Suri exhaled sharply as they stepped back onto academy grounds, the looming towers and banners catching the weak winter sun. The cold stone walls should have felt safe, but after the scarecrow’s sudden attack, the silence weighed on her chest like a warning.

  “That was…”, Boris muttered, his heavy boots striking louder than usual on the flagstones. “Thing just vanished.”

  Suri’s brow tightened. “Not just vanished.” She shook her head, strands of red hair falling into her eyes. “We’ve got another problem.”

  Kana frowned. “Another?”

  “Yes.” Suri crossed her arms. “After the awarding, we have even more haters. Valdis was invited into some kind of… group. Anonymous students gathering in secret. And they all agree on one thing: they want us gone.” Her voice dropped lower, colder. “Dead might not be too much of an exaggeration.”

  Boris stopped mid-step. “That brat again.” He spat the words, fists clenching. “So the scarecrow attacked… it was probably one of them?”

  Suri gave a humorless chuckle. “Great. More enemies. They could come at us anytime, anywhere… I don’t think I can keep track of them all anymore. Too many faces to remember.”

  The three fell quiet, the sound of other students’ chatter drifting across the courtyard.

  Finally, Kana broke it. “Then we stick together. Especially outside the academy.” She glanced at the towers around them, firm in her conviction. “Here, they won’t dare. The rules would crush them. But out there… they’ll try again.”

  Kana’s hand brushed her dagger at her side, fingers tapping the hilt in rhythm with her thoughts. “I’ll start investigating. Someone had to summon that scarecrow. Someone with a skill like Suri’s. I’ll find them. And then…” her eyes hardened, “we’ll have words.”

  “I’ll help,” Boris said suddenly, his voice sharp. “I’ll ask my roommate. Privately. I’d bet half my rations he’s part of that hater’s group.”

  Suri gave him a side glance. “You’re willing to risk that?”

  Boris grinned grimly. “If he is, I’d rather know before he sticks a scarecrow in my bed.”

  The three shared a look, the weight of unspoken truths pressing between them. For all the academy promised safety, they all knew it: the real danger was already inside.

  …..

  The academy dormitories were nearly silent at night. The halls were dark, save for a few lanterns left to burn low, their flames struggling against the cold draft slipping through the cracks. Outside, winter winds rattled the windows like long, bony fingers.

  Boris eased open his door. Inside, his noble roommate was wide awake. He sat at his desk, a candle burning low beside him, shadows crawling across his hooded eyes as he pretended to read.

  “You’re awake.” Boris’s voice cut through the stillness.

  He didn’t look up right away. “Some of us need to study. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Boris let the door shut with a click. He stood a moment, arms folded, watching. “Strange. Most students aren’t so lively after midnight. Unless they’ve got meetings to attend.”

  He paused, the page stopped turning. His fingers stilled.

  Boris stepped closer, his boots almost silent on the stone floor. “A scarecrow came after us tonight. Crafted. Controlled. Someone wanted us gone. Maybe even dead.”

  The noble head tilted slightly. The flickering candlelight sharpened the corner of his smile. “And yet… here you are. Still breathing.”

  Boris leaned closer, the firelight throwing his shadow across the desk. “Tell me... Do you sit in on those gatherings? Some ruined chapels somewhere? Do you nod along when they speak of commoners who don’t deserve their place?”

  For a long moment, silence stretched. Then the noble laughed—soft, low, a sound too sharp for comfort. “Maybe I’ve heard things. Maybe I’ve listened. You’d be surprised how many agree with us.”

  “Us.”, Boris repeated.

  The noble eyes narrowed. A mistake. He looked away, covering it with another chuckle. “You’re hearing what you want. Paranoia makes people blind.”

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  Boris didn’t move. He let the weight of silence linger until the noble moved uncomfortably in his chair. Then, cold as the frost outside, Boris said, “If you send another scarecrow after us… I’ll break more than its strings.”

  The candle guttered, throwing the room into wavering half-darkness. He didn’t answer this time. He didn’t need to. The noble had no idea some students had already made an action.

  ….

  It was early morning, the first day of the week. The training field should have been echoing with shouts and steel, but instead it was crowded and restless. Dozens of students stood shoulder to shoulder, stamping their boots against the frost-bitten ground, white puffs of breath rising like smoke from a field full of chimneys. The winter cold had bitten deep, and more than a few looked like they’d rather crawl back into warm beds than wait in the open air.

  “I’m still not seeing anyone. No carriage yet.” Adam, towering above most of the students, shaded his eyes with one massive hand. His voice rumbled with impatience. “Why are we still here?”

  “If we start late,” Toby muttered, his small frame lost in the crowd, “then we’ll finish late. And if we finish late, we'll be late in afternoon classes. And then we’re going to sleep late and rise very early in the morning.” He tried to peer through the forest of taller bodies, but even on tiptoes all he saw was cloth and robes.

  Suri and Rin grunted at the same time, a sound of equal annoyance and agreement.

  Adam squinted again, pointing across the field. “Wait. I see Professor Wor-en!”

  “Not just him,” Boris added, his height only second to Adam’s. “There’s… more with him. But they’re not wearing academy robes. Not professors.”

  That set the crowd murmuring. Even the sharper students stilled, trying to get a look.

  Wor-en’s strides carried him quickly to the waiting groups. Behind him, unique robed assistants and strangers followed, their garb mismatched—leathers, traveling cloaks, armor that caught the pale morning light. One man’s chestplate gleamed with inlaid crystal; another woman carried a tall staff that pulsed faintly as if alive.

  Wor-en raised his voice, firm and cutting through the winter air. “Because of the recent incident, the principal has chosen to take… precautions.”

  That single word sent a ripple through the crowd. Everyone knew what he meant. The recent attempt of the kidnapping attack was still too fresh in their mind to forget.

  “We have brought in individuals,” Wor-en continued, “With the ability to summon or control monsters. They will aid in today’s field exercises.”

  The murmurs became louder now, splitting into excited chatter and nervous whispers.

  “We’ll be using the training fields inside the academy,” Wor-en added, his tone sharper, silencing the noise. “You’ll follow my lead. Move out.”

  The relief was almost physical, running like a sigh through the students. No outside marches, no cold trek through the snow, no chance of being ambushed again.

  Yuri, standing beside Rin and Suri, exhaled audibly. She hugged her robes tighter, eyes flicking across the field. Her hand trembled before she clenched it into a fist. The memory of last week—the twisted people, the feeling of being watched—still clung like frost in her chest.

  She didn’t want to experience that again. Not now. Not ever.

  …..

  There were three of them—men hired from the Adventurers’ Guild. Their class was obvious. [Summoners]. At least for Kana.

  One stepped forward toward Kana’s group, lifting his hand. The ground split with a sudden shimmer of light, runes burning against the frost-hardened soil. With a roar, a beast materialized—a bear, taller than any man, fur bristling and fangs gleaming.

  But this time, the group did not flinch. They’d seen worse. They’d bled against worse. The memory of the kidnappers’ ambush was still sharp in their minds, and this summoned beast carried none of that same, suffocating danger.

  Leo and Adam surged to the front, shields braced. Leo in particular had grown sharper with every clash; his stance no longer wavered, his shield slammed into the beast with solid confidence. Beside him, Adam anchored the line, his massive frame holding the creature in place.

  Boris darted in at openings with his spear, quick and efficient. Each thrust struck low, seeking the softer points between the beast’s thick hide, forcing it to stagger. His style was controlled, practiced—a fighter who valued precision over brute strength.

  Andel fought beside him, but his weapon was harder to ignore—a modified lance. Longer than a spear, thicker than a pike, it had a reinforced shaft and a hooked side-blade near the base of the point. Each thrust wasn’t just a stab—it dragged, tore, and forced the enemy off-balance. The lance shot forward like lightning, piercing the beast’s hide before Andel twisted, the hooked edge ripping along its shoulder.

  Together, the two spear-wielders made a rhythm of attack. Boris pinned, Andel broke. The summoned bear roared, stumbling under the assault, opening a perfect line for the frontline to push harder.

  Kana drew her bow more than once, but each time lowered it again. They didn’t need her arrows—not when the frontline tore through the beast with such efficiency. Better to watch. Better to conserve her strength.

  Yuri’s voice lifted behind them, the effect of her [Enhance Speed] flowing across the group. Their movements quicker resulting in more damage—blades struck deeper, and every impact rattled with almost twice the strength.

  Andel, mid-thrust, threw a glance over his shoulder—at Kana. His grin flashed before he rammed the lance forward again, driving the beast back several paces. Kana wasn’t sure if he was showing off…

  The beast toppled at last, dissolving into fading light.

  The summoner frowned, then lifted his hand again. A second beast ripped through the rune-light, snarling. The group turned, unshaken. It died faster than the first.

  Roy muttered, frustrated, testing his skill. The summon’s essence slipped through his fingers—again. Whatever bound them wasn’t his to control. His [Raise Undead] wouldn’t activate.

  By the third beast, even the summoner seemed impressed. His mana reserves drained quickly, despite drinking temporary mana potion boost, and with a weary shrug he dismissed the spell. “Enough for today.”

  Wor-en, watching from the side with arms crossed, gave no words of praise. But the flicker in his eyes—surprise, then reluctant approval.