It was the first day of the week, and the north training field stirred like a hive long before dawn burned away the frost. Kana and Suri moved together through the swelling crowd, boots crunching against the hard-packed earth. There was something different in the air—different in the way people looked at them.

  Once, the copper class had been the academy’s bottom rung: whispered at, mocked, treated like they were something below them. But now… the sneers were gone. Heads nodded as they passed. Some even stepped aside to give them space. Kana felt the shift like a weight in her chest. Respect, however grudging, was far more dangerous than ridicule.

  Suri didn’t seem to notice—or maybe she just didn’t care. She leaned her head against Kana’s shoulder, eyes shut as if the morning sun was too early for her.

  “Kana, Suri!” Rin’s bright voice cut across the noise. She waved them over, Yuri standing beside her. Yuri seemed more at ease now, her posture a bit looser, looked comfortable around them.

  Boris, of course, was nowhere near them. Kana spotted him across the field, already locked in an arm-wrestling match with two other boys. He grunted, teeth bared in a grin, the kind of grin that invited either camaraderie or a fist to the jaw.

  Kana rolled her eyes. Early in the morning, and he’s already making a scene.

  But then she felt it—like pricks of ice along the back of her neck. Glares. Not one, but many. Students in other uniforms, their eyes tracking her with something sharp, almost hungry. She recognized that look: the look of someone who had decided you were in the way.

  Her stomach tightened. She exhaled slowly through her nose, muttering under her breath, “What should I do to teach them a lesson…”

  “Lesson?” Rin blinked, tilting her head, genuinely curious.

  Kana forced a small smile and said nothing. Killing them outright wasn’t an option. Even bruising them would leave marks that might circle back to her. Too many eyes, too many unpredictable skills in play.

  The professors arrived soon after, their presence dispersing the tension like wind breaking smoke. The summoners with them—once three, now four—brought forth their creatures, and the routine began. Groups of ten rotated through, each fighting wave after wave of beasts. The battle was cleaner now, faster, each team learning to move like parts of a whole. The morning bled away into sweat, shouts, and the crack of summoned claws against steel.

  By lunch, the cafeteria was buzzing with voices, the air rich with baked bread and stews thick enough to bite. Kana and Suri found a table near the corner, trays clattering down.

  Suri leaned close, her voice low, almost swallowed by the din. “Asha contacted me,” she whispered. “She got a quest for us. Dungeon Scrappers.”

  Kana froze, spoon hovering above her bowl.

  “It’s a mid-high level dungeon,” Suri went on, eyes glinting. “About fifty people are going. Thirty-five from the adventurer’s guild, the rest… Dungeon Scrappers like us.”

  “That sounds like a legitimate raid,” Kana said slowly. “So why drag in the Dungeon Scrappers?”

  “Asha told me about the budget issue,” Suri replied with a shrug, as if it were obvious.

  Kana frowned. Raids like this were dangerous, yes. But they were also opportunities. The surest way to grow stronger was to face what most people would flee from. A higher level dungeon.

  She tapped her spoon against the tray, thinking. “It will be a good experience for us. And we still have the [Teleportation] scroll if things go wrong.”

  Suri’s grin was quick and sharp. “Then it’s a go. First day of the weekend. Early morning. South.”

  Just then, Yuri and Rin slid in with their trays, eyes narrowing at the hushed tones.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Rin asked, leaning across the table. “Come on, let me in on the secret.”

  Suri didn’t miss a beat. “About the clothes last time…” she said brightly, stuffing a piece of bread in her mouth.

  Kana smirked despite herself. That was Suri for you.

  …..

  The underground district buzzed with life, warmer compared above. Lanterns hung from chains across low ceilings, their light caught in the haze of smoke rising from grills and steaming pots. Spices burned sharp in the nose, foreign and strange, mixed with the earthy damp that clung to the stone. Merchants barked from cramped stalls, eyeing things that didn’t belong on the surface—salt-dried lizards, mushrooms that pulsed faintly as if breathing, skewered fish whose eyes still glowed faint blue.

  Suri was already chewing on something that looked alarmingly alive when the others caught up to her.

  “We’re going to be late for tomorrow’s classes at this pace,” Boris muttered. His arms were crossed, jaw tight.

  Suri waved a skewer at him. “Relax. That's why we’re doing this.” She bit down, crunch echoing far louder than Kana thought it should.

  Kana sighed. It was a simple simulation, if they could still do a nightly raid from time to time during weekdays with classes ending up a bit late,“Should we drop out from the academy?”

  Boris snorted. “If you’re ready to be killed by our parents, then go ahead. I’ll watch. You can imagine my Da, right?”

  That earned a sharp giggle from Suri. She leaned in and pinched Kana’s cheek, fingers sticky with sauce. “Don’t be so impatient. We’re still young. You think the greats were forged in a single month?” She shoved the rest of her skewer into her mouth, talking around it. “We’re gold badge holders now. We’ll be someone great in the future.”

  Kana froze. She hadn’t expected that—wisdom out of Suri’s mouth, of all people. Usually her friend deflected with jokes, or food. But the words were surprisingly just right.

  “…You’re right,” Kana admitted softly. The words tasted unfamiliar. “I’ve been pushing too hard.”

  Suri smiled, licking sauce from her fingers, her eyes glinting in the lanternlight. “Finally. You said it.”

  Boris raised a hand, half serious. “What about me? No gold badge here, just a silver. I’m sure. I’m going to be great, right?”

  Neither Kana nor Suri answered. They turned in unison, walking toward the sloped tunnel that would lead them back toward the surface and the academy.

  Boris stared after them, mouth opening, then shutting again. “Seriously? Not even a you’ll get one someday? Nothing?”

  …….

  The largest tavern in the central district loomed like a fortress of wood and stone, its name whispered more often than spoken aloud. By day, it was raucous—laughter spilling into the streets, mugs clashing, the air thick with roasted meat and spilled ale. By night, it became something else entirely. Its private rooms were the true draw, soundproofed with enchanted stones that pulsed faintly at the corners of each wall. A man could scream his throat raw in here, and not even the server standing three steps outside would hear it.

  In one such room, five men sat around a wide oak table. Their faces were visible, but their weapons remained sheathed at their sides, armor polished and ready. None trusted the others enough to sit defenseless, not within walls of silence.

  The first man—a thin fellow with dark circles under his eyes—broke the quiet. “I got the confirmation. Fifteen dungeon scrappers agreed to the offer.”

  A scarred man leaned back, chair creaking under his weight. “Good. If they accept, then we keep the plan as is.”

  The man with the map—youngest of them, his hands still soft for a soldier—spread parchment across the table. Symbols and hastily drawn tunnels marked the surface. He tapped one shaded zone with a gauntleted finger. “My first time in this dungeon. Here—this zone. Most monsters funnel through, throwing out their skills. We’ll position them here. Right?”

  Another man snorted, low and derisive. “Say it plain. You mean they’ll be the meat shield.” His grin split his face. “Well, word is they’re decent enough. Might even survive. A few of them.”

  A silence fell. Only the soft hum of the stones in the walls filled it, like the thrum of a heartbeat.

  The fifth man—older, his hair silver, his armor etched with faint glyphs—spoke at last, voice cold. “Alive or not, it doesn’t matter. Their purpose is to spend themselves so we don’t have to. Every skill we save is another edge against the boss.”

  The others nodded, agreement hanging thick in the air like smoke.

  The map lay between them, candlelight flickering across its edges. Somewhere in those lines and tunnels, fifty men and women would soon march. Thirty-five guild adventurers, fifteen dungeon scrappers. Only a fraction would ever see daylight again.

  But the five at the table didn’t plan to be among the fallen.