Chapter 106
The sun was already sinking low by the time the last class of the day began. Most students had long since returned to their dorms or were enjoying the comforts of the academy, bathing in scented waters, sipping imported teas, or planning their next public display of status and charm.
But in the northern wing of the academy, in a forgotten old training hall once left to gather dust, the sounds of training rang loud and sharp. The clang of steel, the scuff of boots, and the low thrum of tension filled the air.
Seven students stood in formation, serious and focused. At the far right was Dane Lazarus, silent and still, like a blade ready to be drawn. Just behind him stood Melgil Veara Gehinnom, arms folded, her sharp eyes never resting. The rest of the class Ysil, Lora, Galen, Thalen, and Ormin completed the line.
Their combat instructor, Matheo Roclus, paced slowly in front of them. His hands were clasped behind his back, his presence heavy with the quiet authority of someone who had seen too many young warriors buried before their time.
"Today's lesson," he said, his voice rough like stone grinding against steel, "is about situational improvisation under stress."
He stopped walking and looked each of them in the eye.
"In simpler terms: what do you do when the plan falls apart? When your teammate screams and falls, when the map you studied burns to ash, when your squad leader panics... or when your own hands start to shake?"
Lora's fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger. Ysil took a quiet breath. Galen's jaw locked into place.
Matheo continued. "I've seen perfect strategies fall apart because one person couldn't adapt. Alertness keeps you alive. Control keeps everyone else alive."
He clapped his hands once.
"Pair up. We're running live combat drills. Blunted weapons only. No magic unless I say so. Your goal isn't to win. It's to adapt."
The students moved quickly.
Daniel paired with Thalen,hand-to-hand combat versus staff.
Melgil paired with Galen, two daggers against longsword and a two daggers
Ysil with Ormin, bow and arow against a short-handled axe.
That left Lora without a partner. Matheo pointed at her.
"You're the observer. You move through the field, but you don't engage unless provoked. You speak only. Survive. Watch. Communicate. Let's see how well your classmates listen."
He stepped back and gave the signal
"Begin!"
The room came to life.
Dane struck first, fast and low. His movements were sharp and controlled, forcing Thalen to stay on the defensive. Thalen tried to step back and reset, but Dane was already ahead—his blade sweeping just inches from a clean strike.
Melgil advanced on Galen with calculated pressure, testing his rhythm. She wasn't aiming to overpower but to find the cracks in his defense. Galen kept his stance solid, adjusting step by step, trying to control the distance between them.
On the far side, Ormin roared and charged at Ysil with wild strength. But Ysil moved low and fast, sliding beneath his swing and tapping his ribs with the flat of her dagger. Ormin grabbed for her wrist, but she twisted out with graceful precision.
And in the middle of it all, Lora did not fight—she observed.
"Galen, your right side's open! Dane, Thalen's circling! Ormin, adjust your stance—he's baiting!"
Her voice cut through the noise, guiding them in real time.
From the edge of the hall, Matheo watched in silence, nodding.
Then his voice rang out again.
"Switch partners. Now."
Chaos exploded.
Melgil disengaged Galen instantly and turned her blade on Thalen. Dane found himself facing Ormin, the strong, instinctive fighter. Ysil now clashed with Galen, speed meeting careful timing. Lora darted through the battlefield, trying to keep track of the shifting pairs, her voice struggling to keep up.
Mistakes were made. Spacing broke. Patterns fell apart.
Daniel took a close strike to the shoulder but caught it just in time. Ormin came at him like a beast, but Daniel calmly redirected the force instead of resisting it head-on. Ysil was driving Galen back, until he cleverly used the nearby post to spring forward and break her rhythm. Melgil forced Thalen to step awkwardly by disrupting his spear's timing.
Then
Two sharp claps.
"Stop."
The training hall fell into silence, save for the sound of heavy breathing and sweat dripping onto the floor.
Matheo's eyes swept over them, hard and thoughtful.
"You learned something just now," he said quietly. "You learned that even a strong team can fall apart if it doesn't adapt."
He turned to Lora.
"You didn't fight, but you were essential. Why?"
Lora, catching her breath, answered, "Because I saw what they didn't."
Matheo gave a rare nod. "Exactly. The observer turns chaos into coordination."
He glanced at the group. "This is why your Combat Earning Points matter. Not for glory. Not to brag. But because they prove you can enter danger and learn, not just swing a weapon."
Just then, the door creaked open.
Everyone turned.
In stepped Professor Finch Larenthanil, his gray robe trailing behind him like drifting mist. His silver-rimmed spectacles caught the light as he looked over the group, quiet pride glinting in his eyes.
"Good," he said softly. "You're still standing. That's a fine start."
Matheo nodded once and stepped aside, allowing Finch to address them.
Finch looked toward Daniel, then at the seven as a whole.
"I heard about the quest."
Daniel didn't answer. He simply gave a short, respectful nod.
Finch addressed everyone now. His voice was calm but clear, sharp as any blade.
"The Royal Guild won't go easy on you just because you're students. The creatures you'll face in the Hallowtree Sector don't care about ranks. They care about how many come back alive."
He raised a small, black notebook, then lowered it again.
"You won't always have time to prepare. Monsters don't wait for perfect stances or memorized spells. They attack the moment you hesitate. They kill when you assume."
One by one, he looked at each of them.
"You're beginning the path of the Silver-Bound. Few walk it. Fewer survive it. But those who do... they stand between chaos and civilization, not for money, not for praise, but because someone has to. That's why I'm proud of you."
He paused.
Then his gaze returned to Daniel.
"And that's why I expect more from you than anyone else."
He took a slow step forward, his eyes narrowing just slightly behind his silver spectacles.
"I can clearly see," Finch said, voice low, "that you could defeat all of them at once if you wanted to."
The room didn't react. No shock. No denial. Because somewhere, deep down, they all knew it too.
Finch studied Daniel with the sharpness of someone who'd spent a lifetime reading people, not just their faces, but the truths buried beneath their silence.
"You're not just talented. You're intentional," he continued. "The way you move, it's not reaction. It's strategy. Every step, every pause, every strike... all of it has purpose."
Daniel remained still, his face unreadable.
Finch's tone softened slightly, but the weight in his words never dropped.
"That kind of precision doesn't come from instinct alone. It comes from something deeper. Something trained... or lived."
He let that thought hang in the air.
Then he gave a small nod, as if confirming something silently to himself.
"But remember this, Daniel: strength without restraint becomes danger, and brilliance without humility becomes blindness. The question isn't can you surpass them; it's will you still stand with them when it matters most?"
Daniel answered after a moment, voice calm and quiet:
"I will."
Finch smiled faintly, just enough to be real.
"Then make sure they believe it too."
With that, he turned and exited the hall once more, the echo of his footsteps fading into the stillness.
This time, no one said a word.
Because they all understood:
Daniel wasn't just another student.
He was the kind of person who could decide the outcome of a battlefield.
if he chose to.
Finch nodded once. Then his tone lightened just a bit.
"Tonight, rest. Eat something better than rations. And think. Because tomorrow, the world stops treating you like students."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, the door closing softly behind him.
Silence remained.
Until Daniel spoke.
"Form up. We're doing the switch-up drill five more times."
There were tired groans, but no one refused.
Because they all knew:
Tomorrow wasn't another lesson.
It was real. And they had to be ready.