It looked odd—a man of his size, broad-shouldered and scarred by battle, hunched over a desk with a quill, holding it delicately. Ink-stained fingers scratched across parchment.

  Just a year ago, his days were filled with nothing but blood and steel. He wasn't some foot soldier—he had led a platoon on the frontlines, defending the fortress in the north against the relentless Dungeon Overflow. Day after day, they fought back the endless tide. Slay one wave, and another emerged. Clear a dungeon, and another would appear in its place, as if summoned deliberately.

  It had been like that since he was a kid and had been happening for nearly a century. Maybe more.

  And while the monsters grew tougher, the northern soldiers did not. Strongest veterans aged. Promising new recruits died before their second winter. The few who survived grew bitter, hard. Every year, more families had abandoned the region, some were even reported fleeing to foreign kingdoms.

  The rest of the kingdom? Ignorant.

  They still believed in the legend—that the northern troops were unshakable, that their iron resolve and legends would hold the fortress for centuries to come.

  They were wrong.

  It was far from the truth. The northern wall was on the verge of collapse—not yet but soon.

  King J, to his credit, understood the weight of what was coming. A directive had been issued. Groom and gather the most gifted individuals. Bring them to the north.

  The general had handed the task directly to him—and to another.

  There was no better place to find talent than the Academy. That much was clear. But finding gifted students was the easy part. Convincing them? That was the true challenge. Why would a student with a bright future—willingly march to a place where all those things would be buried beneath snow and dungeon monsters?

  He had asked himself that same question. Again and again.

  And every time, he returned to the same answer.

  So, he wrote an academy new program proposal.

  And half a year later of working, the proposal—the only plan he believed might work—was almost complete.

  A knock broke the silence.

  Professor Fin paused mid-stroke, the quill hovering above parchment. His voice came out low and gravelly. “Come in.”

  The door opened without hesitation.

  “Professor Fin,” Wor-en said with a familiar smirk as he stepped in. “Didn’t expect to be invited into your exclusive room. I thought this place was off-limits to mere mortals.”

  Fin didn’t smile. “There’s nothing entertaining here.”

  Wor-en’s eyes flicked across the room—bare walls, sparse furnishings, and shelves lined with scrolls that looked more like battlefield logs than academic texts. With a forced laugh he said, “I see what you mean.”

  Fin picked up a stack of parchments and handed them over. “I heard you've had success with several program proposals. This is mine. I want you to take a look. Tell me if it’s feasible.”

  Wor-en sat, eyes narrowing slightly as he skimmed the top page. His brow furrowed as he read deeper, fingers slowly rubbing at his chin. He flipped to the next, and the next, reading in silence.

  When he finally looked up, his voice was quieter. “It’s a strong proposal. Ambitious. But there’s no real incentive here—nothing that would convince the nobles or even the principal. It's too risky to be worth it.”

  Fin inhaled sharply and held it for a moment. “No incentive but meaning. To show them the truth.”

  He looked away, blinking once, then again. “ Show the students. The nobles. The people. What’s really happening at the northern fortress.”

  Wor-en sat back, the gravity of Fin’s words pulling him into silence.

  “I’ve heard rumors,” he said after a pause, realizing the seriousness of the situation. “But I didn't realize it was this bad. Your transfer here a year ago... I thought you just retired from command.”

  Fin shook his head. “I was sent. To prepare.”

  There was weight in his voice—more than duty.

  Wor-en looked down at the parchment again, this time not as an academic but him as a person. As an experienced adventurer. As someone who had seen too much himself. He understood now—what Fin wanted. What he was asking.

  And so, until the sun began to rise, the two sat in discussion—reworking the proposal. Adding what needed to be added. Softening what would alarm the nobles. Strengthening what might persuade the king.

  A soldier’s last gamble, disguised as a school program.

  …….

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The trio walked briskly through the streets toward Stark’s mansion. Excitement buzzed between them—particularly from Suri and Boris, who grinned ear to ear at the thought of sampling another round of extravagant food. Kana, on the other hand, had her nose buried in a thick book on land acquisition, flipping pages with focused intensity.

  “You know,” Suri said, slowing her steps slightly, “I get that you’re excited about your little project. But you do realize maintaining it will drain us dry in a few months or years, right?”

  Kana didn’t look up. “I’m aware.”

  Boris tilted his head. “What about the other thief bases? They still have coins stashed. Right?.”

  Suri shook her head. “Problem is, security’s tight because there are enchanted items mixed with it. Tighter than the merchant vault. One wrong move, and we’re back to square one—or dead.”

  “We’ll think of something,” Kana murmured, turning a page. “Any ideas?”

  “We could sign up as Dungeon Scrappers,” Boris offered. “Earn coin, get stronger. Two birds, one spear.”

  Kana swayed her head. “They won’t let a bunch of kids join as a Dungeon Scrapper.”

  “Unless...” Suri’s eyes gleamed. “Someone vouched for us. Ashen and Opel, maybe?”

  “You think they’d do it?” Boris asked, full of doubt.

  “We’re kind of underground-famous,” Suri said proudly. “The five who cleared a low mid-level dungeon with zero casualties. Word travels.”

  Kana closed her book with a sigh. “They’re prepping for the guild exam. They’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

  “And people are starting to recognize our faces more,” Boris added. “Attention we don’t need.”

  Suri groaned. “You two lack creativity.”

  She paused dramatically. “Picture this, the same five who cleared that dungeon—forming a team. We offer our services for hire. As Dungeon Scrappers. For a coin. If we keep it low-key, under a different name, and put a special mask to hide our faces, we might actually make enough to keep Kana’s little project keep going.”

  Kana eyed her suspiciously. “And the part where we convince Ashen and Opel to join?”

  Suri flashed a grin that meant trouble. “A little blackmail should do the trick.”

  Boris and Kana exchanged glances.

  Suri’s grin widened.

  She had already cast her illusion days ago—latching onto them like silent shadows. Watching. Listening.

  ….

  The trio stopped as Leo waved from across the path, making his way toward them.

  “My father has guests,” he explained, motioning toward a side path. “We’ll be using a smaller house in the backyard today.”

  They followed him around the side of the estate, but small was a stretch. The structure was still a two-story stone house—elegant and well-built, with wide windows and a high arched ceiling.

  “I don’t think this qualifies as small,” Boris muttered as he stepped inside, gazing upward.

  “You’re early,” Leo said with a smile. “The land specialist will arrive shortly. For now, shall we eat?”

  “I’m not here for the land,” Boris said, grinning. “I’m here for that.” He pointed to the large dining table now being filled with silver trays.

  “Same,” Suri added, eyes already tracking a roasted leg of meat.

  Leo snapped his fingers, and servants glided into the room, setting out dish after dish—steamed fish, honeyed root vegetables, roasted meat laced with herbs, and a thick stew that made the air smell like home and heaven. Kana gave her two friends a sideways glance as they visibly fought off drool.

  She sighed. “Embarrassing.”

  Leo chuckled. “I’ve been curious about something,” he said, pouring himself tea. “We see each other often in Physical Enhancement I. I heard from the professor that you three currently hold the highest performance scores—even though two of you enrolled late. How do you manage that? You never seem tired.”

  All three nearly choked on their food.

  “Village training,” Boris came up with a lie quickly, flexing an arm. “Rough ground, lots of running. Hard work builds biceps.”

  Leo raised a brow. He could almost picture it: mud plains, uneven fields, long sprints in the rain. It made sense, in a way. But of course, he was aware. Of their rapid progress according to his father.

  After lunch, Boris and Suri wandered upstairs to explore while Kana remained, seated neatly across from Leo. A man soon entered—short, round-bellied, likely in his fifties, with ink-stained fingers and a ledger tucked under one arm.

  “Good day, Young Master Leo. And Kana?.” He bowed politely. “I’m Todd, a licensed land broker. Here to help however I can.”

  He settled across from Kana, unrolling parchment and readying his quill.

  “Let’s begin,” he said. “First, what type of property are we discussing? Residential or commercial? And how large a space are you envisioning? Number of residents?”

  Kana leaned forward slightly, “Residential. A large home. Big enough to house a hundred children comfortably—with room to spare. I’d like a large backyard as well where they can play or run around.”

  Leo’s eyes widened. “Kana, don’t tell me you’re—”

  “I am,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m founding an orphanage.”

  Todd paused mid-scribble, lifting his head. “That... changes a few things.” He nodded slowly. “A registered orphanage receives discounted rates from the crown, and potential sponsorship from the Church. But make no mistake—even with those, this will be… expensive.”

  “That’s fine,” Kana said.

  “Location?”

  “Quiet. Preferably somewhere with space—far from slum and Butcher district”

  Todd scratched at his chin. “There’s land in the lower west section of the capital. Plains. They’re not usually for sale, but exceptions can be made for charitable institutions. I’ll check.”

  “And the house?” he continued. “With your requirements, we’ll need to build from the ground up. Custom architecture. That will increase the cost significantly.”

  Kana didn’t flinch. “You may proceed. With or without sponsorship.”

  Leo frowned slightly. He knew enough—nobles were raised on estate politics and property law. This kind of project would cost a fortune. Where was Kana getting that kind of coin?

  Still, the meeting wrapped up cleanly. Todd promised updates, though he wouldn’t be able to contact Kana directly due to Academy restrictions. All communications would go through Leo.

  Just a bit busy this week( I will correct the corrections probably on weekends)

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