The old professor stood in perfect stillness before his only student.
"The expedition begins in a month," he said calmly. "A portal will be charged in the university's rear courtyard. It will send you… to a random ruin."
Rolin frowned.
"A random ruin? You don't know where it will send us?"
The old man exhaled and slowly circled his desk, the tap of his wooden cane striking the floor like a quiet metronome.
"No. No one does. The portal chooses."
Rolin's brows knit together. "Then how do you know it sends us to ruins at all?"
"For the past twenty years," the professor replied, "every activation has led to ruins. Without exception."
He stopped walking.
No movement.
No turning back.
As if the next question… was not meant to be asked.
The silence thickened.
Even Likath, who usually mocked everything, did not speak.
The professor finally lifted his head. The curiosity that once filled his eyes was gone. What remained was something darker.
"Before that," he said quietly, "the portal did not send students anywhere."
Rolin's heart skipped.
"…What do you mean?"
"It was activated."
"It was charged with aether."
The professor closed his eyes briefly.
"But it did not open to a destination."
A chill ran down Rolin's spine.
"What happened to them?"
The old man turned.
"They vanished."
One word.
Heavy. Final.
"No bodies," he continued. "No traces. Nothing."
He gripped his cane tighter.
"And after that… the portal stopped functioning for years."
A pause.
"When it began working again… it started sending everyone to ruins."
Silence reclaimed the room.
"There's something wrong," Rolin said under his breath.
A faint smile touched the professor's lips.
"You are correct. But no one knows where the flaw lies."
He walked toward the door.
"That is why I told you from the beginning… what you know is not nearly enough."
The professor resumed pacing.
"There are three types of ruins."
His cane struck the ground once.
"The first type: Minor Ruins. Contained spaces. A visible exit portal or a governing creature. Defeat the ruler or locate the gate—you leave. The scale is manageable. The creatures range from Tier Two to slightly above."
He turned.
"The second type sends you into the outside world itself."
Rolin listened carefully.
"You may arrive in territory controlled by humans. Reach a shelter, and you survive."
The professor drank deeply from a flask and flicked it back onto the desk with a subtle gesture of aether.
"Or you may be sent to regions feared by both humans and other races. In such cases, you must flee into another domain… defeat the regional overlord… or locate a broken portal and repair it."
Rolin's jaw tightened.
"And the third type?"
The professor stopped.
His voice lowered.
"The one the university does not like."
A bead of sweat slid down Rolin's neck.
"Why?"
"Because it does not obey the laws of this world."
He turned fully now.
"No maps."
"No records."
"No survivors to question."
One step forward.
"Places never documented."
"Never recorded."
"Never even mentioned in myth."
His gaze sharpened.
"Land untouched by human feet."
"The remains of a dead world."
"Or something… that does not belong to existence at all."
Rolin swallowed.
"How do you leave?"
A humorless smile.
"That question kills most of them."
He resumed walking.
"There may be no visible portal."
"No ruling monster."
"No guarantee that violence is the solution."
He raised a finger in warning.
"Sometimes the ruler is a concept."
"Sometimes a location."
"Sometimes… you."
A genuine shiver passed through Rolin.
At the doorway, the professor rested his hand on the handle.
"If you are sent there… forget what you've learned."
"Forget bravery."
"Forget strength."
His voice turned deathly calm.
"And remember only this—"
"Escape… is not guaranteed."
Rolin's voice was steady, though his heart pounded.
"If no one returned… how do you know about the third type?"
The professor did not answer immediately.
"Retrieval," he finally said. "We recovered objects. Fragments of memory bound to lingering magic."
His expression softened slightly.
"One of them was my student. Reno. He was sent there a year ago."
Rolin clenched his fists.
"If the portal is this dangerous… why send students at all?"
The professor looked at him with something close to sorrow.
"If you return alive," he said quietly, turning away, "I will tell you."
And he left.
Rolin stood alone.
The silence this time was different.
Heavier.
The walls themselves seemed to hold secrets.
Likath emerged slowly from Rolin's chest, crimson-black flames flickering along his small frame.
"Roli…"
His voice lacked its usual mischief.
"If the third type is real… we're not preparing for monsters."
A pause.
"We're preparing for something we cannot understand."
A month.
Not to master the sword.
Not to sharpen reflexes.
But to sharpen his mind.
Sometimes the ruler is a concept.
Sometimes a place.
Sometimes… you.
"If escape isn't guaranteed," Rolin muttered, "then I'll create my own."
He approached the professor's desk. Maps lined the walls. Records of expeditions filled shelves. Survival manuals. Ecological studies. Ancient world charts.
The university wasn't just testing students.
It was searching.
Something had happened twenty years ago.
The portal had swallowed them.
Then it returned.
What if the ruins were merely a surface layer?
What if the third type… was the truth?
Likath suddenly lifted his head.
"Roli."
"What?"
"If we come back alive…"
Silence lingered.
"…we won't be the same."
A faint smile curved Rolin's lips, though it never reached his eyes.
"Who said I plan to remain the same?"
He turned toward the door.
One month.
He would train.
Study environments.
Prepare for deserts, forests, frozen wastelands, dead cities, worlds without gravity, worlds without sky.
He would fill his storage with tools, food, medicine, traps—items he didn't even know he would need yet.
Because in a place without laws…
The survivor is not the strongest.
But the one most prepared for the impossible.
Rolin opened the door.
And took his first step—not toward glory.
Not toward heroism.
But toward survival.