Seth and Elena descended the stone staircase, their footsteps the only sound in the quiet corridor. Most of the academy was likely swarming the Trial Tower grounds, making last-ditch efforts to improve their rankings.

Elena broke the silence as they reached the last flight of stairs. "There's no way they'll actually give you Eldric's book," she said, shaking her head.

Seth shrugged, still looking ahead. He willingly had gone against the director's advice and told the noblewoman since he knew she would keep it to herself to avoid causing him trouble. "And yet he still said he'd see what he could do."

A rumble of aether emanated from Seth's necklace, and Nightmare's voice resonated faintly, "He said he'd have to ask permission from his pack first."

Elena shot a sideways glance toward Seth's neck, eyebrows knitted. "Even so. I don't think any commoner got that book without taking a noble House name first. Besides, each and every copy is sealed by aether. A commoner couldn't open it even if they stole one."

Seth felt a momentary knot tighten in his chest. If they try to bestow me a noble name so I can open it, that could be troublesome. They'd quickly discover I already have one—Elrod.

But before his unease could deepen, Elena continued.

"Honestly, though," she mused aloud, "asking for Eldric's book was a great idea if they end up somehow saying yes. Improving the qualities of your spell would significantly boost your strength before the war—probably Nightmare's too."

"I don't need any human's book," Nightmare scoffed from inside the necklace, disdain dripping from every syllable.

Elena's lips curled up slightly. "I still think you'd benefit from it."

Seth looked at her, his curiosity suddenly piqued. "Did they offer you anything in return for participating?"

"No," Elena replied, her fingers brushing the handrail. "The director knew I'd say yes."

"You could've still asked for something."

The noblewoman's shoulders rose and fell in a slight shrug. "Maybe."

The cafeteria loomed ahead, opening to the noisy buzz of chatter and clinking dishes. When the two of them stepped inside, Devus spotted them first, waving energetically from their usual table, Jenna sitting right beside him.

"So?" Jenna asked impatiently the moment Seth and Elena sat down. "What did they want?"

"They asked us to represent the academy in the pre-war skirmish," the noblewoman answered, "in four weeks in Oskon."

Jenna's spoon clattered against her bowl. For a split second, a flicker of something that seemed to be jealousy crossed her face before she managed to mask it with a tight smile. The reaction caught Seth off guard. She had never been a fan of the military, courtesy of her father's position. Why would she be jealous, then? Because we are both commoners and they chose me instead of her?

Beside her, Devus' excitement immediately surged. "You're serious?" he said, practically bouncing in his seat. "That's amazing, mate! You have to take notes. I want every detail about the empire's best soldiers. Strengths, weaknesses, everything."

Seth couldn't hold back a faint smile. "Sure. I'll try."

Devus nodded firmly, satisfied. "Anyway, I need your opinions on something of great importance," he said, pointing at Jenna beside him. "Miss Pessimist here thinks there's no chance I can be squad leader. What do you both think?"

"No," Elena answered bluntly before Seth could speak. "People won't accept orders from someone with a lower Rank."

Jenna shot a glance at the Guardian. "Told you."

Devus deflated, grumbling something inaudible as he speared at his food.

"You can still give it a try," Seth said in an attempt to cheer up his roommate.

"Oh no, don't encourage him," Jenna retorted, dragging a hand down her face. "He'll just get on the bad side of every second- or third-year in his squad."

Devus's head snapped up, and a smile flickered back on his face. "Nah, he's right. I should definitely try. What have I got to lose?"

"Did you not hear a word of what I just said," Jenna muttered, vigorously pulling her cheeks down.

Seth looked at his friends bickering around him. Like Jenna, Elena, and Devus, his class the following morning was Squad Training—a course designed to build cohesion with those he'd soon fight beside. But to him, it felt futile.

A gentle nudge brought him back. Elena was watching him, concern flickering in her green eyes. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Seth forced a smile, masking the weight churning inside him.

The upcoming war, the practice drills, the endless classes about rules and politics… everything all felt kinda pointless.

The next morning, Seth stood in a dusty clearing bordered by towering pines, the sharp scent of the forest heavy in the air. Since the noble squads had claimed the grounds of the coliseum—naturally—the commoners were relegated to this patch of dirt. At the moment it was surrounded by forty-nine other students in gray training uniforms, all forming a loose, uneven circle.

Seth's gaze drifted across the faces around him, searching for anyone he knew. It didn't take long for his eyes to meet a familiar pair he'd recognize anywhere—Selena's. The Rogue he'd saved in the Desert of Misery stood among the recruits, her long red hair now cut to shoulder length, framing her stoic face.

A silent look passed between them; her eyes carried a depth of gratitude that needed no words, and yet she pressed her lips into something Seth had never thought he'd see on her face: a smile.

Judging by the golden twos and threes stitched onto the other uniforms, they, along with Selena and a young woman with short blond hair from his Aether Affinity class, were the only first-years in the squad. No real surprise there; only Irons were being sent to war.

She had broken through, Seth realized, thinking of Selena.

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But just as he started toward the Rogue to congratulate her, a broad-shouldered student with a shaved head and a bright, welcoming smile stepped up to him.

"You're Seth, right?" he asked warmly, extending a hand. "Henry, third-year. Saw your fights against Veronica Duranger and Lucius Faertis. Impressive stuff."

Seth shook Henry's hand, mildly surprised by the enthusiasm. "Thanks."

"Glad to have you on the squad," Henry continued, his grin widening further. "We'll kick some ass together!"

Seth gave a faint, awkward smile. " I'm only Rank 30. Not sure how much help I'll be."

"Ah, come on," Henry scoffed, giving Seth a friendly bump on the shoulder. "The war's more than two months out. A genius like you can definitely reach Rank 40 by then."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Seth answered, shaking his head.

"Don't be modest," Henry pressed. "Everyone back at the outpost has been talking you up. Especially Celine."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "You're an Adventurer?"

"Yeah," Henry confirmed as he lifted his chin proudly. "I'm also a member of the famous Old Gramps."

Seth's expression twisted in disbelief. "The Old Gramps? They're the ones with the naked old guy as the emblem?"

Henry laughed loudly, drawing curious glances from nearby students. "Yeah, that one. Nearly got expelled for wearing our emblem to class during my first year."

"Can't say I'm surprised," Seth answered with a chuckle, imagining the scene.

Before Henry could respond further, a loud thud sliced through the chatter, silencing everyone. Sergeant Tirus strode toward them, his boots heavy against the packed dirt and his steel-gray eyes sweeping over the gathered students. Seth let out a quiet breath of relief; the man, who was the Warriors' instructor from Combat Theory, was one of the few who didn't seem to look down on commoners.

"Morning, everyone. I'll be your instructor for this class," Sergeant Tirus announced, his voice sharp and clear. "Our goal here will be simple: forge your synergy as a unit. We will identify your strengths and weaknesses. If you pay attention and stay focused, you might survive what's coming."

The students exchanged uneasy glances and Seth took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, as the sergeant's words settled over them. Then the man waved his hand and a glowing list appeared in the air, shimmering softly in the daylight.

Names, Ranks, and Classes manifested in neat rows. Seth's eyes went straight to the top: Henry, Warrior, Rank 50. Then, he scanned down the list, his focus mainly on the Ranks. A pit almost instantly formed in his stomach; more than half of the squad were in the Rank 30s.

A student raised a hesitant hand. "Sir, isn't it foolish to send Rank 30s into a Warfare Rift against Rank 50s and Rank 60s?"

Sergeant Tirus shot the student a hard glare. "We fight with the army we have, not the army we want. We don't have the luxury of filling every squad with Rank 50s and 60s. Those composed with soldiers of Kastal's army or Adventurer Guild hirelings will probably reach that mark—not the squads from Trogan, Oskon, or Siera academies. But don't worry, the Bridan Empire faces the same issue."

I doubt that, Seth thought, his jaw clenching. From what Toren had told him, the Bridan Empire had far more Wielders thanks to their policy of awakening everyone regardless of social status. And that was exactly why Kastal's army had been slaughtered during the Red War against the empire fifteen years ago. Too many under-ranked Wielders thrown into a meat grinder. The battles in the Warfare Rifts had been anything but fair.

Seems like history's about to repeat itself.

"We need a squad leader and two deputies to step in if necessary," the sergeant continued.

Henry's hand almost immediately shot into the air. "I'll do it."

Another student quickly volunteered. "I'll be his left hand."

Before anyone else could say a word, Henry turned toward Seth. "Seth can be my right hand."

Seth opened his mouth, ready to object, but stopped. No one said a word. No protests or mocking glances. Their silent approval caught him off guard, and for the first time it struck him—they were all commoners. They respect me, he realized. Because of the semester's tournament. And because of everything that happened with the Black Hounds.

"Excellent," Sergeant Tirus said with a nod, taking out a handful of Protecting Belts from his Endless Pouch. "Then let's get to work."

The name list before the men split in five smaller rows. "And Seth," he added, glancing his way, "bring out your beast. He's part of the squad too."

Nightmare materialized with an eager growl, stretching leisurely. 'Great, I'll show them how real beasts fight.'

What followed was brutal. After dividing the squad, Sergeant Tirus ran them through relentless skirmishes—three hours of mock battles designed to push them to their limits. Group against group, they clashed over and over until sweat soaked their training uniforms and their muscles screamed. The Protecting Belts dulled the true danger of the attacks, but didn't stop bruises and scrapes from stacking up.

Nightmare became a terror on the field, his shadowy strikes keeping the other groups scrambling, while Seth found himself naturally stepping into the role of coordinating his partner attack with the rest of the group, fighting with bare fists since the sergeant didn't have combat gauntlets. At first, he'd thought it was reckless to let the direwolf fight alongside them without any protection—but every time they fought, the sergeant used an instant spell-scroll to cover him with a barrier. It was quite an expensive way to make them learn how to fight with him.

Seth finally collapsed onto the ground, breathless and drenched. Henry dropped heavily beside him, equally exhausted. Ahead, Nightmare had their last opponent pinned firmly beneath his large paws.

Sergeant Tirus approached, nodding repeatedly. "Great fight, Squad A." He then turned sharply to other students. "You should have protected your Priest far better, Squad B."

"How?" a frustrated student argued back. "That damn direwolf can turn invisible!"

The sergeant's eyes hardened. "And? The enemy could have spells and artifacts that allow them to do the same. Learn to adapt. Keep someone at all times by their side? Attack it before it can attack them? There's plenty of ways to stop that beast."

Henry leaned toward Seth, voice low. "Lucky he's on our side."

Seth let out a tired chuckle while shaking his head. "Wait until he does something stupid. You won't like him as much then."

Sergeant Tirus clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "That's it for today. You're all dismissed."

With a groan, Seth pushed himself to his feet.

"Good job out there, Nightmare," Henry said, flashing the direwolf a grin.

Nightmare padded toward them, smug satisfaction radiating from every single one of his steps as he pushed aether out of throat to answer. "Obviously."

Rolling his eyes, Seth recalled the direwolf into the teardrop necklace—then caught sight of a figure weaving through the dispersing crowd, heading toward him. Selena.

Henry followed his gaze and gave a knowing smile. "Hey, I'll go hand in our belts. Give me yours."

Seth nodded, unstrapping the artifact and passing it over. "Thanks."

"No problem," Henry said before walking toward Sergeant Tirus.

Selena stopped in front of Seth. For a moment, she seemed unsure what words to choose, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. "Um, Seth," she said softly. "Thank you. For everything."

He met her eyes and saw the raw sincerity inside them. "Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're safe. And I owed you for saving me back at Arthuri."

She nodded, and her lips pressed once again into an awkward, unnatural smile. "I also wanted to thank you for asking the outpost's administrator, Celine, to help me. Arranging that escort… to make sure the Faertis couldn't kill me. It's a lot."

Seth's expression darkened, but an instant later he swallowed the anger rising in his chest. "It was the least I could do. And your testimony will matter at the trial."

"I guess so," she answered, her tone now stronger than before. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow." She gave him another small nod before turning away and disappearing into the crowd of students

A moment later, Henry returned. "The sergeant says to bring your gauntlets next time. He probably won't find any for you by then."

"Got it. I'll bring them."

As the two of them began to walk back toward the academy's main building, Henry moved closer. "So, is it true?" he said, his voice lowering slightly. "What have people been saying about the House Faertis? Hiring mercenaries to sell people to humanoid beasts?"

Seth's good mood soured. "Yeah, it's true," he hissed despite himself. "Yet only two of those bastards are going to pay for it." His core stirred in his chest as images of Lucius and his brother flashed through his mind. "Everyone else will walk free."

"That sucks," Henry said, his mouth twisting to the side. A moment later, his face lit up again. "But honestly, what you did was badass. Going alone into an overgrown Rift to save all those people? I shit you not, some bards are singing your tales in taverns."

Nightmare's aether voice erupted from within Seth's necklace, "He wasn't alone."

Henry laughed, nodding appreciatively. "Fair enough. You also deserve some due credit, Nightmare"

Ahead, Seth caught sight of Professor Reat leaning against a stone pillar, clearly waiting. Seth slowed and turned to Henry. "I'll catch you later."

"See you around," Henry replied, giving him a friendly nod before continuing on his way.

Seth approached the professor and stopped a few steps away. "Professor."

Reat pushed himself away from the pillar while he also gestured to the right with his head. "Let's go for a walk."

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