The atmosphere around them thickened as the giant feline landed, its paws sinking deep into the snow. Frost scattered from the impact, a low rumble escaping its throat—a growl so deep it felt like the ground itself was warning anyone foolish enough to move.

  Kana’s instincts kicked in, dagger half-drawn before she recognized the blur that leapt from the beast’s back.

  “Mica?” Kana said.

  The great feline purred—a guttural, thunderous sound—and began circling Kana, pressing its massive head against her side with surprising gentleness. The warmth of its fur melted the frost clinging to her boots.

  The girl landed lightly, brushing off a streak of snow with her glove. Her lips curved into a playful smirk. “Looks like Shai misses you a lot. I’m a bit jealous now.”

  Shai growled softly, as if apologizing.

  Mica sighed theatrically. “Too late,” she said.

  Kana’s lips curved upward. “You two haven’t changed,” she said.

  “Neither have you,” Mica replied, glancing at the sky. “What’s the occasion? Professor Terry told me Suri sent a message to meet you here together with the royal knights?”

  Kana pointed upward. “Ask him.”

  An eagle wheeled once against the clouded night, then folded its wings and dove. It shifted midair, feathers vanishing into flesh, wings collapsing into arms. Artin landed with the ease of someone used to falling from the sky.

  “We’re still waiting for two,” Artin said, brushing snow from his shoulder. “We’ll begin once they arrive.”

  He blinked, and his eyes shimmered gold for a brief moment—avian irises scanning far beyond their immediate range. Then his pupils narrowed back to human.

  “They’re close,” he said. “Finally.”

  Moments later, two figures broke through the endless snow. Their boots crunched over ice, breath fogging.

  The first strode forward, posture straight despite the climb. “I’m Ryle Greece, class is [Slayer].” he said, voice calm, controlled. His twin curved swords glinted under the dimming sunlight. The cut of his movements spoke of discipline and experience.

  The second stumbled in behind him, one hand clutching his side. “And I’m…” He paused, catching his breath, “Ger Link. [Scout].” His golden hair clung to sweat-damp skin, and the jingling of rings on his fingers seemed far too loud for the quiet woods.

  “It looks like we’re a bit late,” Ger said between gulps of air. “We had to stop a few times because—well—my lungs don’t like marathons.”

  Before anyone could respond, a shadow stretched unnaturally beneath Kana’s feet—and Lex rose out of it like ink thickening in water.

  “It doesn’t count,” Lex said dryly, showing his open palm toward Artin. “Ryle couldn’t run full speed.”

  Artin’s lips twitched. His sharp eyes darted to Ryle, assessing. After a pause, he sighed. “Alright. Fair enough. He looks like he could match Kana’s speed.”

  Lex smirked as Artin reluctantly dropped a few gold coins into his hand.

  “Since everyone’s here,” Artin said, clearing his throat, “let’s get to business.”

  The group gathered around the fire. Shai lowered its head beside Mica, ears twitching. Even the beast seemed to sense the shift in tone.

  “Ger,” Artin began, “we need your skill. You’ll chart every inch of the fortress once we're near the enemy’s garrison. The terrain, the number of rooms, everything.”

  Ger straightened a little, clearly proud despite the lingering exhaustion. “Got it.”

  “Mica,” Artin continued, “We suspect the area is protected with rune traps. Some will trigger alarms, others will kill outright. We’ll rely on your beast senses to detect them before they activate. I know your family trained your tamed beast to detect rune powered traps. We can’t afford to set off even one.”

  Mica nodded, hand brushing Shai’s mane. The beast’s eyes glowed faintly in acknowledgment.

  “Ryle, Kana,” Artin’s gaze hardened, “You’re the top close-range combatants in the academy. Your job is to protect this person at all costs. No mistakes. If one of them goes down, this mission fails.”

  Kana frowned slightly. “This person? Who exactly are we protecting?”

  Artin’s expression darkened. The fire’s reflection flickered across his eyes like molten gold.

  “The crown prince,” he said. “And his party.”

  The wind chose that moment to surge through the trees, scattering snow into spiraling white. The group stood in silence, the weight of those words settling like frost in their bones.

  Even Kana—steady, sharp, unflinching Kana—felt her pulse quicken.

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  So this was the real mission.

  Not just survival.

  Not just another dungeon.

  But a rescue that could decide the fate of the entire kingdom.

  …..

  Artin’s grin widened, the corners of his mouth twitching like a boy who’d just found something shiny to brag about. “Now,” he said, his tone bubbling with excitement, “you’ll understand why I picked this meeting place.”

  Before anyone could ask, his arms rippled—fur spreading across his forearms, fingers bending and extending until they resembled a monkey’s agile hands. With one swift leap, he caught a branch and swung upward, landing with the grace of something that had lived its whole life in trees. “Come here! You’ll want to see this.”

  Kana’s gaze followed him, brows furrowing. The massive feline beside her gave a deep, rumbling huff.

  “Shai will be a bit too heavy,” Kana said, glancing at the beast. Shai blinked once, slow and offended, then turned its head away with a sharp exhale through its nose.

  “I think you hurt her feelings,” Mica teased, grinning as she rolled her shoulders. “Let’s climb, shall we?”

  Kana lingered, watching Mica’s expensive gloves and polished light armor glint under the pale light. Does she even know how to climb? Kana thought.

  Ryle didn’t wait for the others. He stepped forward, grabbed the lowest branch, and scaled upward with smooth precision—each movement deliberate, controlled. The muscles in his arms flexed under his coat as he ascended.

  Mica followed, surprisingly nimble. Her movements weren’t as refined as Ryle’s, but they were confident and fast. Kana blinked, quietly impressed. She should be lower than level five. No way… her base stats must be off the charts.

  Kana went after them, hands cold from the bark but her movements light. A quick glance downward revealed Shai curling into a lazy ball of fur at the base of the tree, tail flicking rhythmically. The beast’s eyes shimmered gold for a moment before closing again. Can her tamed beast share its stats? Kana wondered. The possibility made her climb faster.

  When she reached the top, her breath caught. The world opened before her—a sprawling expanse of white and silver. Endless snow dunes shaped by the howling wind. The horizon shimmered faintly under the fading sun, where the light bent and danced like water. Far in the distance, a speck—a small, dark smudge against the snow.

  Kana narrowed her eyes. “That’s…”

  “The garrison,” Artin said, perched on a branch higher than them, his eyes gleaming like an eagle’s. “Where the crown prince is being held.”

  The sound of the wind filled the brief silence that followed.

  “It’s a good spot to see the enemy, right?” Artin said proudly.

  Mica squinted, raising her hand to her brow. “Uhm… I can’t see anything but a dot.”

  Artin laughed, sharp and carefree. “Right. That’s why we have a scout. Ger should be able to get some basic layout out of this..”

  Kana blinked, then frowned. “Wait—where’s Ger?”

  A strained voice answered from below, “Uhmmm… guys? I can’t climb…”

  They peered down. Ger stood at the base of the tree, waving weakly with one hand while the other rubbed his lower back. A large thud followed as he slipped again and landed on his rear in a puff of snow.

  Ryle didn’t say anything but forced a smile.

  Artin groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “By the gods…”

  Kana stifled a laugh, watching Ger glare at the trunk as if it had personally insulted him. His rings sparkled even as his fingers trembled from the cold.

  “Hey!” he shouted upward, his voice echoing faintly through the trees. “I’m better on flat ground, alright? Trees are my sworn enemy!”

  Mica snorted, and even Ryle cracked a grin.

  Artin chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m not sure now if your class is [Scout],” he said under his breath, “Never heard of a [Scout] class before who can’t climb a tree..”

  Kana smiled faintly, the tension in her chest easing for a moment. But even as laughter echoed softly through the cold wind, her gaze drifted back to that small dark speck on the horizon—the garrison.

  The smile faded.

  That’s where everything would change.

  ……

  It was not a tent.

  The building stood quietly against the white wilderness, half-buried by the northern wind. Thick stones layered with frost, windows small and shuttered, smoke from a narrow chimney vanishing into the endless gray sky. Inside, warmth battled the cold—a faint crackle of firelight, the scent of burning oak and dried herbs hanging in the air.

  A man sat behind a heavy table carved from dark wood. His black hair, long and tied loosely behind his head, framed a face lined with calm authority. A trimmed beard shadowed his jaw, and his eyes gleamed like steel under candlelight. Despite the biting chill that crept even through stone, he wore only a thin shirt and loose trousers, as though winter itself dared not touch him.

  A knock broke the stillness.

  “General!” came a voice, strained but respectful. “I have urgent news.”

  The man didn’t rise immediately. He let the wind echo once more through the cracks in the window, then stood, his movements unhurried. “Come in,” he said, voice deep and measured. “We have all the time in the world.”

  The door opened, letting in a slice of cold air and a soldier wrapped in furs. His face was pale from the wind, his breath visible. “Sir,” he began, bowing low. “The five Imperial Tails who were sent to assassinate the Gold Badge holder students—they have yet to return. All dungeon monsters under their command have already come back.”

  For a moment, the general said nothing. Only the sound of the fire filled the room, the wood hissing as if uneasy with the silence.

  “A pity,” he said finally, his tone calm, almost wistful. “My brothers—they were good at what they did. Efficient, silent, disciplined.”

  The soldier hesitated. “Do you believe… they were killed by the Gold Badgers? I heard the students are barely in their first year—fifteen, sixteen at most.”

  The general looked up slowly. His expression didn’t shift, but something sharp flickered in his gaze. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for his shirt and tore it open.

  The sound of cloth ripping echoed in the small room. Beneath the fabric, a jagged scar ran diagonally across his chest—pale and uneven, like a brand carved by lightning.

  “This,” he said softly, “Was from a Gold Badge holder. A student.” His voice was no longer calm. It held weight, the kind that bent the air around it. “I was young but already a full-grown man then…”

  He ran a calloused thumb along the scar. “Even I underestimated what they could do.”

  The soldier swallowed hard. “Forgive me, General.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” the general replied, his tone returning to that unnerving calm. “I thought five would be enough. I thought they’d be prepared. But I still underestimate their gold badge holders. I thought it was a bluff this time to make us.. hesitate.”

  He turned toward the window, eyes narrowing at the storm outside. The wind howled like a living thing, slamming against the stone.

  “Send word to the others,” he murmured. “If students could do this much… then they have to step in. Call them.”

  It was the same group who assassinated the last gold badge holder. They’d successfully kill him, a fully grown adult gold badge holder. Surely, a few students shouldn't be a problem at all.

  The soldier nodded quickly and left, the door closing behind him.

  The general stood in the dim firelight, hand still resting on the scar that refused to fade. The light from the hearth flickered across his face—revealing not anger, but something colder.

  “Young gold badge holders,” he whispered. “I now feel bad about those children.. They were born in the wrong place.”