The heavy, suffocating air of the lecture hall vanished the moment they stepped through the massive oak doors of the academy. The group walked toward the edge of the campus, where the manicured lawns gave way to the ancient, towering trees of the Starfall Forest.
The training grounds were a vast expanse of dirt and reinforced stone, nestled right against the treeline. It was the perfect place for things to get messy.
Serena took a deep breath of the pine-scented air, trying to shake off the image of a "Guest in Yellow" and a dead continent. She glanced over at Layla, who was practically vibrating with energy, her hand resting habitually on the hilt of her training blade.
"Looks like your favorite class is finally here," Serena said with a faint smile. "You ready to actually hit something, or are you just going to bounce around all morning?"
Layla smirked, her eyes scanning the weapon racks being set up by the forest edge. "Finally. I was starting to think this school was just a very expensive book club. I'm dying to see what they consider 'advanced combat' here."
Serena chuckled, then lowered her voice slightly as they walked. "Well, don't get too ahead of yourself. You know the rumors, right? Word is, the interim professor for this block is Ben's older brother."
Michael, who had been trailing just a step behind them, didn't miss a beat. He leaned over, nudging Ben with a playful shoulder check. "Oh, we know. Ben's been counting down the minutes for days. Haven't you, Ben? Ready to be the teacher's pet?"
Ben caught his balance, scowling at Michael, though there was no real heat in it. He looked toward the training grounds where a familiar, slouching figure was already standing near a rack of practice spears.
"I'm excited to see him," Ben admitted, his voice a mix of pride and genuine apprehension. "But knowing him, he's probably going to make this as difficult as possible—or he won't take it seriously at all."
As the students reached the clearing, the atmosphere shifted. Henry wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a man who looked like he'd been plucked straight from a battlefield and dropped into the academy.
He was silver-haired and rugged, with a nonchalant edge that bordered on reckless. He wore a weathered grey duster over soot-stained leathers, his heavy combat boots caked in the dust of the training grounds. While Henry looked tired, this man looked dangerous—like a fire that was currently contained but ready to roar.
The murmurs among the students started instantly. They knew that face. They knew that stance.
The man turned his gaze toward the approaching crowd, his eyes scanning the freshmen until they locked onto Ben. A sharp, predatory smirk tugged at his lips.
"Still trailing at the back of the pack, I see," the man called out, his voice a gravelly bark. "How have you been, monkey boy? Have you finally become stronger than me, or are you still tripping over your own feet?"
Ben let out a long, weary sigh, though a small spark of pride flickered in his eyes. "I'm doing fine, Caspian. And for your information, I'm halfway there."
Henry chuckled, leaning back against a weapon rack. "Everyone, meet Caspian Thorne. He'll be joining me in making your lives miserable for the next few months. He's here to handle the practical combat applications."
Caspian turned to Henry, clapping a heavy, soot-stained hand on his shoulder. "I have to say, seeing you as a student last year was the funniest thing I had seen all year. How long were you going to keep up the charade, Henry? Pretending to be a second-year student when you're three years older than these kids and—dare I say—slightly overqualified?"
Henry didn't even blink at the call-out. He just gave a lazy shrug. "It was the Headmistress's idea, not mine. But look at the bright side: I have been upgraded to being a instructor. So now that we're officially 'colleagues,' it'll be a lot easier to grab a drink. I was getting tired of explaining why a student was drinking with the faculty every night."
Caspian grinned, his silver hair catching the morning sun. "True enough. Professionalism was never our strong suit anyway."
The students stood in a stunned semi-circle, the silence of the forest only broken by the occasional rustle of leaves. Seeing Henry—the "lazy teacher"—and Caspian—the "rugged veteran"—exchanging jokes like old war buddies was a massive reality check. The gap between their expectations and the reality of their instructors was widening by the second.
Caspian stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching on the dry earth. He let his gaze drift over the crowd, his smirk fading into a look of cold, professional assessment.
"Listen up," Caspian began, his voice dropping into a low, steady rumble. "Let's start by being honest. On paper, you're the elite. You're the 'Hero' generation. But out here? In a real fight? Most of you are still amateurs. You have the power, but you don't have the scars."
He sighed, running a hand through his messy silver hair. "Look, there isn't much of a gap between us in years. Henry and I are twenty-two. Most of you are eighteen or nineteen. Three or four years—that's it. But in those four years, we didn't sit in lecture halls. We lived a lifetime's worth of violence. You need to realize that the difference between your life and ours isn't time—it's experience."
Henry chimed in, leaning casually against a stone pillar. "It's not entirely your fault. As Heroes, you're rare. You're strategic assets. Losing even one of you is a catastrophe for the continent—maybe even the world. Because of that, you've been wrapped in cotton wool. Most of you were protected, kept behind walls, trained in 'controlled' environments."
He looked at Serena, then at the Remington twins. "I can't say that applies to every single one of you, but on some level, you've all been shielded from the true face of the world. You've been taught how to win, but not how to survive when winning isn't an option."
Caspian let out a short, dry chuckle, breaking the heavy tension. "But hey, don't look so miserable. That's why we're here. This academy isn't just about passing tests anymore. We're going to make sure that by the time you leave this clearing, you're ready for whatever nightmare of a world throws at you."
Caspian stepped into the center of the clearing, the loose soil puffing up around his heavy boots. He rolled his shoulders, the leather of his duster creaking as he looked over the group with a sharp, predatory glint in his eyes.
"Alright, listen up," Caspian barked, his voice cutting through the morning mist. "The history lesson is over. Now we're going to see what's actually under the hood. I don't care about your family names, and I certainly don't care about how many trophies you've won in state-sanctioned tournaments."
He drew a long, jagged line in the dirt with the toe of his boot, dividing the clearing in two.
"We're moving into the assessment phase. We're going to test your output, your reflexes, and your resolve. Henry and I aren't here to give you a 'one-size-fits-all' workout. We're here to strip you down to the basics. We'll find your strengths, sure, but more importantly, we're going to find the cracks in your foundation—the weaknesses that a Void-beast would use to turn you into a snack."
He looked at them, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.
"Consider this a diagnostic. By the time we're done today, we'll know exactly how to rebuild you. Now, who's going to be the first 'Hero' to step across this line and show me if your power is as loud as your reputation?"