find him glaring subtly, then flicking his eyes toward Elle.

  Kana exhaled. Boys.

  “This is Boris,” she said dryly. “He’s from my village.”

  Boris stepped forward with all the awkward weight of someone trying not to care. He offered a hand to Elle and shook hers with a practiced gentleness that betrayed just how long he'd rehearsed this in his head.

  “I’m Boris,” he said, ignoring Shaun entirely.

  Under a tree nearby, Suri, Rin, and Yuri were already seated, their conversation drifting toward new fashion trends, dye techniques, and scandal of someone last year.

  Kana smiled, but only briefly.

  She’d felt something.

  A flicker of motion, barely a whisper against the edge of her awareness.

  Someone was nearby—watching.

  Too careful to be a curious student. Too good for a wandering professor.

  That area was supposed to be empty.

  Later, Kana thought. After class.

  She would check it herself.