The dining hall of the academy smelled of stale bread and iron. Recruits crowded the long tables, their laughter and shouts filling the cavernous room. Plates clattered, mugs banged against each other. At the far end, the stronger students clustered in packs—nobles, prodigies, loud voices that demanded to be heard.
Asher Ernstein sat alone, his glasses catching the torchlight. He chewed slowly, mechanically, eyes lowered to his plate. To anyone watching, he was forgettable—a shadow at the edge of the hall.
That should have been enough. But it wasn't.
"Mind if I sit?"
A girl with silver hair lowered herself across from him before waiting for his answer. She pushed her bread around on her plate without eating it. Her eyes, pale and unfocused, flicked toward him. "You don't talk much. I like that."
Asher said nothing.
Another voice interrupted. "Oi, scoot over."
A broad-shouldered boy dropped his tray beside Asher and grinned sheepishly. "Name's Ronan. Ronan Holt. I, uh… kinda get the feeling you don't like people, but...um.... bro, sitting alone makes you stand out more, you know? At least if you're with us, the strong ones won't notice you."
Asher lifted his gaze just enough to meet his eyes, then lowered it again. "...Right."
"See? He talks." Ronan grinned wider, as if he'd won a battle.
A sharp laugh followed. A black-haired girl flopped onto the bench, tossing a dagger onto the table with a casual flick. "Selene Marris," she said. "If Ronan's annoying, just say the word. I'll stab him."
"You wouldn't," Ronan said nervously.
"I might." She smirked.
Asher adjusted his glasses, expression unreadable.
The last of the intruders arrived quietly, sliding onto the bench without fanfare. He was lean, sharp-featured, with tired eyes that mirrored Asher's own. Two daggers hung at his belt. "Kael," he said simply. "Kael Draven. Don't mind them—they're idiots. But idiots can be useful."
"Hey!" Ronan protested.
Kael ignored him, taking a slow sip of water.
For the first time, Asher spoke clearly. "Why me?"
Iris looked up from her untouched bread. "Because you're… like us."
Ronan nodded eagerly. "Yeah. The nobles look down on us. The instructors ignore us. We're weak, right? But at least we're weak together."
Selene snorted. "Touching. Next thing you know, Ronan'll be holding hands."
"Shut up, Selene."
Their bickering earned a faint twitch at the corner of Asher's mouth. Not a smile—just movement.
"Asher," Iris said suddenly, her pale eyes on him. "That's your name, isn't it? Asher Ernstein?"
The table quieted.
Asher set down his spoon, his gaze hidden behind the reflection of his glasses.
"Yes," he said softly. "Asher Ernstein."
*****
The dungeon stank of damp earth and old blood.
The five recruits stood just beyond the iron gate, torches in hand. The stone walls stretched into blackness, etched with claw marks. Far above, the academy bell tolled once—sealing them in.
"Remind me why we're doing this..." Selene asked.
"Because we need credits you dullard," Kael answered sharply.
Ronan Holt shifted his sword nervously from hand to hand. "So… first hunt. This isn't so bad, right? I mean, we're only on the first floor. They said goblins, maybe wolves. Nothing crazy."
"Keep your voice down," Kael muttered. His daggers glinted faintly in the torchlight. "Noise carries down here."
Selene snorted. "Oh no. What if the scary goblins hear us? They'll throw twigs at us."
"Better than them throwing your guts across the floor," Kael shot back.
"Both of you, stop." Iris' voice was soft, strained. She clutched her staff tighter, pale hands trembling. Her silver hair caught the flicker of the torchlight as she glanced at the shadows ahead. "Something's already watching us."
Ronan froze. "Don't—don't say that."
They all turned slightly, waiting for Asher's response. He leaned against the wall, glasses reflecting the firelight, face unreadable.
"…She's right." His voice was flat.
Ronan swore under his breath.
The group pressed forward, boots scraping against damp stone. Their torches barely pushed back the darkness. Every sound was magnified—the drip of water, the hiss of unseen vermin.
A growl echoed down the corridor.
"Formation!" Kael barked, his voice tight. "Warrior front, mages middle, rogues flank."
Ronan stumbled into position, raising his sword awkwardly. Selene slid to the shadows with forced bravado, while Iris raised her staff, lips trembling around an unfinished incantation.
From the dark, three goblins shuffled into view—jagged teeth, yellow eyes, crude blades in hand.
"Just goblins," Selene whispered. "Finally, something we can—"
The first one lunged.
Ronan panicked, swinging too wide. His blade scraped stone, missing the creature entirely. The goblin cackled, slashing at his side—only for Kael's dagger to intercept.
"Focus!" Kael snapped.
The second goblin darted toward Iris. Her spell sputtered—sparks and nothing more. Her eyes widened in terror.
Asher moved before he thought. A rock, kicked from the floor, struck the goblin square in the face. It hissed, stumbling just long enough for Selene to dart forward and drive her dagger into its chest.
"Got it!" Selene shouted, her grin shaky.
The third goblin charged her from behind.
Asher's hand twitched, his aura threatening to flare. But Kael was quicker, dragging Selene out of reach and stabbing the creature down.
Breathing hard, the group looked at the three corpses bleeding onto the stone.
Ronan wiped his brow. "See? That wasn't so bad."
"You almost got gutted," Selene said dryly.
"You froze too," Kael snapped at her.
"Better than swinging like a drunk ox!"
Their bickering filled the corridor again. Only irs was silent, staring at Asher. Her pale eyes lingered on him just a second too long, as if she'd noticed the rock at the goblin's feet.
Asher adjusted his glasses calmly, expression blank.
Hours dragged by. They fought more goblins, a stray wolf crossed their path which they managed to get by. Every fight ended the same way—panic, clumsy strikes, narrow escapes. Each time, Asher nudged fate just enough to keep them alive. A stone kicked here, a shove there, a muttered warning no one else caught.
But never enough to reveal himself.
By the time they collapsed in a small cavern to rest, their torches sputtering low, the misfits looked ready to break.
Ronan slumped against the wall. "I can't… feel my arms. I think I'm dying."
"You're just sore," Kael muttered, cleaning his daggers.
Selene flopped onto the floor with a groan. "If this is the first floor, I don't even want to think about the second."
Iris sat quietly, her staff resting on her lap. She finally looked at Asher again. "You haven't said much."
Asher met her gaze, calm and unreadable. "…There's nothing worth saying."
That silenced them all for a moment.
Then Ronan chuckled weakly. "You know, Asher Ernstein… you might be the weirdest one of us."
Asher leaned back against the cold stone, glasses glinting.
"Maybe."
He closed his eyes, listening to their voices, their flaws, their fear. His perception ability allowed him to listen to their hearts. To them, they were comrades. To him, they were data—living examples of weakness, struggle, survival instinct.
Observatory material.
Yet as their laughter slowly rose again, brittle but real, a faint crack stirred in the armor he wore around himself.
For just a moment, he almost felt… human.
*****
The clang of steel echoed faintly across the academy's training grounds. Students sparred beneath the pale sun, blades flashing, spells sparking, and cheers erupting with every decisive strike. Among the crowd of laughing, jeering hunters-in-training, Lilith Veyra sat perfectly still, her violet hair catching the light like silk.
Her classmates thought she was watching the duels, but her attention was fixed elsewhere.
Asher Ernstein.