The market was louder than usual that weekend, thick with the scent of sizzling oil, wet canvas, and too many people pressed shoulder to shoulder. Stalls formed in different colors—meats strung like trophies, crates of vials glowing faintly, and enchanted items or loot.

  Kana moved like a shadow through it all, Boris always bumping into people. “We need a protective vest,” she muttered, pausing at a stall of enchanted clothing. “Something that can help us block those sharp claws or the axe.”

  “Also we need a full meal,” Suri said from behind, her attention completely elsewhere. She had stopped at a sizzling spit of something coiled—too long, too flexible to be pig or beef. The vendor grinned at her.

  “Is that a snake?” Boris said, raising an eyebrow.

  Suri bit into it anyway, chewed once, then grinned. “Tastes like spicy dried bison meat.”

  They gathered supplies throughout the day—binding wraps, sharpened the edge of their blades, a smoke bomb or two that the vendor swore wouldn’t explode too early. Boris failed to haggle, Kana calculated, and Suri complimented the seller merchant that somehow made it lower the price.

  By sundown, their coin purses were lighter. The quiet of the evening found them walking side by side, silent for once.

  Then Monday arrived without ceremony, dragging them back to the academy and attending their own must attend classes once a week.

  Kana sat at her desk, very attentive with every lecture. Boris was trying hard to be conscious and every class. And Suri… Suri was balancing a textbook on one knee while secretly creating a new recipe for different types of foods while glancing from time to time to Andal who had no idea.

  ….

  It was the second day of the week, morning sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of the copper class classroom, warming the scratched desks. The room was full of chatting students, pages flipping, and the occasional muffled laugh. A few students were pretending to read.

  Wor-en stepped through the doorway without warning, clutching a small stack of parchment. He looked tired—or maybe just determined to avoid someone more exhausting than paperwork but he preferred to be in the copper class on that day.

  “I sometimes envy how relaxed copper class students are,” he said dryly, surveying the room.

  No one responded. One student yawned in reply. Another turned the page of a book, an entertainment type of book.

  Wor-en exhaled, defeated but unsurprised. He moved to the corner desk as he worked with his administrator tasks.

  Then Suri and Rin approached, stepping in sync with an odd seriousness.

  “We’d like to take the Forms of Mana class,” Rin said, sliding a parchment across the desk.

  Wor-en blinked at them. “It’s a bit late for enrollment. Unless, of course, you’ve already bribed—er, spoken to—Professor Terry.”

  Suri smiled. “We did. He approved us yesterday.”

  Wor-en gave a short nod. “Alright. I’ll file it.” He raised his voice, loud enough to hear even the students seated on the farthest side of the room. “I hope we have more students here with a shred of interest in expanding their skill sets.”

  Still, no one looked up. One student was asleep, snoring. Another was playing cards. Only Kana was paying attention.

  Suri taking another class made sense and did not matter to Kana. It was after all to help Rin and maybe learn more about mana itself as they discussed last night in their dormitory.

  A thought came up, Kana had a goosebump. Boris taking another class? That could be an entirely different matter.

  ..

  The night of their rematch came. Lanterns burned low in the dorm windows, the laughter and bustle of the day long faded. Most students slept. Suri casted her skill [Doppelganger] flickered into being: a shadow-form shaped like them. It stepped out without hesitation and slipped into their dorm.

  The trio moved through the hallways with extra caution, their cloak drawn tight. Then they went through the secret passage of the academy. The second year who went patrol a few minutes ago went to the other part of the academy. They either didn’t know the secret passage or turned a blind eye to it.

  They emerged into the edge of the outside academy grounds and scaled the low wall behind the shed—an easy route known only to a few reckless students.

  They arrived in the underground district a few moments later. The crooked alley smelled of damp wood, fried oil and strong scent of ale. As they entered the inn, a man with a big arm smiled, expecting them.

  “Right on time,” Rum said. “You all ready for your dungeon raid?”

  Kana adjusted the cloth over her face, her eyes narrowing. “Are they here?”

  Rum jerked a thumb toward the back door of the inn. “Waiting inside. Six of them. Fit your request—low mid and mid-level dungeon raid experience. I vouch for their skills.”

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The door creaked open behind him, and one by one, the mercenaries stepped into the lamplight.

  First was a wiry man with darting eyes and a grin too fast to trust. A half-dozen daggers clinked at his hips. “Class: [Thief]. Skills: [Dagger Mastery] and [Trap Detection].” He held up nimble fingers. “No trap’s ever taken me by surprise. Don’t need to worry about ‘em.”

  He’s out.

  Second came a man with dark hair cut short, sharp eyes fixed on Kana with a quiet challenge. Two one handed swords rested on his back. “Class is [Swordsman]. Skills are: [Sword Strike], [Dual Wielder]. I deal more damage compared to most of the [Swordsman] class.”

  The third was calmer, reserved. He wore clean leathers and a curved sabre, posture upright like a duelist from a noble private school, “Class is [Fencer],” he said simply. “Skills are [Leap], [Dash]. Fast on my feet. I won’t block a boss swing, but I can avoid it.”

  Kana took a mental note. A [Fencer] class. Not a shield-bearer, but quick on his feet. If it came to it, he could tank—not by absorbing hits, but dodging it instead.

  Kana’s eyes flicked to the fourth—a bowman, quiver strapped tight, bow slung across his shoulder like it was part of his body. “[Bowman]. Skills are [Marksmanship], [Eagle Eyes]. Range damage dealer, sharp sight. I see things coming before most feel the wind shift.”

  Fifth was bulkier. A mace rested beside his hip, shield strapped to his arm. His presence was grounding, like standing next to a wall that could swing back.

  “Class is [Paladin]. Skills are [Weaken], [Divine Protection]. I take hits. I also make sure you get extra protection.”

  Kana noted that one carefully. Tank. Possibly their anchor. With some buffs! What are buffs anyway?

  The final candidate stepped forward last, still hooded. Her voice was clear, calm, and unmistakably female.

  “I’m a [Mage]. Skills are [Ice Wall], [Ice Shard]. Variant of Ice Element. I work best with him—” she pointed out to the [Paladin] “—he’s my husband.”

  Boris and Suri exchanged a glance, but said nothing. They had their own preferences, sure—but Kana was their leader for a reason. When it came to dungeons, no one had more knowledge than hers or at least from their group.

  “We’ll take the [Paladin] and the [Mage],” Kana said after a pause.

  Rum clapped once. “Alright then. Thanks to the rest of you.” The dismissed dungeon scrappers filed out without complaint—used to the picking and passing of freelance work.

  The woman lowered her hood. Short brown hair framed her fair-skinned face. She looked to be in her mid-thirties.

  “I’m Asha,” she said, then patted the shoulder of the man beside her. “This is Opel. Thanks for choosing us.”

  Opel grinned. Taller than Boris by a handspan, he had the build of someone who treated battle like breakfast.

  “I’m Kana—” Kana began, but Asha held up her hand.

  “No need. The less we know, the better. Right?”

  Kana blinked, then gave a faint nod. “Right. That was my mistake. Forget I said anything.”

  “We already did.” Asha smiled.

  Rum cleared his throat to get their attention, “By the terms of the client's agreement: you don’t speak of the client, the team, or their skills. You will not abandon them unless they call for retreat, or unless the situation leaves no other choice which is subject to investigation. Payment: half will be paid on completion.”

  Asha and Opel answered in unison, “Agreed.”

  …

  Von slipped through the academy’s defenses with ease. The information he’d purchased had proven accurate—worth every silver coin. One of the students had sold him the route: a forgotten passage beneath a ruined structure near one of its buildings. As for the targets? The noble client had handed him every detail, down to the layout of their rooms and the time they usually fell asleep. No need for the usual weeks or months of observation.

  He grinned beneath his mask. The thrill of the hunt thrummed in his chest like a second heartbeat. Most contracts required patience. But not this one. This one was a gift. The kind he could savor.

  Von scaled the outer wall of the boys’ dormitory, his black-fitted cloak blending into the stone along with his skill [Shadow Form] which made detecting him become almost impossible. The tool he designed himself made no sound as he slid one into the window’s lock, coaxing it open with ease. A breeze whispered past him as he entered.

  He moved to the bed—the one his target should be sleeping in. A large figure lay beneath the blanket. Broad-shouldered. The first target. On the other side of the bed. Strange. No one was sleeping.

  Von smiled, poison already coating the edge of his dagger. Just to be sure, he activated his skill: [Weakness].

  Light flared.

  His smile vanished.

  Every part of the body lit up. Head to toe. Impossible. No human had that many vital points. The skill wasn’t identifying weaknesses. It was reacting to something else.

  A decoy.

  His instincts surged—wrong, wrong, wrong.

  There was no excitement this time as he looked at the target.

  Skill-based fake human? Had they been tipped off?

  To be certain, he made his way to the girls’ dormitory. Different room. Same setup. Same figure.

  Another fakes.

  They'd known what was coming.

  Von’s lips pulled tight beneath the cloth of his mask..

  Time to disappear.

  Find the real ones. It happened many times before—his target was aware of possible assasination but it didn't matter. At least to him. Royalty. Nobles or Not.