Ashan arrived at the training grounds just as the morning mist was beginning to thin, the cool air still clinging to the earth in a way that made every breath feel sharp and clean.
Before he even stepped fully into the open space, the sound of steel slicing through the wind reached him in quick, rhythmic bursts that immediately drew his attention.
Zevi stood at the center of the training field, fully absorbed in practice. His movements felt different, more aggressive and demanding than his usual flowing style.
He had abandoned graceful slashes for a relentless storm of rapid thrusts, his sword flashing from every possible angle. Each stab was sharp and precise, yet the sequence still broke slightly between motions, not flowing as smoothly as he wanted.
Ashan watched for a few seconds, arms loosely at his sides, before calling out, his tone casual but edged with quiet amusement.
"Well… looks like you're trying something new," he said as he walked closer, his eyes tracking the uneven rhythm in Zevi's movements.
"But honestly, it looks a bit off."
Zevi halted mid-motion, the blade stopping just short of another thrust as he exhaled and lowered it, sweat glistening along his forehead and jaw, his chest rising and falling from the strain as he turned toward Ashan with a tired but thoughtful expression.
"Yeah… I figured as much," he admitted, shifting his grip on the sword before resting the flat of it against his shoulder.
"Instead of slashing, I tried filling the entire attack path with consecutive stabs, thinking it would overwhelm the opponent completely, but my speed isn't high enough yet to make it seamless, so the timing keeps breaking apart no matter how much I push it."
Ashan didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering for a moment as if replaying the movement in his head, weighing the idea behind it rather than the flawed execution.
Zevi tilted his head slightly, studying him. "What is it? You've got that look again. Is there something you want to say?"
"Yeah," Ashan replied after a brief pause, shifting his focus away from the technique. "There's something I wanted to ask you about."
Zevi raised an eyebrow, interest replacing his earlier fatigue. "What's up?"
"Last night, Luphar and Roswayn came to my room," Ashan said plainly.
"They offered me a spot in their new squad."
For a split second, Zevi simply stared at him as if he hadn't heard correctly, and then his eyes widened noticeably, the reaction immediate and unfiltered.
"Wait… seriously?" he blurted out, straightening up as the exhaustion seemed to vanish from his posture.
"Those two actually came to you themselves? That's insane."
Ashan shrugged lightly, as if it wasn't worth making a big deal out of.
"Yeah. So I wanted your opinion. What do you think about it?"
Zevi let out a short breath, a grin forming almost instinctively.
"About their squad? I've heard about it already. S-rankers and a few top A-rankers forming a twenty-member team for special training… right now, that's easily the strongest group in the academy."
Ashan shook his head slightly, cutting in before Zevi could continue.
"Not about them. I'm asking about their offer to me. Do you think I should join?"
That made Zevi pause.
For a moment, he looked at Ashan as if the answer should have been obvious, then gave a small, incredulous laugh.
"Is that even something you need to think about?" he said, though his tone softened slightly.
"That kind of opportunity doesn't just come around. Most people would jump at it without hesitation. And honestly… after what I've seen from you, you're more than qualified. You're like some hidden dungeon, full of things no one can properly understand, and way more unpredictable than half the S-rankers out there."
He gestured loosely with his sword, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Who else could casually create an entire beach with an endless sea out of nowhere?"
Ashan let out a quiet breath through his nose, not quite smiling.
"I'm asking for your personal opinion, Zevi. Not the obvious answer."
That made the grin fade.
Zevi shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck as his expression turned more thoughtful, the earlier excitement giving way to something more honest.
"…If I'm being real," he said slowly, "I'd be a bit annoyed if you went."
Ashan blinked. "Annoyed?"
"Yeah," Zevi replied, letting out a small sigh. "I was actually planning to drag you into another group with me, so if you join them, that idea's pretty much dead."
He paused, then added, more seriously this time, "But even putting that aside… if I were you, I wouldn't accept their offer."
Ashan's brow lifted slightly, genuine curiosity surfacing. "You wouldn't? Why?"
Zevi exhaled, his usual playful tone dimming as he spoke.
"Training with strong people sounds great on paper, and yeah, you'll get better by fighting them, but there's a downside people don't talk about," he said, his grip tightening slightly on the sword.
"They've already made their names. They're S-rankers. Everything about them gets attention, recognition, better treatment. You, on the other hand, are still officially a B-ranker, and since you don't show your real strength to everyone, you'll end up stuck in their shadow no matter what you do."
Ashan crossed his arms loosely, listening.
"They'll shine," Zevi continued, "and you'll just be… there. No matter how much you contribute, it won't be seen properly. That kind of environment can box you in."
Ashan raised a hand slightly, interrupting him. "Hold on. You're an A-ranker. Don't you get recognition too?"
For a moment, Zevi just stared at him, and then suddenly burst out laughing, the sound loud and unrestrained.
"Recognition?" he repeated between laughs. "Oh yeah, I've got plenty."
He wiped the corner of his eye, still grinning.
"I'm known as the greatest nut-cracker alive, the rope-obsessed lunatic, the madman Zevi Starwell. That's my 'recognition.'"
Ashan couldn't help but smile faintly at that. "Fair enough… but you're still an A-ranker."
Zevi's laughter faded, his expression settling into something quieter, more grounded.
"Honestly, I hate it," he admitted. "I don't like standing under S-rankers, feeling like I'm just… below them by default. I'd rather stay free and fight alongside people who actually match my pace, people I can grow with properly."
He glanced at Ashan, his gaze steady.
"The bonds you build with people on your level… they feel real. Trying to stand next to something untouchable, something already set in stone, just isn't the same."
Ashan fell silent after that, his thoughts turning inward as he weighed those words carefully.
'He's right,' Ashan thought quietly. 'There's no need to rush into this. I can observe them from a distance, let things unfold as they should, and move when it actually matters.'
A faint idea began to take shape in his mind.
'Instead of joining them… I can build something of my own.'
He nodded once, decision settling.
"Alright," he said. "Then I won't join them."
Zevi blinked, clearly not expecting such a quick conclusion, but before he could react, Ashan's expression shifted slightly, a small, almost mischievous smile forming.
"But I've got another idea," he added. "Why don't we make our own squad?"
For a second, Zevi just stared at him.
Then his jaw dropped.
"…What?" he said, disbelief clear in his voice. "A squad? You? Are you serious right now?"
Ashan tilted his head slightly, unfazed. "Why not? Anyone can form one if they meet the requirements."
"I know that," Zevi shot back, dragging a hand down his face. "But think about it properly. Even if we create one, who's actually going to join us?"
"There are people," Ashan replied calmly. "Nevil would definitely join."
Zevi groaned. "Great. That gives us three idiots instead of two. We need at least ten confirmed members to officially form a squad."
Ashan hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "Then we'll gather people first and create it after."
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Zevi muttered. "We can't just start with nothing."
Ashan gave a small nod. "Fine. Then we'll put the idea on hold for now and look for decent people first."
As he spoke, he casually moved one hand behind his back, summoning the weapon he had acquired the previous night, the three-section staff appearing in his grip without a sound.
He brought it forward and held it out.
"Here," he said. "Try this."
Zevi blinked, his attention immediately drawn to the unfamiliar weapon. "What is that supposed to be?"
"A weapon," Ashan replied with a slight smirk. "It's called Playful Cloud."
Zevi took one end and gave it a lazy spin, testing the weight and balance, his expression unimpressed at first glance.
"Playful Cloud?" he repeated. "That name sounds terrible. And this thing looks like a toy. What's it even supposed to do?"
"Crush, sweep, wrap," Ashan said simply. "It's unpredictable, hard to read, and harder to block."
Zevi snorted. "So basically my rope, but worse."
Ashan chuckled softly. "That's what it looks like. But try it."
Zevi glanced toward a nearby training dummy, then adjusted his stance slightly, his grip tightening as his expression turned more focused.
Without holding back, he stepped in and swung.
The staff moved faster than expected, the segments snapping into alignment at the moment of impact as it connected with the dummy's head.
The result was immediate.
The head didn't just break, it exploded.
Fragments scattered across the ground, and the entire upper half of the dummy shattered apart as if struck by something far heavier than what Zevi had swung.
For a moment, Zevi didn't move.
His eyes widened slowly, his mind replaying the strike, analyzing the force, the feedback, the absence of resistance.
"…What the hell," he muttered under his breath.
He looked down at the weapon in his hands, then back at the destroyed dummy, disbelief clear on his face.
"That hit… there was no loss," he said, his voice quieter now, more focused. "Everything went through exactly as it should."
Ashan simply watched, a faint smile on his lips.
Zevi turned to him, grip tightening.
"Where did you even get something like this?"
Ashan shrugged. "Don't worry about that."
He stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Zevi's shoulder.
"Just think of it as a gift," he said. "It doesn't suit me, but for you… it's perfect."
Zevi looked back at the staff, his earlier skepticism completely gone, replaced by a growing excitement.
"With this," Ashan continued, his tone steady, "you can build something entirely your own, a fighting style no one will be able to predict or copy easily."
He paused slightly before adding, more seriously, "But it won't be easy. This thing is much harder to master than a sword. If you commit to it, you'll have to start from scratch."
Zevi didn't hesitate.
His grip tightened, his eyes sharpening with determination.
"…Then I'll master it," he said.
He looked at Ashan, a grin slowly forming.
"And that's a promise."
…
Inside Maren's office, the early morning light filtered softly through the windows.
Maren sat back in her chair, one hand resting against the armrest while the other held the report she had received shortly after dawn, her eyes moving steadily across each line, sharp and focused, her brows gradually drawing together as the details began to form a pattern she didn't like.
The silence of the room made it easier to think, yet the more she read, the more that silence began to feel heavy rather than peaceful.
'Something about this is off,' she thought, her gaze narrowing slightly as she went over the numbers again, unwilling to accept them at face value.
'The frequency of dungeon appearances is increasing, and not in a way that can be dismissed as coincidence…'
Her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the paper, a small, unconscious motion that betrayed the tension beneath her composed exterior.
'And these abnormalities… they don't follow any known pattern,' she continued, her thoughts sharpening as she recalled the recent reports one after another.
'High-rank dungeons appearing with weak monsters, while others show the exact opposite behavior… if this continues, then the entire ranking system we rely on will become unreliable.'
She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose as she let the implications settle.
'If that happens, then every decision based on rank alone becomes a gamble… and I can't afford that, not with students involved.'
Her gaze shifted briefly toward the window, though she wasn't really looking outside, her mind already moving ahead to the next concern.
'And that goblin dungeon… I need to re-evaluate it properly,' she decided, her expression tightening just a fraction.
'If there's even the slightest irregularity, I'll postpone the raid without hesitation. Rushing into an unstable dungeon just to stay on schedule is the kind of mistake that gets people killed.'
For a moment, she remained still, the report resting lightly in her hand as her thoughts settled into a clear, decisive direction, her usual calm authority returning to the surface as she organized her next steps.
Then,
Knock… knock…
The sound broke cleanly through the silence, snapping her attention back to the present.
Maren blinked once, the tension in her expression easing almost instantly as she set the report down on the desk, her posture straightening as she looked toward the door, the seriousness from moments ago softening into something far more approachable.
"Come in," she said, her voice warm and composed.
The door opened slowly, almost cautiously, and Lia stepped inside, her presence carrying a subtle hesitation that didn't quite match her usual confidence, as though she was still adjusting to something lingering beneath the surface.
"Good morning, Maren," Lia greeted, offering a small, polite smile as she stepped further into the room.
"I hope I didn't interrupt anything important."