Morning light spilled through the curtains of Noel's dorm room, but he didn't wait for it to fully settle.

Two days.

That was all the weekend gave him — and he wasn't going to waste a second.

Noel tied his boots, checked his gear, and slipped a folded note onto his desk.

Girls,

Went out early.

Testing a new toy.

Don't worry — Noir's with me.

I'll be back before afternoon.

— Noel

They had keys; they'd find it when they woke.

Noir hopped onto his shoulder, tail swaying. 'They're going to scold you later, Dad.'

"Yeah," Noel muttered, tightening his coat. "But they'd scold me even more if I brought them somewhere untested."

He opened his dimensional pouch, reached inside the pocket of compressed mana, and pulled out the cloak.

Mana rippled through the air as the fabric unfolded.

[Item identified]

Name: Veil of the Silent Sentinel

Type: Armor – Cloak

Grade: Unique

Description: A mantle woven from condensed mana threads. Adapts to the wearer's presence, concealing movement and absorbing killing intent. The stronger the enemy's hostility, the harder it becomes for them to strike true.

Status: Bound to User – Noel Thorne

Traits:

• Hostile Veil – Reduces detection from enemies actively seeking to harm the user.

• Silent Guard – Slightly diminishes incoming physical and magical damage when the user is caught off guard.

• Sentinel's Pulse – Reacts to lethal intent by reinforcing the cloak's mana barrier for one heartbeat. ]

The fabric was impossibly light — cool to the touch, weightless yet firm, like holding a breeze shaped into cloth.

Noel slid it around his shoulders.

It settled on him instantly, molding to his form with a soft thrum of mana.

"…Not bad."

Noir circled him twice, sniffing. 'It smells like compressed storm air. And space. And danger. I like it. You look handsome dad.'

Noel stepped to the window, rolled his shoulders, and felt the cloak shift — adjusting to movement, tension, intent.

"Time to test how well you actually work."

He pushed the window open, vaulted to the balcony rail, and jumped down silently.

Valon was just waking up.

"Come on, Noir," Noel said, walking toward the eastern gate. "We've got two days to get stronger."

Noir purred, shadows curling around her paws.

'Then let's hunt.'

The road east of Valon was quiet at this hour — merchants barely setting up, guards yawning at their posts, the distant smell of fresh bread drifting through the morning air.

Noel tightened the cloak around his shoulders as he walked, Noir perched like a proud sentinel on his shoulder.

"Hm…" Noel muttered. "Is there any good hunting ground near here for someone my level? Now that I think about it… I can't go back to Varn's Hollow. The monsters there are way too weak now. Wouldn't do anything for me."

Noir flicked her tail. 'You're right, Dad. They wouldn't even scratch you. Going there would be a total waste of time.' She puffed her chest smugly. 'Though it does prove how strong you've gotten. Don't you think you're unusually strong for your age?'

Noel snorted lightly. "Yeah, I am. No point pretending otherwise." His voice softened. "But I still need to get much stronger. Archmage isn't optional anymore… we'll need it. And since you grow stronger with me…" He looked at her. "What happens to you when I rank up? Will you get bigger again?"

Noir's ears perked up, pleased.

'Yes. When Noctis showed you his memories back in the library, he showed them to me too. I know how far I can grow in strength.' Her eyes gleamed with excitement. 'Size isn't important — I can control that on my own. But my power will keep climbing as long as yours does. So when you reach Archmage… expect me to evolve again.'

Noel's lips curved at the edge. "Good. I'll need you at your strongest."

'Always, Dad,' Noir replied, pressing her head against his jaw. 'Always.'

They reached the outskirts of the city — past the stone walls, past the guard outpost, onto the dirt path leading into wider lands.

Now came the real question.

Where could someone like Noel actually train?

And who in Valon would know?

Noel stepped off the main road, boots crunching over gravel as he thought through the problem logically.

Valon wasn't just the human capital — it was the center of magic and power on the continent. And Archmages? There were nearly a hundred of them living here. A hundred Ascendant-rank individuals in one city.

Which meant something very simple:

"There has to be a hunting ground for high-level mages," Noel muttered. "A place where people like them train. Somewhere dangerous enough."

Noir flicked her tail thoughtfully.

'Then we just have to find the right people to ask.'

Noel's eyes drifted to a familiar sign ahead — carved obsidian, polished steel handles, and a faintly glowing crest above the entrance:

THE CAST IRON HORN – Hunters' Lounge

Not a normal tavern. Not a casual bar.

A place where high-rank fighters, elite mercenaries, and high-tier mages gathered. The kind of place that didn't even open its doors to regular citizens.

Perfect.

He pushed the door open.

Warm lamplight spilled out, blending with the low hum of deep voices and clinking glasses. The air smelled of roasted meat, and strong alcohol.

Conversations dipped for a moment.

Dozens of eyes turned toward him.

Recognition flashed instantly.

Some whispered:

"That's Noel Thorne…"

"From the Imperial Academy…"

"The kid who fought in the Holy Capital?"

"Didn't he survive the recent Thorne tragedy…?"

Others just nodded respectfully — not just because of his surname, but because of the rumors about what he'd done. Valon talked. And Valon remembered.

Noir straightened proudly on his shoulder. 'They know you, Dad.'

Noel ignored the attention and walked to the counter.

The barkeep — a broad-shouldered man with grey streaks in his beard — leaned forward.

"…Didn't expect you here, kid," he said in a gravelly voice. "Most people your age stick to the academy district."

Noel shrugged. "I'm not most people."

A few nearby hunters chuckled quietly.

"What're you looking for?" the barkeep asked, wiping a crystalline mug. "Judging by the fact that you've come to a place like this for the first time, it means you need something."

Noel nodded.

"I need hunting grounds," he said. "Not beginner zones. Somewhere an Ascendant might actually die if they're careless."

The room fell silent.

The barkeep's eyebrow lifted slowly.

"…You looking to die?"

Noir hissed softly. 'Rude.'

Noel shook his head. "No. I'm looking to grow."

Then the barkeep smirked. "…Then you came to the right place."

The barkeep leaned forward, lowering his voice just enough for only Noel.

"See… there aren't many places that match what you're asking," he began. "But there is one."

Noel's eyes sharpened.

The barkeep continued:

"It's a shared hunting ground. Not owned by any guild — neutral territory. A place where anyone strong enough can train, as long as they don't start fights."

Noir's ears perked. 'Neutral zones are usually dangerous. Good.'

"It isn't far from here," the barkeep went on. "But it is underground. Hidden. The entrance is sealed so regular adventurers don't wander in and die."

He wiped the counter one more time before adding:

"The place is protected by Imperial Valor Guards. Their job is to keep low-rank idiots out. But you—"

He gave Noel a long, meaningful look.

"—they'll let in."

Noel nodded slowly. "Where exactly?"

The barkeep pointed toward the northern district.

"You'll find a stone arch with a silver crest. Two guards stand in front of it at all hours. Tell them you're here to train. They'll know what to do."

He straightened, voice taking on a small note of warning.

"Inside, you'll meet other hunters. People on your level. Some even stronger. If you're lucky, someone might team up with you."

Noir flicked her tail smugly. 'We don't need a team.'

Noel ignored her, giving the barkeep a small nod of respect.

"Thank you. Really."

He reached into his pouch, placed a gold coin on the counter, and slid it forward.

The barkeep looked surprised — a rare reaction from such a hardened man.

"…Generous for a single point of advice."

"It was good advice," Noel said simply.

He turned, cloak swaying behind him as he headed to the door.

Noir hopped to his other shoulder, purring. 'Let's go, Dad. Monsters are waiting.'

The northern district of Valon was quieter than the marketplace, lined with stone towers and patrol routes reserved for imperial personnel.

Noel walked with purpose, Noir perched proudly on his shoulder as the air grew cooler.

Then he saw it.

A massive stone arch, carved with runic lines and a silver crest at the top — the mark of the Imperial Valor Guard.

Two armored sentries flanked the sealed door beneath it, spears grounded, posture firm.

As Noel approached, their eyes widened slightly in recognition.

One stepped forward.

"Noel Thorne…?"

"Yeah," Noel replied calmly. "I heard there's a training ground below. I'd like to enter."

The guards exchanged a look — one of both respect and concern.

The older guard crossed his arms. "Before that — how are things in the Thorne territory? After… everything that happened."

Noel paused.

For a moment, the memory flashed behind his eyes.

But he nodded.

"We're doing well," he said. "Thanks to the reinforcements Valor sent. Without them… we wouldn't have recovered this fast."

Both guards exhaled quietly, relief softening their expressions.

"Good," the younger one said. "Your family went through hell. Glad to hear it's back on its feet."

Then — a small smile.

"And if you're here to train, That's very good; it speaks well of you, about wanting to become stronger."

Noel didn't deny it.

The older guard lifted his spear and tapped the arch twice.

The runes ignited.

RUMBLE—

Stone shifted, unlocking, pulling inward to reveal a staircase descending into flickering light and distant roars.

"Go on," the guard said. "You're cleared to enter."

Noir's tail curled with excitement. 'Dad… I can smell something strong down there.'

"Good," Noel murmured, pulling his cloak tighter. "We need strong."

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