In another chilly morning of rustling leaves and branches, the rest of the class eventually trickled in, crowding the place with yawning and the usual grumbling of having to venture out into the wilderness again. Once everyone was assembled, Instructor Hugo pushed himself off the wall and led them to the nearby clearing.

The lesson for the day was the same as before, except there were no tools or tarps readily available for the class to use. Everyone was expected to rely solely on what they had learned previously; gathering, cutting, tying, and assembling materials with nothing but their hands, a blade if they had one, and a bit of creativity.

Groans erupted from the students' mouths as they shot the instructor a mix of glares and pleading looks, but the veteran ignored their animosity entirely. He merely stood tall, arms crossed, watching them with his usual unbothered expression.

Tyrus didn't bother complaining and went to work. While the others clumsily gathered branches and argued over the best place to set up, Tyrus quietly set to work in a shaded spot near the treeline, weaving together branches and vines with practiced ease. His hands moved automatically, muscle memory guiding him even as his mind wandered back to last night's events, stumped at how the scent of a bear eluded him for that long.

Some students copied his approach once they noticed his progress, while others stubbornly tried to figure it out themselves, resulting in lopsided shelters that would barely survive a stiff breeze. Instructor Hugo didn't intervene much—only offering the occasional grunt of disapproval or nod of acceptance as he circled through the clearing. Surprisingly enough, it didn't take the entire class period before everyone finished.

The instructor then checked them all over, offering his advice on how to improve their creations and what they did right. When faced with criticism, the other students' faces would turn sour, some muttering under their breath while others just kicked at the dirt in frustration. A few even tried to argue, insisting their structures were perfectly fine until Instructor Hugo leaned a single hand against a wall or tugged on a supporting branch and the whole thing sagged or collapsed outright.

It took everything in Tyrus' power to not burst out laughing or even display a shred of a smile. It was satisfying witnessing a bunch of nobles coming to terms with their inability to craft a shelter they claimed was perfect.

Tyrus' shelter, on the other hand, earned nothing more than a grunt of approval and a brief, "Sturdy enough." It wasn't high praise, but from Hugo, that was probably the best anyone would get. Tyrus took it without reaction, brushing a bit of dirt from his hands and waiting quietly as the instructor made his final round.

With the shelters done, the class moved into the next lesson: foraging for food and identifying edible flora.

This part of the lesson was far more useful than the last, for one simple reason: Tyrus knew little about what plants were safe to eat and which ones could kill you with a single bite. He could spot obvious things, like berries that practically glowed with warning colors, but the subtler signs like the slight fuzz on a leaf that marked it as poisonous, or the way certain mushrooms grew in pairs to signal they were safe were entirely new to him.

He wasn't completely clueless, though. Meadow had shown him a handful of plants during their time together, like the phala fruit, a smooth red orb that grew low to the ground, or the clam nut, whose hard outer shell hid a soft, edible flesh inside. What little knowledge he had felt small compared to the sea of names for plants and fruit spewed out of the veterans mouth.

Instructor Hugo gave them a basic rundown by pointing out which leaves to avoid, which roots could be boiled to make them edible, and how to identify false signals, like edible plants that grew too close to poison ones and absorbed some of their toxins. Tyrus listened carefully, committing each tidbit to memory, even if half the class was already zoning out.

By the time the lesson wrapped up, Tyrus' hands were dirt-streaked. Thankfully, he and the rest of the class were given the chance to wash off the grime at a nearby creek. Instructor Hugo kept an eye on them the whole time, his arms crossed, making sure no one tried to wander off. Afterward, the class trudged back toward the academy, some students grumbling that they didn't see the point in learning to "live like laborers," while complaining about the heat and bugs.

Soon as they reached the gate, another bell rung. Tyrus thanked the instructor for the lesson and sped to one of the more fun classes.

The elemental mastery lessons continued on without a hitch. Instructor Alveria had the class practicing with the fire element throughout the hours, going through the spells one by one. Apparently, Elemental Sorcerer students follow a strict order of which element to unlock in their Sorcerer Plane.

Most students reach the second branch of their Karti Tree near the middle or end of the semester and are required to unlock a specific sequence of elements throughout their time in the academy. After their primary affinity, fire comes next, followed by water, earth, air, and finally light. And if a sorcerer's primary affinity so happened to be fire, then water would be their next element to unlock, followed by the rest.

Luckily for Tyrus, he seemed to hit the hammer on the head while blindfolded. He had no knowledge that Elemental sorcerer in the academy were practically forced to follow the order, so he really lucked out since he unlocked multiple elements early, wielding lightning, fire, dark, and light. Now, he must follow the correct path laid out in front of him or else he'd be far behind in practicing the next element in line. In Elementary Mastery I, only the basics and training one's primary affinity were taught.

For the lesson, students were practicing incantations for low-tier spells, such as Firebolt and Ignite. Wax candles were placed in front of a student as they attempted to conjure a small flame with nothing but their will and the proper incantation. The goal was to light the candle using one of the low-tier spells. The students who had less experience with the fire element used Ignite, while the more experienced, more specifically the ones with the primary affinity, used Firebolt.

Whispered incantations filled most of the class. A handful struggled, their candles still a tower of wax and no sign of a flame no matter how many times they repeated the incantation, while others produced weak, sputtering flames that flickered out within moments.

For those whose primary affinity was fire, the task was almost second nature. Their Firebolts flared to life with ease, crackling like embers in the air before being extinguished with a controlled flick of the wrist. The rest of the students, however, had a much harder time. Their Ignite spells barely warmed the wick, and a few were growing visibly frustrated with their lack of progress.

Tyrus had no problem with the lesson thanks to his training back in Selena's manor. So, instead of taking the easy route and conjuring fire with a mere thought, he forced himself to follow the proper steps: focusing on the incantation, shaping the spell, and willing the flame to manifest only when he spoke the words aloud.

Following those steps and uttering Ignite, a flicker of flame burst into existence. It was a mere fleeting wisp of fire, dancing on top of the wick. He extinguished the flame with his finger and repeated the process a few times until it was time to practice Fire Bolt.

As he did so, Tyrus would sometimes glance at his side and note Kylis' and Igneals' progress.

Kylis was among the students struggling with the Ignite spell. She whispered the incantation once more, her hand hovering just above the candle. A faint ember flared to life, but it flickered out before it could properly take hold. Kylis exhaled sharply, rubbing her fingers together as if trying to coax the heat into existence. It was clear that fire was not her forte, and the irritation showed by how tightly pressed her brows were.

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Igneal held no such struggles. His Fire Bolt was sharp and precise, the flame crackling to life the moment he willed it. Unlike the others, he didn't appear to be putting in much effort at all, his expression one of mild boredom as he conjured and dispelled fire repeatedly. It was almost mechanical, like he was going through the motions of something he had long since mastered.

Tyrus wasn't surprised. If anything, he expected as much. Fire was his domain, and being a Lockhart who was a family that excelled in the element, it was only natural for Igneal to wield it with ease. It was in his blood.

Instructor Alveria made her rounds, assisting those who needed it. She moved among them like a shadow, extinguishing flames that were too wild, correcting postures, and giving brief but effective feedback. When she reached Kylis, she lingered for a moment, watching the girl struggle with the Ignite spell.

"I expected this to happen, knowing your primary affinity for ice," said the instructor. "Learning elements on the opposite spectrum of your natural affinity is always a challenge. Fire and ice are particularly opposed, so you'll need to approach this differently than you would with your own magic. Stop treating fire like ice. You're trying to control what is inherently destructive too rigidly. Guide it as you would guide your own breath."

Kylis' face relaxed, and she adjusted her posture. She tried again by speaking the incantation, and a short moment later, an ember formed in her palms, holding for nearly a second before flickering out.

Instructor Alveria nodded approvingly. "Better. Keep at it, Aduna."

"Thank you for your guidance, Instructor Alveria," Kylis acknowledged as the instructor continued to the next student.

The lesson continued, and by the time it wrapped up, most students had made some progress. Tyrus, content with his own practice, extinguished the last of his flames as Alveria clapped her hands.

"That's all for today. Continue refining your control on your own time. Dismissed. I wish you all the best."

As the students dispersed, Igneal sighed as he rose. "What a boring lesson. I've practiced Ignite and Fire Bolt more times than I can count when I first awakened. Everyone else is learning how to walk while I've already started to run."

"Don't be like that," Tyrus said. "You're lucky your primary affinity is what we're learning now. Just wait until the lessons about water begin. Going by what the instructor said, I'm sure even you will struggle."

Igneal snorted. "A Lockhart struggling? The sky would sooner fall. Besides, I'll get ahead of it before that happens. I'm just about there reaching my second branch in the Karti Tree, and water is the next element I'll be pursuing."

"Lord Igneal, confidence is admirable," Kylis said, her voice as even as ever, "but mastery of fire does not ensure mastery of water. The two are opposites for a reason."

"That does not suggest I will experience the same challenges."

"Interesting. So when you do struggle—and you will—I expect you to acknowledge it instead of making excuses."

"Watch your words, specter," Igneal growled.

"You two should probably pace yourselves," Tyrus said, stretching his arms. "We've got more important things to do than argue over who'll struggle and who won't."

Igneal furrowed his brows. "What are you going on about?"

Tyrus gave him a flat look. "You forgot already? We need permission to leave the academy grounds for the Explorer Guild rank promotion, remember?"

"Right, that did slip my mind. What a bothersome rule to enact. I should be free to leave whenever I please."

Kylis, having finished with her belongings, spoke before either of them could. "Instructor Alveria is still present. She's likely your best option. If you explain your reasoning properly, she may grant you permission."

"Good idea," Tyrus said. "Let's ask her before she leaves."

The three made their way toward Instructor Alveria, who was overseeing the last of the students as they finished their exercises. When she noticed the three approaching, she turned to them, and a smile spread across her face.

"If it isn't my three favorite students! What can I help you with?"

Tyrus took the lead. "Instructor, Igneal and I would like to request permission to leave the academy grounds until the next academic week begins. We plan to visit the Explorer's Guild for a rank promotion."

"A rank promotion? At your age? Apologies, but I find it hard to believe the guild would accept children into their ranks. Have you even passed the monthly exam?"

The instructor's eyes widened when Tyrus and Igneal pulled out their copper tags.

"Oh, I remember now. There was word around the city that the Explorer Guild accepted new recruits that had children in them. I assumed those rumors were ridiculous, but those tags seem genuine. Personally, I find the minimum age requirement inadequate and needs to be raised to eighteen, but the Explorer Guild has its own rules, and I suppose talent speaks louder than age."

She sighed, crossing her arms. "Even so, I have my reservations. The dangers outside the academy are far greater than the controlled environment you've grown accustomed to. Are you certain of choosing this path at an age so young?"

"I was sure of myself when I learned of the explorers through others," Tyrus said, matching her gaze. "And besides, Igneal and I won't be alone. We already joined a group that I think is pretty strong."

Though unconvinced, the instructor shrugged. "Fine. I won't stop you. I will notify the headmaster about your request, but understand this—your actions outside the academy reflect on us as well. Please be mindful of your actions and return with no incident."

"We understand, Instructor. We won't do anything reckless."

"Very well. I will handle the paperwork. You're free to leave once it's approved. Just make sure you're back before the next academic week begins. Please wait at the teleportation gate by tonight."

Tyrus thanked her for her time and left the room alongside Igneal and Kylis. As they stepped into the hallway and made their way to their hall, Tyrus said, "Well, that went smoother than I thought. I half-expected her to shut us down immediately."

"She was reassured of your safety by my accompanying you," Igneal explained.

"I don't think that's the reason, but you're free to think that."

Kylis, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, finally spoke up. "So you were serious about the rank promotion. I assumed it was jest you two were members of the Explorer Guild. I have heard that the monthly exams are challenging for the Lethos branch."

"They weren't," Tyrus admitted. "We had to fight our way through a fair number of obstacles just to get our copper tags. But we passed."

"Of course we passed," said Igneal. "Would have been embarrassing if we didn't."

Kylis hummed, clearly skeptical but intrigued. "I'm curious. What drove you two to become explorers?"

"The higher our rank, the better the opportunities," Tyrus said. "Besides, it's not just about the rank itself—we'll get access to better contracts, which means the reward gets bigger. I became an explorer to become rich and live the way I want. As for Igneal, he joined because of jealousy."

A sudden heat flushed Tyrus's neck, but he disregarded it and continued walking. Entering Lavarun Hall, the three of them got themselves a quick bite to eat and just talked about the Explorer Guild and what they were up to in their other classes. This went on until the hall began to empty as students trickled out, heading back to their room or preparing for their final class.

After the bell rung, Tyrus excused himself and left, heading for Ethics and Law of the Sorcerer World, filled with anticipation for tonight. He was half-listening to the instructor going into more detail about the Six Codes and how a sorcerer should conduct themselves in society when his mind kept drifting back to the upcoming trip. The Six Codes were important—he understood that much—but compared to the excitement of the Explorer's Guild, lectures about legal principles and moral obligations felt dull.

Eventually, the lesson ended, and students filed out of the classroom. Tyrus wasted no time heading toward his dorm to pack his things, which wasn't a lot in the first place. He was still dressed in his uniform but stored his casual attire in his ring, one of the few things he brought with him. Having a storage ring capable of holding his belongings made traveling light a breeze. He glanced around the room, ensuring he had forgotten nothing important.

Satisfied, he sat on the edge of his bed, tapping his fingers against his knee as he counted down the hours until departure. When boredom grew, he resorted to reading ahead for a few of his classes and stayed there, reading for hours.

When the appointed time drew near, Tyrus grabbed his things and made his way through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps barely making a sound. By the time he reached the teleportation gate at the front of the school, he found himself alone.

A cool gust swept through the air. Looking up, he traced the curve of the half-moon perched in the cloudless night sky, its luminous beams washing the area in a pale light. It reminded him of the nights spent in the wilderness, staring up at the sky with nothing but the rustling leaves and chirping crickets to keep him company.

The moment of solitude didn't last long. Footsteps approached from the distance. Tyrus turned his head and spotted a tall figure emerging from the main building's front doors. When the figure grew closer, Tyrus recognized it as Grant shuffling toward him. Tyrus hadn't seen him in months, and the sight of him filled Tyrus with happiness.

Right before he could yell out, he spotted something, or rather, someone, draped over Grant's back. Tyrus squinted, adjusting to the dim lighting, and then he saw them—arms dangling, head bobbing with each step, legs limp as if all strength had left them.

"Grant? Who is that on your back?" Tyrus asked, stepping closer.

With a grunt, Grant adjusted his grip, shifting the weight on his back. A tired groan escaped the person he was carrying, and when their face finally came into view, Tyrus nearly gasped.

Reo looked awful. Sunken cheeks, dark bags under his eyes, and a vacant stare—it was as if the life had been drained from him. The image was so extreme that for a split second, Tyrus wondered if Reo had actually gotten his soul sucked out of his body.

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