It was the last day of the weekend before their departure. The trio decided to visit the orphanage—one last time before leaving for the northern fortress, where they would spend about a week beside the kingdom’s northern frontier soldiers.

  Lily and Shar hugged their daughter tightly, reluctant to let go. Around them, the younger children crowded the doorway, their faces glowing with curiosity instead of sadness. They’d long since learned that farewells weren’t forever—only pauses between stories.

  “Kana miss!” a small boy called, “I heard the Anlen fruit from the north is really delicious—sour and a little spicy. Can you get us some?”

  Kana smiled and crouched down to meet his eyes. “It’s a promise,” she said softly. “I’ll bring you some.”

  “I promise too!” Suri said, grinning from ear to ear. “Though… maybe I’ll eat one. Just one. For taste testing.”

  The children burst into laughter and groaned in unison.

  “Sis Suri will probably eat them all!” one of them shouted.

  “She will!” another chimed in.

  Suri put a hand on her chest with mock offense. “I would never betray your trust. Probably.”

  Even Boris chuckled at that, shaking his head.

  Amid the laughter, the village chief approached, his gait slow but steady. He carried a small wooden box under one arm and reached into his coat pocket. “You three,” he said, looking at each of them in turn. “I know you’ll see more danger up north than you’ve ever seen here.”

  He held out his palm, revealing a faintly glowing ring, the metal etched with faint, shifting runes. “I know this is a dungeon item,” he said. “I won’t ask how you got it—but I hope it brings you protection.”

  He pressed it into Suri’s hand.

  “Eh? Why me?” Suri blinked in surprise.

  Boris frowned. “Yeah, Da, why her? I’m the one who takes the hits.”

  The chief shrugged. “Because she looks the weakest,” he said simply. “And fragile things… deserve a little luck.”

  Suri stared at the ring for a long moment, then smiled. “Thank you, Chief!”

  The chief gave a nod, the corners of his eyes creasing with age. “You better not. Things like that—sometimes they choose their owners.”

  Kana didn’t argue.. they still had no idea what the looted ring function was. She took a mental note. Another item that needed to be inspected by the grandma [Analyst].

  …

  The day of departure arrived—along with a chaos no one had quite prepared for.

  The academy courtyard, normally a quiet expanse of training grounds, had transformed into a sea of parents, wagons, luggage, and anxious voices. Mothers clung to their children’s sleeves, fathers shouted last-minute advice, and a few noble families even brought their own custom carriages—polished, jeweled, and utterly rejected by the academy’s officials.

  “The academy takes full responsibility,” one tired instructor repeated for what must have been the hundredth time. “Private vehicles are not allowed!”

  The trio’s group was no different from the others. Opel and Asha crowded around Yuri, their words tumbling over each other in nervous repetition.

  “Remember what I said—if anything happens, stay calm. Don’t wander off, don’t take risks, don’t—”

  “I know, Mother,” Yuri groaned. “You’ve said that six times.”

  Kana winced slightly, regretting the full sensitivity of her [High Awareness] as the clamor of overlapping farewells pressed against her mind like an ocean of noise.

  Nearby, Raydon Kergastel stood beside his brother Andel, handing him a small rolled parchment. “Avoid the frozen valleys east of Veinwood. The beasts there don’t hibernate fully,” he said. His tone was calm, his advice precise—this wasn’t something found in any book. It was the language of experience, something Kana recognized instantly.

  She found herself quietly impressed.

  Most of the students were surrounded by family—embraces, tears, blessings. All except the trio. Suri stood idly, half-smiling as she watched others say goodbye. Rin shared her snacks from her parents with anyone close enough to reach. And Roy sulked nearby, still lamenting that his bones from the Tavis Titan weren't allowed on the trip due to its large space. His parents tried to cheer him up with exaggerated gestures and forced laughter.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Then, Principal Light’s voice rose above the commotion, echoing from a shimmering crystal at his throat.

  “Parents, families—please, leave the academy grounds. The expedition will begin shortly. You have my word: your children will be safe. Simply consider this as a long field trip.”

  One by one, the families stepped back, waving until the last possible moment before disappearing through the gate.

  “Finally,” a calm voice murmured behind Kana.

  She turned—and froze.

  Zia stood there, her cloak shifting in the cold morning wind, expression unreadable. Kana blinked, confused. Her [High Awareness] hadn’t sensed a thing—not even a flicker of presence until Zia spoke.

  Was it stealth? Concealment magic? Or something far more innate?

  As Zia approached, the atmosphere around her remained… normal. Too normal. No pressure. No killing intent. Not even the faint hum of mana that usually surrounded strong adventurers.

  Kana’s instincts prickled.

  That’s what’s wrong, she realized. She feels ordinary. But she wasn’t.

  And that—she decided—was far more dangerous than any adventurer escorts around.

  …

  One by one, the wagons rolled away from the academy gates, wheels creaking against the stone road. The sight was something to behold — rows of carriages glinting under the morning light, each bearing the academy’s crest and a small squad of nervous, chattering students. Teachers rode beside them, and the silver-ranked adventurers stood like sentinels atop some of the wagons, scanning the horizon.

  It was less a field trip and more a small army on the move. Almost half a thousand people, guarded and organized, all heading north toward a land wrapped in frost, myth and dangers.

  In their own wagon, Zia sat cross-legged near the front, eyes closed, as if she were meditating — or sleeping with perfect balance despite every bump of the uneven road. The rhythmic clack-clack of wooden wheels became almost soothing.

  Wor-en, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found. He’d been assigned additional responsibilities — the kind that involved coordination, scouting, and likely a lot of quiet paperwork done in other carriages.

  “It’s really exciting!” Yuri said, unable to keep still. Her eyes darted to every passing tree and hill. “This is the first time I’m going to sleep outside! We’re going to camp, right?”

  Suri groaned, pulling her hood tighter. “Exciting? You’ll change your mind when a bug crawls up your blanket. Or when your pillow is a rock.”

  Rin snorted, remembering their last outdoor adventure. “Don’t forget the cold. You’ll wake up feeling like your soul froze halfway out of your body.”

  Yuri’s smile wavered. “Oh…”

  “Sorry to crush your excitement,” Roy said, adjusting the straps of his bag. “But we’re not camping right away. The first few nights are in small villages.”

  Kana glanced at him. “How do you know? I heard the route changed this time to avoid what happened before.”

  Roy smirked — and then, from the folds of his robe, a small skeletal dog poked its bony snout out, tail made of loose vertebrae wagging weakly. “I have my ways.”

  The others leaned back instinctively. The creature tilted its skull up, as if sniffing the air — though it had no nose.

  Before anyone could comment, Zia opened her eyes.

  Her gaze was sharp, ancient — and for a brief moment, the interior of the wagon felt smaller, quieter. The skeletal dog froze as if under command.

  “I’ve only witnessed this skill a few times,” Zia said calmly. “You have a rather… intriguing class, young [Necromancer].”

  Roy straightened, unsure if he should feel proud or terrified. “Ah—thank you?”

  Adam, curiosity overcoming fear, leaned forward. “When was the last time you saw a skill like that, Miss Zia?”

  Zia tilted her head, lips curving faintly. “Hmm… more than three hundred years ago.”

  The wagon went utterly silent.

  Even the wheels seemed to hush for a heartbeat.

  Then Suri whispered, “Three hundred…?”

  Kana glanced at Zia. For the first time since they’d met, she felt something stir behind the woman’s easy smile — something vast, old, and dangerous.

  Zia just winked, folding her arms again and closing her eyes as if the conversation had never happened.

  Outside, snow began to fall softly, the flakes clinging to the passing trees — and the long road to the northern fortress stretched endlessly ahead.

  ….

  After several hours on the road, the caravan finally stopped to rest. The students poured out of their wagons like restless birds, stretching their stiff limbs and groaning in relief. Horses were unhitched and led to a narrow creek beside the road — a curious one, for its waters ran bright and unfrozen despite the cold weather.

  “Oh! This is heavenly good!” Zia said, voice bright as she took a bite from Suri’s stash of dried fruit and nut biscuits. She looked genuinely delighted, cheeks slightly puffed as she chewed.

  Kana tilted her head with a faint smile. So that’s it, she thought. Zia’s weakness — snacks. Suri, of course, noticed too, her grin widening like a fox discovering a secret lever.

  Meanwhile, Boris and the boys had wandered toward another group — where a few adventurers were lounging near the creek. Laughter erupted as they chatted with a pair of silver-ranked women clad in fur-trimmed armor. The air was light for once, until someone mentioned Zia’s supposed age. Then, as if a candle had been snuffed out, the boys’ enthusiasm evaporated instantly.

  Across the resting area, Kana heard her name. “Kana!”

  Chelle Pint jogged over, her coat flapping, a small puff of steam rising from her lips as she spoke in a whisper. “You guys need to be careful,” she said. Her tone was too low and serious for a break-time chat. “I overheard some students earlier—they’re planning something. Not… bad-bad, I think, but something to mess with you three. They know you’re strong, so they’re trying a different approach.”

  Kana raised a brow, amused. “Different approach?”

  Chelle wrung her hands. “Just—whatever they do, promise you won’t kill them, alright?”

  Kana blinked, then chuckled softly. “I think we’re having a misunderstanding here.”

  Before Chelle could reply, a booming voice cut across the field.

  “We’re here to rest, not gossip!” Principal Light’s voice carried unnaturally well, magnified by his voice-enhancing stone. “Get back to your wagons! We leave in five minutes! Anyone left behind can enjoy walking all the way to the next village!”

  Groans erupted across the students as they scrambled to pack up.

  Kana glanced once more at the creek — the way the water gleamed oddly under the pale sky. Something about it felt… unnatural. But before she could focus, Suri tugged at her sleeve.

  “Come on, Kana. You don’t want to end up walking.”