Two years later.
At the mouth of a dungeon stood a tall, pale-blond elf whose lean, hardened muscles spoke of years of relentless training in dexterity and agility.
His combat robes clung neatly under light leather armor, every piece tailored for mobility and survival.
Around him gathered other elven teens, grouped in teams of four, outfitted in their own varied sets of armor.
"The rules are simple."
The commanding voice came from beside the dungeon gates, where instructors and academy staff stood.
Behind them, rows of healers waited in medic tents, while monitoring equipment hummed softly, ready to track every mana signal inside.
"Each team will be transported into separate zones the moment you step in," the instructor continued.
Aeon watched intently.
The man was huge—1.9 meters tall, muscles packed tight over his frame.
He carried an aura so domineering that even standing still, he seemed ready to break the earth beneath him.
"Stay together when entering. The bracelets you've been issued will keep you linked once inside, but if someone enters late, they won't be pulled with you.
"Each bracelet records monsters slain. F-rank earns one point, E-rank earns two, and D-rank earns five. Your team's total rank depends on your combined scores.
"And remember—anything below twenty points is an automatic fail."
Silence followed his words.
"…Am I the only one scared out of my mind?" Beren Zylkian, Aeon's blond-haired friend, spoke up with a shaky laugh.
They'd known each other since first year.
"Relax," Amarie Eigarwyn said, though her turquoise eyes betrayed her nerves. "It's only an E-rank dungeon. The chance of D-rank monsters showing up is… small. I think."
Aeon chuckled. His team's jitters were obvious, but so was their growth. In two years, their skills, composure, and presence had sharpened into something resembling real adventurers.
Isode, though, had changed the most. The once clingy, cheerful girl now stood tall, silver hair framing a cold, ethereal face. Her eyes looked carved from ice, unblinking, eternal.
"Other groups are already inside. Let's move," Aeon said, drawing his blade.
Isode, their unofficial leader, led them forward. Her diamond-like longsword gleamed faintly under the light.
Beren carried a sword and shield,
Amarie kept her bow ready, and though they lacked a mage, Isode's sheer mana output filled that gap.
Aeon himself played both healer and frontline assault.
Together, they balanced each other.
Stepping past the threshold, Aeon was swallowed by a burst of white light.
When his sight returned, he immediately scanned the new terrain.
The air was heavy with mana, denser yet more chaotic than outside. Rough stone walls and jagged ceilings stretched around them, the gloom pierced only by glowing crystals embedded overhead.
"Ughh…"
His teammates groaned, still recovering from the teleportation.
"I'll never get used to that," Beren grumbled, clutching his head.
"No monsters yet, but…" Amarie crouched low, eyes sharp. "Tracks here—and here. Four, maybe six. Fresh. Likely goblins."
Isode gave a curt nod, following her lead.
"Man, is this what you feel every time you teleport?" Beren said, throwing an arm around Aeon.
Thanks to his rare [SSS Rank] space affinity, Aeon had learned [Teleportation].
His attempt at his unique [Riftwalk] skill, however, still only managed portals big enough for teacups.
"Honestly? Not at all. Teleportation never bothered me," Aeon replied with a grin.
"Tch. Lucky you." Beren tightened his grip.
"For the rest of us, it feels like getting torn apart and stitched back together."
Aeon laughed, prying himself free.
He remembered the uproar his triple [SSS Rank] affinity had caused.
And Isode too—her double [SSS Rank] affinity had shocked many.
But for some reason, the affinity orb—known for its precise evaluations—could only detect [SSS Rank] affinities from her.
The thought of her [EX Rank] being false crossed his mind, but he debunked it almost immediately.
He was sure she wasn't lying when she told him about her affinity rank two years ago.
"Quiet. We're close," Amarie whispered, arrow notched.
The dungeon fell into stillness, broken only by their footfalls… until faint, high-pitched chittering echoed ahead.
Twelve goblins clustered around a crude campfire, bald green heads glistening under firelight.
Ten were small F-ranks. One carried a bow, and another—a shaman cloaked in rags—reeked of mana.
"They're more than expected," Beren muttered.
"Nothing we can't handle," Isode replied coldly.
"Targets: ten grunts, one archer, one E-rank shaman," Amarie confirmed.
"Amarie, take the archer. I'll handle the shaman. You two deal with the rest," Isode ordered.
The goblins never saw it coming.
Thwip!
An arrow pierced through an eye, spraying green ichor and brain matter.
Shrieeek!
Panic erupted. The creatures scrambled for crude weapons.
Thwip-thwip-thwip!
Three more goblins fell before they even stood.
The shaman's shrill cry rallied the rest, sending them charging toward Beren. He slammed forward with shield raised, sword braced for impact.
Aeon sprinted past him, vanishing in a flash of [Teleportation].
He reappeared in the middle of three goblins. His blade took the head of the first before spinning to parry a stone axe at his flank.
CLAAANG!
The impact jolted him back, but he steadied instantly. The third goblin swung for his shoulder—too late. Aeon teleported behind it, his sword driving clean through its chest.
"Fwoo…"
He exhaled slowly, raising his blood-soaked weapon. The last goblin before him turned to flee.
Aeon flicked his blade, scattering the gore to the ground. Then he channeled mana into the steel until it gleamed bluish-green.
Adjusting his stance, he slashed.
A crescent arc of light shot forth, cleaving the goblin's head clean off meters away.
By the time Aeon lowered his blade, the fight was over.
Isode stood amid frost-scorched corpses, her eyes still glowing faint silver. Beren's shield was wet with green blood, his breathing steady. Arrows littered the ground where Amarie had stood her ground.
"That's fourteen points already. And only five minutes in," Beren said with a shaky laugh.
The four of them regrouped, their clothes spotless despite the carnage around them.
"Keep moving," Isode said, eyes flashing again. "If we want first place, fourteen points won't be enough."