It was the weekend when a familiar knock interrupted Dufer's training at the Bane estate.

  A butler approached with a bow. “Professor Wor-en has arrived, sir.”

  Dufer blinked, surprised. Wor-en? He hadn’t expected a visit—not today.

  He met him at the courtyard, wiping sweat from his brow. “What can I do for you, Wor-en?” he said with a chuckle. “I hope this isn’t like last time. I’m not ready to get scolded by another angry wife over her missing husband.”

  Wor-en laughed, unbothered. “Don’t worry. This one’s about a student.”

  “A student?” Dufer raised a brow. “When did you start taking work outside the academy?”

  Wor-en smirked. “Come on, let’s talk in your study.”

  They made their way to the quiet room overlooking the back garden. Dufer’s butler served tea, and Wor-en took a seat like he owned the place—he always did that.

  “So,” Wor-en said, leaning back. “Remember when I told you about those promising students from the Copper Class?”

  Dufer narrowed his eyes, trying to recall. “A bit? You know I don’t pay much attention to Copper students.”

  “You should.” Wor-en’s tone sharpened with interest. “I managed to convince a few of them to enroll in extra classes. One of them joined yours. Her name’s Kana.”

  “Her?” Dufer repeated, pausing mid-sip.

  It wasn’t sexism—just statistics. In his experience, even with the same class and training, the male students tended to develop faster in raw physical performance. It was just the way things had been. So he kept his expectations grounded.

  Still, Wor-en rarely gets excited like this.

  “She’s something else,” Wor-en said, grinning. “She’ll exceed your expectations.”

  Dufer didn’t answer immediately. He simply nodded and looked out the window, thoughtful.

  Wor-en knew what this meant to him.

  It was never about the academy salary. The Bane family was wealthy—always had been. What Dufer cared about was legacy. Passing on the Bane dagger arts, a tradition woven into his bloodline. But his only child was a [Mage]—brilliant, yes, but couldn’t even hold a dagger without fumbling it.

  So he turned to the academy.

  He had trained dozens of students. A few showed promise. One had gotten close—60% execution of the full Bane form. But none had truly mastered it.

  Maybe they hadn’t started early enough. Maybe it was just fate.

  But he kept looking.

  And now, apparently, a girl from the Copper Class had impressed Wor-en enough to warrant a personal visit.

  Dufer’s fingers tapped once against the teacup.

  “…We’ll see.”

  …..

  The trio stayed on high alert through the weekend, but there were no signs of the shadow man. Suri had even expanded her network of illusion rats, scattering new scouts around the academy’s perimeter—yet still, nothing. No trace or presence of him.

  It was the first day of the week, and the day they preferred to attend every class.

  After finishing the morning trio—History, Art, and Geography—Boris and Kana split off to attend their respective battle-focused classes. Suri had already left earlier with Rin, heading to Mana Forms I.

  Kana’s destination wasn’t a classroom, but a section of the academy's training grounds.

  She arrived to find about a dozen students already warming up. Each wore light, fitted armor—just like her. Her own gear had been patched, reinforced, and worn down from real experience. It wasn’t flashy, but it protected what mattered.

  At the edge of the field stood a tall man in light leather armor, the kind typically worn by members of the [Thief] class. His blonde hair was trimmed short, his face clean-shaven and sharp, with high cheekbones and a weathered look of someone who’d seen real combat.

  Kana approached him.

  “I’m Kana, [Ranger], copper class.” she said. “First day here.”

  “I know, Wor-en told me everything.” he replied, glancing at her up and down. His eyes lingered briefly on her armor, nodding once in approval. “Nice set. Vital areas protected. Used, too. That’s good.”

  He introduced himself. “Dufer Bane. [Rogue] class. Instructor for Dagger Mastery I and II.”

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  Then, with a fluid turn, he faced the gathered students and clapped his hands once, sharp and commanding.

  “Alright, listen up! We’ve got a newcomer. Time to test her out. I want you all to give it everything you’ve got.”

  Kana felt the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Dozens of eyes turned toward her—some curious, others amused, and a few… eager.

  Perfect, she thought. Time to test out her newly learned dagger moves from the shadow man.

  ……

  Kana reminded herself: Don’t stand out. Not too much, anyway. Drawing attention wasn’t wise—especially not now, not with unknown enemies possibly watching.

  The first student stepped forward. A boy around her height, lanky, with sharp eyes and quiet steps.

  “Gord, [Scout] class,” he said.

  [Camouflage]

  In an instant, he vanished. His skin, clothes—everything—blended seamlessly with the environment. His outline rippled faintly, like a mirage adjusting to movement. The camouflage wasn’t perfect, but it was good.

  To most.

  Too bad for him, Kana thought.

  She closed her eyes for half a second, letting her [High Awareness] take over. The faint scrape of boots against the dirt. The quick, shallow breaths. She didn’t need her eyes to follow him.

  Gord struck from the side, a quick slash. Kana blocked it cleanly with barely a twist of her wrist. The moment her blade connected with his, the illusion faltered. The camouflage flickered, then vanished completely as if there were conditions to activate it.

  Gord stepped back, frustration plain on his face. He’d expected to land his first strike. He lunged again, this time with a flurry of precise dagger strikes—fast, calculated.

  Kana didn’t budge.

  She met each slash calmly, her dagger flashing in controlled, minimal movements. She didn’t even take a step back.

  Then she closed her eyes—again—not out of arrogance, but intent.

  She pictured him. The shadow man. His merciless style. His strikes weren't meant to hit—they were meant to move you, to corner you, to leave you open.

  Gord wasn't even close to that level.

  So she adapted.

  She slowed her pace, adjusted her tempo to match Gord’s. Let him see her strikes. A low slash. Then high. A sweep from the side. Then—she shifted—

  —a dagger thrust aimed at his blind spot.

  It would’ve ended the match.

  But she stopped short, pulling her blade back at the last second. It was so fast, no one should’ve noticed.

  Unless...

  “Stop!”

  The command rang out like a whip.

  Dufer’s voice.

  Both students froze.

  The instructor strode over—not to Kana, but to Gord first. His tone was calm but firm.

  “You know what happened, don’t you?”

  Gord clenched his jaw, his face reddening. He gave a stiff nod but said nothing. Embarrassment, maybe. Frustration.

  Dufer turned to the rest of the class. “Everyone—continue your drills from last session. That will be enough to demonstrate her skill.”

  Then he looked at Kana.

  “Kana. With me.”

  ……

  Dufer led Kana to the far side of the training grounds, where no students lingered. The shade of the nearby trees muffled the sounds of clashing steel behind them. Here, they could speak without ears nearby.

  “Wor-en was right,” Dufer said, folding his arms. “You really are a generational talent.”

  Then his tone shifted, growing sharp. “But where did you learn that last move? The final strike you pulled?”

  Kana hesitated. I messed up, she thought. She hadn’t even meant to imitate the shadow man so precisely—it had just happened.

  “I saw someone do it,” she said carefully. “I tried to copy it.”

  Dufer nodded slowly. “Thought so.”

  He pointed at the dirt where the sparring happened. “Look at your footprint.”

  Kana glanced.

  “See that? It's forced. Off balance. That strike wasn’t natural for you. Daggers aren’t meant to be used that way unless your body’s trained for it. Your legs, especially your lower body, will suffer for it. Too much strain.”

  Kana exhaled—just a little. So he noticed the move—but not who it came from. Good. For a moment, she’d wondered if he was connected to the shadow man somehow.

  “What should I do, then?” she asked.

  Dufer let out a short sigh. “No one’s taught you how to use a dagger properly, huh?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He continued, “Simple. Ask the guy you copied it from.”

  Kana forced a tight smile. Yeah, right. She couldn't even imagine the shadow man speaking, let alone giving lessons.

  “Don’t know who he is,” she said. “Don’t know where to find him either.”

  Dufer studied her for a long moment, then nodded.

  “In that case, I’ll teach you my style,” he said. “What you copied? That’s made for long, drawn-out fights. The guy you saw must’ve had crazy stamina. Or was using something else—like poison—to wear his opponent down.”

  He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “But me? My dagger arts are different.”

  He stepped back, hand resting casually on the hilt of his blade.

  “I rely on speed. Striking so fast your opponent doesn’t get the chance to react.”

  “And don’t do that again,” Dufer said firmly, his gaze flicking toward Gord, who sat on the bench, face still flushed with frustration and embarrassment. “Even if it’s just sparring, you don’t hold back like that. They’re giving it everything they’ve got. Respect that. Defeat them cleanly—but don’t toy with their resolve.”

  Kana followed his gaze, her eyes landing on Gord. His fists were clenched on his knees, staring down at the ground.

  “I… didn’t mean to,” she said quietly.

  Dufer smiled. “Don’t tell me. Tell him.”