A young man—no more than seventeen—stood alone in a secluded glade, the world holding its breath around him. Dew clung to the grass like scattered glass, trembling each time his foot shifted. Sweat gathered along his brow and slipped down the sharp line of his jaw, catching the pale gold of the morning light.
His sword moved again.
A sharp inhale—then a strike.
The blade cut through the air with a faint whistle, swift but uneven, its arc wavering at the end. He corrected, forced another swing, then another—faster now, almost frantic. Each motion chased perfection, yet stumbled just short of it. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening as the hilt bit into his palm.
Again.
Again.
The rhythm broke.
He exhaled sharply, breath rough, shoulders rising and falling as if he had been running instead of standing still. A faint tremor lingered in his arms. The silence of the glade pressed in—too quiet, too aware.
Unaware that somewhere beyond this stillness, fate had already begun to turn once more.
Footsteps approached, light but unhidden. Grass bent, twigs snapped softly under careless weight.
Ronan didn't notice until the sound came too close to ignore.
"Good morning, Ronan."
He turned abruptly, sword lowering halfway before he caught himself. His eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face as he took in the familiar group—Kairos, Tavin, Elenor, and Kellan—standing together at the edge of the clearing.
"…Good morning." His gaze swept over them again, slower this time. Then his brows knit together, disbelief creeping in. "What the hell?"
He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as if trying to peel back some hidden trick. "I haven't seen you guys for a few days… and suddenly you're all at Adept 1?"
Elenor didn't even try to hide her grin. She stepped forward and gave him a firm, teasing thump between the shoulder blades. "Even if we are, I doubt we could beat you at your precious Novice Four." She sighed dramatically, tilting her head back as if appealing to the heavens. "Life's unfair, isn't it?"
The impact made Ronan stagger half a step before he caught himself, a faint huff escaping him. He shot her a sideways glance, lips twitching despite himself.
Kellan chuckled under his breath, though the sound didn't last long. His expression shifted, something more serious settling in as he crossed his arms. "Actually… there's something important."
The tone alone was enough to still the lightness lingering in the air.
"Did you hear about the Dimensional Rifts linked to Serenwyn Academy?" Kellan continued. "They're saying Adept-level students will get access in about twenty days."
Tavin nodded, his gaze distant, already turning inward as if piecing together implications. "Yeah. I've heard the same. Those Rifts… they're not just training grounds. They're full of relics, rare materials—trials meant to break people." His eyes flicked toward Ronan. "Only the strong come out with anything."
Ronan's fingers curled slowly at his sides. The leather of his gloves creaked faintly under the pressure. Something sharp flickered in his eyes—not quite anger, not quite excitement.
"Then I'll just have to advance," he said, voice steady but carrying an edge beneath it. "Adept. As soon as possible."
He lifted his chin slightly, resolve settling into his posture like armour. "Don't worry. I'll join you."
Before anyone could respond, he turned. The decision had already taken root—there was no hesitation left in his steps as he moved past them, quick and purposeful.
"For now, I'm heading to the library. See you."
The group watched him go, the faint sound of his footsteps fading into the trees.
Elenor's smile lingered, though it softened at the edges. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Is everything okay with him?" she asked, glancing at Kairos. "He seemed… off. Too cheerful."
Kairos shrugged, though the motion felt incomplete, like he didn't quite believe it himself. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away. "Who knows? That guy's always been hard to read."
Tavin shifted, arms crossing as he leaned slightly on one foot. "Where's Samantha?"
Kairos glanced back at him. "Mission. She said she'd be back in six to ten days."
Kellan scratched the back of his head, uncertainty tugging at his expression. "Do you really think he can advance that fast?"
Elenor laughed—bright, confident, almost effortless. "Oh, he will." She folded her arms, grin widening. "That's just how Ronan is."
Kellan frowned. "You sound way too sure."
Tavin's lips curved faintly. "You've known him for two years," he said, voice calm, measured. "Haven't you noticed?"
Kellan hesitated, then gave a small nod.
"Ronan doesn't follow anyone," Tavin continued. "No heroes. No legends. He watches, studies… then chooses what works for him." His gaze lingered in the direction Ronan had gone. "That's why he's dangerous."
Kairos let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "Dangerous is one way to put it. His ideas are ridiculous half the time." He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "But somehow… they work."
Silence settled over them again, heavier this time—not uncomfortable, but filled with thought.
Elenor broke it with a grin. "Guess we'll just have to see what insane plan he comes up with next."
After a few more idle exchanges, they drifted apart, each carrying the same unspoken anticipation—the Rifts looming ahead like a promise… or a threat.
Ronan moved quickly along the stone path toward the academy, but his thoughts moved faster.
Four classifications.
Novice. Adept. Master. Grandmaster.
Each step echoed faintly under his boots, the sound blending with the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Novice—four levels. Adept—six. Master—nine. Grandmaster—twelve.
His jaw tightened.
I'm stuck.
Novice Four.
His fingers curled again, nails pressing into his palm hard enough to sting.
Not enough.
The word lingered, heavy and unwelcome.
He exhaled slowly, forcing the tension down, but it didn't disappear—it settled deeper instead, sharpening into something more focused.
I can't stay here.
His pace quickened.
I won't.
Night fell quietly over the academy.
A dim lantern flickered in the corridor, its light casting long, uneven shadows along the walls. The air carried the faint scent of old wood and cooling stone.
Ronan leaned against the doorframe of Kairos's room, one shoulder pressed into the wood, arms loosely crossed. His voice came low, almost blending into the hush.
"I'm heading out tomorrow morning."
Kairos, seated cross-legged on his bed with a book open in his hands, froze mid-page. His eyes lifted slowly, confusion flickering into surprise.
"…What?"
"Hunting," Ronan added, pushing off the frame and stepping inside. "With Ms. Amara."
Kairos blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. Then his brows shot up. "Wait—what? Since when does that happen?"
A faint smirk tugged at Ronan's lips. "Since I asked her how to improve my flame control."
Kairos tilted his head, disbelief plain on his face. "And she just… agreed?"
Ronan shrugged, casual on the surface, though his fingers briefly brushed the back of his neck—a small, betraying gesture. "Not exactly. She told me to practice with Beast Flame."
Kairos straightened slightly, the book slipping from his hands onto the bed with a soft thud. "Beast Flame?"
Concern crept into his voice, tightening it. "Ronan… you're still at Novice. Absorbing flame cores isn't exactly safe."
"I know." Ronan's gaze shifted, just for a second. "But low-grade beasts aren't that dangerous."
The words came too quickly.
He pushed forward before Kairos could respond. "I told her it's basically impossible for me to get something like that right now. So she offered—if they find any low-grade Beast Flame, I can use it." He exhaled, a flicker of excitement breaking through. "If Ms. Amara's taking me along, it means I'll be fine."
Kairos stared at him, long and steady. The silence stretched.
"…And you're just going to walk into a beast's territory?" he said finally, voice quieter now. "Do you even know what you'll be facing?"
Ronan shrugged again, but it lacked the same ease. "Whatever it takes." His eyes hardened slightly. "You know I can't fall behind."
"Yeah, but at what cost?"
Kairos stood, the movement abrupt enough to make the bed creak. He stepped closer, closing the distance between them.
"You don't get to throw yourself into danger every time you feel like you're not enough," he said, voice low but firm.
Ronan's smirk faded.
For a moment, he didn't answer. His gaze dropped, shadows pooling beneath his eyes as he looked away.
"You don't get it," he muttered. "I need this."
The words came out quieter than before.
He shifted, turning slightly toward the door. "If Samantha comes back before I do… just help me cover, alright?"
Kairos's expression softened, though the worry didn't leave. "When?"
"Early. Before sunrise."
A pause.
"…Don't tell anyone," Ronan added. "Not until I'm back."
Kairos let out a long breath, shoulders sagging slightly. "Fine." He rubbed the back of his neck, frustration slipping through. "But you better come back in one piece."
Ronan smiled faintly—small, but real. "I will."
He stepped toward the door, then hesitated. "Thanks… brother."
As he turned, Kairos spoke again, quieter this time—but the words carried weight.
"Ronan."
He stopped, hand resting against the doorframe.
"You don't have to prove anything," Kairos said. "Not to me. Not to Samantha."
Silence.
For a brief moment, Ronan didn't move.
Then he glanced back over his shoulder, a faint, bittersweet curve touching his lips.
"Good night, Kairos."
The door closed with a soft click.
Kairos stood there for a while, staring at it. The room felt emptier somehow, the silence heavier than before.
He sat back down slowly, the book still lying open beside him, forgotten.
"…Be careful, Ronan," he murmured, voice barely more than breath.