The break ended before it ever truly began.

  Wor-en returned, trailed by a few older students carrying crates of materials. Rocks. Wooden logs. Training equipment that had seen better years.

  “Now,” Wor-en called out, his voice cutting through the buzz of idle chatter, “we begin formation drills. Simple simulation.”

  He gestured to the fourth-years. “Watch closely. This is how a seasoned party performs. Both of these groups have multiple dungeon raids under their belts.”

  The two fourth-year groups moved like clockwork. Their tanks stepped forward—massive figures behind reinforced shields and enchanted armor. Behind them, melee fighters settled into a midline, flanked by long-range casters and archers. Supports formed the rearguard. The scout circled wide, already advancing, scanning as if danger lurked in every corner.

  Wor-en didn’t hold back. He hurled rocks toward the group—some small, others the size of a man’s fist. One large log he swung in a low arc, aiming to topple the front line.

  The response was seamless. Tanks braced, catching or redirecting the logs. Melee fighters batted rocks out of the air. Long-range damage dealers focused on mid-sized projectiles, using spells or arrows to split them. Supports enhanced reactions, blocked attacks with minor barriers, or outright plucked the smaller rocks from the air with their weak attack type of skill.

  Even the scout had a task: calling out changes, directing vision, marking imagined threats. Every role had its place.

  Then came the third-years. Less fluid, more reactive. But functional.

  Finally, it was Kana’s group.

  Copper class.

  The least experienced on the field—and the one drawing the most attention.

  Kana moved into place without hesitation. The formation was simple enough: Leo and Adam at the front, Boris and Andel just behind. Kana, Roy, and Rin held the backline. Suri, unorthodox as always, shifted just outside formation—still behind, but already scanning.

  Support roles, Yuri and Toby, stood ready along with Suri.

  The drill began.

  Rocks came flying—some fast enough to bruise, others slower but bulkier. Logs followed. Wor-en didn’t speak, didn’t guide. He simply observed.

  Kana didn’t shout orders. She didn’t need to.

  The team moved well enough, instinct guiding where training had yet to harden.

  Still, something caught her attention.

  A flash of light from Yuri. Her hands flared with pale blue magic, and suddenly Leo and Adam were faster—too fast for their heavy armor. They blocked with unexpected fluidity, stepping lightly despite their heavy gear.

  [Speed Enhance]

  Kana noted it, storing the details. That skill could tip a real battle. With the right coordination, even a slow-moving tank could intercept lightning.

  The drill ended soon after. Nothing spectacular. Nothing unexpected.

  But Kana could feel it.

  They were being watched. Judged.

  Kana heard them.

  Whispers curled through the edges of the training field—murmurs that rose just above the breath of the wind. Students from other classes, third and fourth years alike, gathered at a distance. Watching. Measuring.

  "First years? No way..."

  "They’re all from Copper Class?"

  "That support—Yuri—was amazing. Heard she’s ranked top five in the whole academy as a support."

  But not all the voices were praise.

  “Only one long-range… actually moved.”

  “The others just stood there.”

  Kana kept her posture steady, but her hand tensed around her training bow. Of course they noticed. She had taken the shot. She’d intercepted three stones, while Roy and Rin hadn’t even twitched. Not out of fear—but out of skill limitation. Roy wouldn’t be able to use his skills from rocks while Rin.. how would rocks could be found guilty?

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Wor-en saw it too, she thought grimly. He was observant. Methodical. Every motion recorded behind that stern, expressionless face.

  How was she going to explain it?

  She’d taken the leadership role—reluctantly, maybe, but she’d accepted it. And if she wanted to shape them into something more than just the unusual Copper class, she couldn’t hide behind silence.

  Not anymore. Because their lives would be on the line as a party.

  .

  Relief swept over the field like a gentle breeze. A few students slumped where they stood, exhaling as if they’d been holding their breath since morning. The drill had drained them—not just physically, but mentally.

  Suri, Rin, and Yuri looked especially frayed at the edges. Even Suri, who usually masked fatigue behind a stony silence, rubbed her temple. The shape of the coming weeks was clear now—grueling, relentless, and far from merciful.

  They had an hour. One precious hour before the next class.

  Lunch.

  But Kana had something to do first.

  She caught Boris’s eye first. Then Suri’s. A slight tilt of the head. A flick of the hand—barely a gesture, almost forgettable to anyone watching. But they understood.

  Follow me. Quietly.

  There was no hesitation.

  They moved with the rhythm of students ready to eat, slipping past groups without drawing attention. Kana’s mind, however, wasn’t on food.

  She was going to confront the watcher.

  Because someone had been watching—carefully, quietly, and with far too much interest. Kana had sensed them behind the tree line, just past the utility shed near the field’s edge. Subtle presence, small shifts in the air, the weight of attention barely brushing against her awareness like a soft feather touching her skin.

  Could’ve been a student. Could’ve been nothing.

  But Kana didn’t believe in coincidences. Not anymore.

  The shadow man, she thought grimly.

  If so, there was no better time to provoke an encounter. In the middle of the day. With the professors still lingering on campus grounds. With dozens of witnesses only a shout away.

  If it was him, he wouldn’t strike—not here. Not openly.

  But she could look him in the eye.

  She could show him she wasn’t afraid.

  …

  In the central district of the capital, just outside the towering facade of the Adventurer's Guild Hall, a woman stood alone.

  A wand rested across her back, its polished wood glinting faintly in the morning light. Several daggers hung at her hips, their hilts nestled in worn, efficient leather. Her cloak shimmered faintly in purple and green, the long sleeves edged in embroidery that formed small, unfamiliar letters—probably dungeon items and expensive. The sort of enchantment only the wealthiest could afford.

  She was both.

  As she removed her hood, a few passersby slowed at the sight of her. It wasn’t just her presence—it was the stillness, the quiet gravity she carried. Her golden ponytail knotted in an intricate pattern. Pale, unblemished skin. Sharp features framed her oval face. Eyes like burnished gold.

  But it was the ears that gave her away.

  Long. Pointed. Elegant.

  The Ageless, the humans called her kind.

  A mistake.

  They aged—just slowly enough to make the difference feel like eternity.

  Cel took a deep breath, the air of the city sharp with the scent of dust, coal, and too many people. She had nearly gotten lost trying to find the adventurer guild hall. It hadn’t been here the last time she came to the capital. The old one had been on a hillside. Now, the city swallowed that hill entirely.

  Humans changed things very quickly. That was their nature.

  She remembered when they were still splintered into tribes, busy murdering each other over some rivers and trees. In some ways, nothing had changed. The wars were bigger. But the core remained the same.

  Still, every few centuries, it was required. Her kind would descend from their hidden enclaves to walk among humans—observe their progress, remind them the Ageless still watched from afar. Not a threat but an ally against monsters. Against them.

  Once, they had tried choosing sides. That had gone poorly.

  So they founded something better: a guild. Independent. Monster-focused. Neutral.

  At least, that had been the intent.

  Now it was mostly run by humans. Bureaucrats with badges.

  Cel didn’t care.

  She hadn’t ranked up in two hundred years, and she saw no reason to. Her last rank test put her at mid-silver. Good enough. She didn’t fight for prestige. She didn’t fight unless she had to.

  But this letter—this summons—was a perfect opportunity.

  Every silver-ranked adventurer had received it. A request to assist a group of students on a northern expedition. An escort mission, but more than that—a glimpse at the next generation of fighters, mages, and possibly threats. She wasn’t curious. It wasn’t their nature. But it was perfect for her once in a century mission. Then she would enjoy and relax again for the next hundred years.

  Cel had accepted. One simple task. One more century of peace afterward.

  The guard posted at the guild entrance spotted her eyes widened in surprise, stiffened, then bowed low as he saw her face.

  “Please,” he said, voice formal, “come in.”

  Cel stepped past him and walked into the hall without a word.