After harvesting the Hill Giant's monster core, they pressed onward, deeper into the heart of the Giant's Valley.
The following days blurred into a relentless rhythm of battle and movement.
As they ventured further, the cliffs grew steeper, their jagged faces rising like walls that shut out the sun. Shadows devoured whole ridges, and the guttural cries of unseen beasts rolled across the valley like distant thunder.
Here, A-rank monsters ruled unchallenged. No lesser creature dared to exist within the Hill Giant's domain.
And one by one, Alex's blade carved through them.
Each encounter tested them differently—some monsters wielded brute force, others lightning speed, and a few stalked from the dark with unsettling intelligence. Yet all met the same fate beneath Alex's unyielding drive and Sherry's seamless coordination.
Every victory came with risk. Every risk, with reward.
The points kept rising.
The Hill Giants alone were worth fifteen thousand each, and by the end of their fourth day in the valley, their total had surged past ten million—enough to catapult them to fourteenth place on the Academy's ranking board.
It was almost absurd. Two names that no one had noticed at the start of the course now stood among the elites.
But their quiet streak of victories didn't last.
As the Wilderness Training Course entered its fourth and final week, their path crossed with not one, but two teams of the strongest third-year students—each a powerhouse in their own right.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
The ground trembled as the Hill Giant's colossal frame crashed backward, its roar splitting the air with pain and fury. Alex leapt aside, boots skidding through dirt and debris, his crimson blade thrumming faintly with the afterglow of absorbed blood energy.
He steadied his breath, readying for the final strike—
When a piercing surge of wind mana screamed from above.
The air split. A massive conical lance of wind tore straight through the Hill Giant's chest, blasting a hole clean where its heart had been. The monster let out one last strangled groan before collapsing, lifeless and still.
"…What?"
Before Alex could even process it, a cold, imperious voice rolled across the battlefield.
"Claiming a kill that was already mine… bold, aren't we? I'd been casting that spell long before someone decided to charge in blindly at my prey."
The tone carried arrogance, and worse—authority. A faint pressure followed, brushing against Alex's skin like a warning.
From behind a jagged line of rocks, six figures stepped into view. Judging from their outfit marked them as academy students, but their poise, the way they carried themselves, said something else—veterans.
At their head walked a young man with blonde hair and sharp, clear eyes that gleamed with superiority.
Claus Aurstein. Third-year Elite class Magic faculty student and the leader of the current third-ranked team.
Alex's expression flattened. He wasn't sure whether he had actually stolen someone's kill—but he was very sure someone had just stolen his points.
He didn't recognize them personally, but something about the leader—the tilt of his chin, the smug air—felt vaguely familiar.
One of Claus's teammates, a hulking boy clad in reinforced armor, pointed a gauntleted hand at Alex and barked a laugh. "Hey, isn't that the guy? The one who beat your brother?"
For a heartbeat, Claus's smirk faltered. Then it returned, sharper, colder.
"Really now…" His gaze slid toward Alex, slow and deliberate, like a hawk studying its prey. "So you're that commoner cripple who humiliated my brother?"
Alex blinked, momentarily thrown by the insult before realization clicked. "Claude Aurstein, you mean?"
The moment the name left his lips, the air changed. Several of Claus's teammates stiffened, hands inching toward their weapons.
Sherry moved subtly closer, her fists clenched.
Alex's voice stayed calm, though a chill laced his words. "Small world."
Claus took a step forward, a faint shimmer of wind mana curling around his boots. Dust swirled upward in lazy spirals, caught in the pressure of his aura.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that." he said softly. "But don't mistake luck for strength, boy. My brother's disgrace is mine to correct—personally."
The air crackled, the weight of his mana pressing closer—
Then—
Fwoosh!
A sudden gust cut between them, crisp and clean, scattering the tension like glass breaking. The suffocating pressure vanished.
A clear and authoritative voice followed.
"That's enough, Claus."
Everyone turned toward the source of the voice.
From the ridge above, a slender figure descended with the grace of drifting petals, landing lightly upon the plateau. The wind itself seemed to carry her, swirling in gentle eddies around her boots as she straightened. Sunlight caught her golden hair, scattering it in molten strands of brilliance.
Arista Sylfen. Vice President of the Student Council. Third-year, Elite class Magic Faculty student. Leader of the academy's first-ranked team.
Her presence alone demanded silence.
"Claus." Her voice was calm, even warm at first glance—but beneath that composure lay the weight of authority, sharp as tempered steel. "Any fight between students during the Wilderness Training Course leads to immediate disqualification. You know that as well as I do."
She didn't need to raise her voice. Each word carried, deliberate and measured, cutting through the tension like a blade through silk.
Claus turned, his irritation thinly veiled. "Arista…" His jaw tensed, knuckles flexing at his side. For an instant, the wind stirred restlessly around him, whispering his anger. But Arista's gaze—steady, unyielding—froze him mid-motion.
"Enough." she said simply.
That single word struck with quiet finality.
The shimmer of wind mana around Claus dissipated like mist under sunlight. Pride flickered across his features, clashing with reluctant restraint, before he finally exhaled through his teeth. "Tch. We're done here." he muttered, jerking his head toward his team. "Let's go."
His subordinates followed in tense silence, though several cast lingering looks at Alex—dark, wordless promises that this wasn't over. Dust rose behind them as they disappeared deeper into the valley.
Only when their figures vanished did the air seem to loosen its grip.
Arista let out a quiet breath, folding her arms as she turned to face Alex and Sherry. Her expression was unreadable—cool, appraising, neither welcoming nor cold.
Her team moved in behind her, each carried themselves with an ease and the kind of confidence that didn't need to be flaunted.
Arista's team were in the nearby cliffs, when they noticed the commotion nearby. They had arrived just in time to see Claus about to unleash an attack on Alex.
By the time Arista descended to intervene, her sharp eyes had already absorbed the entire scene—two younger students, one familiar, one a complete unknown, standing over the corpse of a freshly slain A-rank monster.
She knew Sherry. But the boy beside her? That was new.
Her tone was firm, but her gaze held no hostility—only concern, softened by curiosity.
"What are you two doing out here alone?" she asked, her tone carrying a blend of concern and quiet authority. "You're aware this region is infested with A-rank monsters, aren't you? This isn't a place a two-person team should be venturing into. Or did you just… wander here by accident?"
Arista's words carried no mockery—only genuine concern. She wasn't the type to belittle others, especially juniors. But what she had just witnessed didn't make sense.
From what she remembered, Sherry was indeed an elite-class student—but her specialty lay in summoning magic and was like a support. She wasn't good in direct combat. Against B-rank monsters and below, she could manage with her summons's protection. But against an A-rank monster? That was beyond her scope.
And then there was the boy.
Arista's gaze shifted to Alex once more, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. His stance wasn't careless; the way he held his sword spoke of experience. Yet his face was unfamiliar. She had never seen him among the academy's top-ranking students, nor had any student report mentioned someone of his description.
A complete unknown—yet standing before an A-rank kill as if it were nothing extraordinary.
That contradiction gnawed at her.
She wasn't doubting their achievement, but even she—a third-year elite of the Mage Faculty—knew what it took to bring down such a monster. Her own strongest incantation, a Tier-6 wind spell, could gravely wound an A-rank beast, but not slay it outright. During that critical casting time, she'd need her team to restrain the enemy, to buy her that essential time.
No student—not even her—could face such a monster alone and walk away unharmed.
Aurora had already given him the woman's introduction.
Alex's gaze returned to the golden-haired figure before him. Even without Aurora's reminder, he could tell—her words came from genuine concern, not arrogance.
He gave a small nod, meeting her eyes steadily. "I appreciate the warning, Senior Arista. But we're not here by mistake."
Arista's brows lifted ever so slightly.
"We've already taken down several Hill Giants," he said, his voice calm, unhurried. "Just the two of us. We haven't had any real trouble handling them so far."
For a brief moment, silence settled over.
Arista blinked once, her expression composed yet faintly curious. Behind her, several of her teammates exchanged disbelieving glances, whispers passing between them like ripples.
"Several Hill Giants?" one murmured under her breath. "That's impossible…"
But Arista didn't dismiss the claim outright. Her eyes dropped to the blade in Alex's hand.
Up close, she could feel it—the sword's aura radiated an oppressive energy, thick with bloodlust and power. The weapon almost seemed to breathe.
"Is that confidence of yours tied to that artifact?" she asked at last, her tone neither accusing nor skeptical—just quietly probing.