The sun hadn't even breached the horizon when a sharp, rhythmic knock rattled Ren's heavy oak door. He pulled himself out of bed, his muscles still aching from the midnight sparring session. When he opened the door, a royal guard stood at attention, holding a thick parchment sealed with the crimson wax crest of the Commander.
Ren took it, his heart hammering against his ribs. He broke the seal and unfolded the heavy paper.
As his eyes scanned the sharp, aggressive handwriting, Captain Valdorn's gravelly voice seemed to echo in his mind, narrating the exact instructions.
"Takashi," Valdorn's written words began, dripping with exhausted resignation. "If you are reading this, it means I haven't come to my senses and burned your requisition form. Your request to deploy to the Gore-Tooth Ravine is approved."
The scene in Ren's mind shifted, painting a picture of what must have happened in the King's study just hours prior.
"You authorized an A-Grade anomaly without consulting me?!" King Aldric's voice would have echoed off the marble walls. The King was an arrogant, manipulative bastard, but he wasn't stupid. He paced the room, his royal robes swishing violently. "They are my assets, Valdorn! You think I just want to breed the boy for fun? If the Hero dies out there, the Kingdom's hope dies with him! And whose head does that fall on? Mine! The blood of this world will be on my crown, you arrogant fool!"
Aldric had stopped, rubbing his temples, a twisted kind of protective panic in his eyes. He needed them alive. His entire legacy depended on it. "Fine. If they go, they go prepared. Squeeze the treasury. Give them gold. Give them whatever they need. Just make sure those kids don't die on my watch."
Ren smiled faintly at the letter and continued reading.
"First rule," Valdorn's voice took over the narrative again as the scene shifted to the castle courtyard later that morning. "You are forbidden from deploying as a massive unit of fifteen. Did you learn nothing from the beginner dungeon? A platoon-sized group vibrating with your chaotic Earth mana is basically ringing a dinner bell for every apex predator in a five-mile radius. You will break into squads of four to six bodies. No exceptions."
In the dusty courtyard, total chaos erupted as the students started drafting their teams.
Daigo was physically dragging a protesting Riku by the collar of his jacket. "You're with us, gremlin!" Daigo boomed.
Rika sauntered over to Ren, popping a piece of candy into her mouth and hooking an arm around his neck. "Guess we're the frontline, huh?" she mumbled, looking entirely unbothered. Itsuki simply walked over and stood beside them, adjusting his glasses. That was Squad One: Ren [Hero], Daigo [Vanguard], Itsuki [Sage], Rika [Rogue], and Riku [Artificer]. They had zero healing, pure grit, and enough DPS to level a mountain.
Across the yard, Reiji Narukami was organizing the most structurally sound group of the bunch. Squad Two: Reiji [Paladin], Ayaka [Saintess], Sayaka [Sorceress], Mei [Lancer], and Hinata [Assassin]. They were the textbook RPG party—balanced, heavily armored, and practically unkillable with Ayaka's healing.
Finally, the leftovers banded together into a terrifyingly volatile mix. Squad Three: Hanae [Shield Mage], Toru [Pyromancer], Yui [Monk], Noa [Summoner], and Toby [Squire]. A group completely reliant on Toby's buffs and Hanae's shields to keep Toru from accidentally blowing them all up while Noa painted earth-logic monsters into existence.
"Second rule," the letter continued. "You are not going out there as 'Royal Emissaries.' You are going as meat in the grinder. Report to the Adventurer's Guild in the lower ring. Register. Get your copper tags. You need to learn how the absolute scum of this world operate if you want to survive them."
The visual shifted to the lower ring of the capital. Daigo pushed open the heavy, rotting wooden doors of the Adventurer's Guild. The smell hit them like a physical wall—stale ale, sweat, and dried blood. The loud, raucous noise of the tavern died instantly. Dozens of hardened, scarred mercenaries turned to stare at the fifteen pristine teenagers standing in the doorway.
Ren didn't flinch. He walked straight up to the counter, ignoring a massive Orcish fighter who sneered at his clean jacket, and slammed his royal writ down. "Registration. For fifteen."
"Third rule," Valdorn's letter read. "I squeezed enough gold out of the King's panic to fund you. Each of you has a pouch. You will not use the pristine, ceremonial garbage the castle blacksmith gave you. It looks pretty, but it shatters. Go to the market. Buy gear that has actually seen blood."
The afternoon became a blur of haggling, steel, and commerce.
Heavy pouches of gold coins hit wooden tables across the market district. Daigo stood in front of a grumpy Dwarven armorer, tossing aside a polished silver chest plate for a massive, heavily dented iron pauldron. It was ugly, scarred by claw marks, but it was three inches thick.
Itsuki was in a dimly lit arcane shop, ignoring the glowing, expensive elemental scrolls to trade his gold for a stack of thick, weathered, leather-bound grimoires that smelled like ozone. Rika was leaning over a shady merchant's stall, casually buying a bandolier of throwing knives dipped in a low-grade paralyzing neurotoxin, paying no mind to the merchant's nervous sweating.
Riku was practically screaming at a vendor over the price of raw explosive powder and kinetic dampening springs.
Ren found himself in a quiet, dusty weapons shop. He bypassed the glowing magical swords on the wall and picked up a worn, steel longsword with a scuffed leather grip. He gave it a practice swing. The balance was perfect. It wasn't a magic weapon. It was a killer's tool.
"Buy potions. Buy bandages," Valdorn's letter concluded, the final paragraph written with a heavy, forceful hand. "Because out there, your shiny blue UI windows won't stitch up a severed artery. This is not a game anymore. The system will not hold your hand in an A-Grade anomaly. Prepare properly. Cover each other's blind spots. Prove to me that I wasn't a goddamn fool for signing this paper."
Ren folded the letter and tucked it into his jacket.
"Grow up, survive, and become the heroes you are meant to be."
The montage ended at the massive iron gates of the capital city. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the cobblestones. The shattered moon, Lua, hung in the sky behind the Atmospheric Barrier.
The fifteen students of Class 3-G stood at the threshold. They didn't look like royal guests anymore. They were covered in mismatched, scarred armor. They smelled like cheap leather, iron, and alchemical powder. Copper Adventurer tags hung from their necks, clinking softly in the wind.
Ren looked back at Squad One. Daigo cracked his massive knuckles. Rika was spinning a poisoned knife around her finger, staring blankly at her phone screen out of habit. Itsuki was already reading his new grimoire, and Riku was aggressively loading a volatile-looking cartridge into a custom bracer.
They were a mess. But they were ready.
"Alright," Ren said, his voice steady, stepping past the iron gates and onto the dirt road leading toward the Gore-Tooth Ravine. "Let's go find out what our limits are."