After attending History, Art, and Geography, Kana made her way to the training grounds for Dagger Mastery I. Coincidentally, today’s Geography class had focused heavily on the northern regions—the treacherous hills, avalanche-prone zones, and the types of monsters that lurked beyond the northern fortress.
Kana had become something of a celebrity. Her classmates swarmed her, hoping to be recruited into her group for the North subject. She politely refused each one—her team was already full. What she truly needed was a support-type healer. The only person she knew who fit the role was Elle York, the student council president—but she was a third-year student.
[High Awareness] picked up something. Someone was watching her from a distance.
Oh. It stopped. Is it one of the professors?
Professor Dufer arrived earlier than usual, his sharp eyes scanning the students. “Continue your training. Kana, follow me.”
He led her a few paces away from the others—not too far, but enough for privacy.
“How’s your condition?” he asked.
“I’m good now. The headache’s gone,” Kana replied.
Professor Dufer gave a short nod. “Good. To master it, start with the stretching exercises for this week. Then move on to the footwork next week. Follow the instructions from the Source.”
The Source—[Bolt Dagger Style]. The skill was unlike any other she had received from the system. Instead of a simple boost or enhancement, it came with a flood of detailed knowledge, like a manual imprinted into her mind.
The stretching routines were surprisingly intense, especially for anyone without high flexibility. Thankfully, her stats made it manageable. She followed the sequence: head to knees, palms to toes, a one-hand stand, and more—each movement exact, each position held with precision. Half a minute. Then a minute. Then five.
Every task was demanding. It didn’t just test her agility—it measured her focus, discipline, and pain tolerance.
Professor Dufer observed silently for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded in approval and returned to supervise the rest of the class.
Kana continued on her own, repeating the routine, her mind focused entirely. For the next two hours, she trained in solitude, every motion sharpening her foundation.
[Bolt Dagger Style][Progress: 2.53%]
..
Boris had never sparred in the Academy. The last time he did, it was against Kana—and he’d lost badly. That defeat stuck with him. Since then, he had kept a low profile, just as they had planned. That’s why he was confused when, suddenly, his classmates from Spear Mastery I gathered around him.
They wanted him. To join their group for the North subject.
It caught him off guard. The attention felt… nice. Encouraging, even. But he still shook his head and politely declined.
“Ha!”
The shout rang out as every student in Spear Mastery I slashed their spears in unison, executing a clean horizontal cut.
Professor Fin paced around them, his sharp eyes catching every detail. Now and then, he would stop to correct a stance or adjust a grip but never to Boris.
Boris tightened his grip on the spear, the wooden shaft rough against his calloused palms. He moved with the class, mimicking the horizontal slash, but his mind drifted elsewhere.
Why now? he wondered. Why are they suddenly interested in me?
He knew the answer, deep down. Whispers were spreading—about Kana, about Suri, about Adam and, by extension, about him. The rumors that they weren’t meant to be in the Copper class at all.
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We tried so hard to stay under the radar.
He could almost hear Kana’s voice in his head: Don’t draw attention.
And yet here he was. Being noticed. Ironically, especially her.
I didn’t even show anything impressive…
He glanced sideways. A few students were watching him, still hopeful he might change his mind. One of them even gave him a nod of respect. Boris looked away.
He slammed the butt of his spear on the ground in rhythm with the class, exhaling deeply. Focus Boris.
….
Unlike Kana and Boris, no one even considered recruiting Suri.
She understood why. Most of them thought her class was for art—like painting or sculpting—and not something that belonged on the battlefield. No one knew what her illusions were truly capable of, and she had no intention of correcting their assumptions.
She remembered Kana’s list. Scout, it said beside her name. A role that sounded accurate enough, but not well enough. Suri was fine with that. The less they understood her class, the better.
Still, the chaos Wor-en warned about was already in full swing. The corridors had turned into an auction house—students scanning profiles, forming temporary alliances, begging for anyone who had a hint of a healing skill. She spotted two second-years whispering with a first-year [Cleric] class, clearly hoping to bypass the restrictions.
Suri yawned. Rin beside her was too engrossed in the Forms of Mana I lecture to care about the mess.
Her mind wandered to the group’s current problem: they didn’t have a dedicated support class.
Or worse… Would her class be considered support, too?
Suri smirked. The air prickled—not with heat, but with eyes. Glares. Loathing wrapped in silk ribbons and soft perfume. Girls, dozens of them, dressed in neat uniforms and tighter expressions, followed her with narrowed gazes.
She didn’t flinch. Not anymore.
This was one of the two classes she was assigned to—both brimming with girls, and both strangely hostile. She’d stopped trying to count how many glances flicked toward her like thrown knives. Or how often their whispers turned to silence the moment she stepped near.
What is it this time? she wondered. She hadn’t insulted anyone. Hadn’t broken any unspoken rule, at least not that she could tell.
She’d tried to find out. She’d sent her illusions—light refracted into shadows, silent and unseen—into corners and between desks, listening. Watching. But every time, she just couldn’t find out the reason for hate.
A mystery unsolved. And not a priority. Not now.
There was a shadow man to deal with—real danger, real knives. Not the kind thrown with eyes and smiles.
She smirked again, this time to herself, and took her seat without a word.
Let them glare.
She had bigger threats to face.
….
Roa had been standing in the field since dawn.
She knew the academy had some form of barrier protection, so she bypassed it the old-fashioned way—through a secret passage she’d scouted days ago. Her [Camouflage] skill was active the entire time, masking her presence.
But even with stealth, mana had its limits. So she took short breaks, crouched low in shadowed corners, making sure the area was clear to whoever was trying to watch her with her [Omni Eyes] then letting her mana recover while remaining hidden in plain sight.
Finding them wasn’t easy. The list she was given had vague details—generic notes like brown eyes or black hair. Heights were listed, but those could change fast especially with their age. No guarantees there.
What helped most were their classes. That narrowed things down. A lot.
She had already crossed off a few—students from damage-type magic classes. One copper class student, a [Ranger], had piqued her interest earlier, but the more she watched, the more she realized: not the target. Probably closer to [Scout] or [Rogue], like her. Not a mana-based class.
With a quiet exhale, she drew a line through that name.
Then she noticed it.
Something had shifted in the air. Students were restless, moving around, recruiting, forming groups—like some sort of controlled chaos. Everyone was on edge. That wasn’t helpful for her mission. It disrupted patterns. Changed behaviors. Made it harder to identify.
She clicked her tongue softly.
Eyes back on the field, she focused on her next potential target. A fourth-year. Class: [Esper]. Now that one was interesting. Vague magic type. Even more suspicious—the second skill wasn’t listed. Which meant it was intentionally hidden by the principal. That usually only happened for one reason: the skill was too controversial… or dangerous.
Her interest sharpened.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
