Ray woke to warmth—a soft, gentle, soothing heat spreading across his aching ribs. For a blissful moment, he thought he was dreaming of a beach. Then, he cracked open one crusty eye.

  Celestine Vaelle sat beside his cot, her hands glowing with a familiar blue-green light. Her long, chestnut-tinted hair spilled over her shoulder like a curtain of silk as she leaned over him, every motion quiet and deliberate. She looked focused, her expression soft with the kind of practiced empathy only healers seem to possess.

  Ray blinked up at her, his throat feeling like he’d swallowed a handful of dry gravel. “…Am I dead?”

  Celestine smiled—the kind of smile that could convince a man he was dead and had gone somewhere unnecessarily beautiful. “No,” she said gently. “But you did sleep for almost twenty-four hours.”

  Her magic washed through him again, easing the stabbing pain in his side. Ray groaned, the sound vibrating in the hollow of his chest. “A whole day? Seriously?”

  Celestine nodded. “You were barely conscious when you arrived. Captain Draevin said you collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.”

  Ray covered his face with one arm and let out a long, suffering moan. “Perfect. Exactly how a future hero should debut—face-down in the dirt.”

  Celestine giggled softly, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze. “Well… heroes also survive things they shouldn’t. And you did. All of you did.”

  Ray lowered his arm and looked around. The grand hall of Highpass was a sea of cots. Cadets were in various states of disrepair—snoring, groaning, or sitting up stiffly while mages tended to them. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs, wet wool, and the lingering musk of exhaustion.

  “I heard,” Celestine said lightly, “that your group managed to take out a Crimson Mauler.”

  Ray froze. “How—? Did Rowen wake up already? He’s probably out there bragging and taking all the credit, that idiot—”

  “No,” Celestine said.

  “Oh. Then maybe Rian? Or one of the squires?”

  “No,” she repeated, her smile widening.

  Ray stared at her. “Then… how do you know? How does everyone seem to know what happened in the middle of a dark forest?”

  Celestine tilted her head, clearly amused by his confusion. Ray’s mind spun. Captain Draevin had known the second they limped through the doors. He’d announced it to the whole hall like he’d been watching the highlights on a jumbotron.

  Ray sat up a little too fast, his ribs twinging in protest. “How did he find out? Is there like… a magical satellite? Scrying orbs?”

  Celestine giggled again, as if he were asking why birds had wings. “Of course he knows, Ray. He knew what every cadet was doing, every minute of every day.”

  Ray blinked. “…How?”

  “Because everyone,” Celestine said gently, “was being shadowed by an elite unit of the Shadows.”

  Ray’s jaw dropped. “Shadowed—? W-Wait.” He held up a trembling finger. “Are you telling me… elite black-ops soldiers were watching us get mauled for three days?”

  Celestine gave him a sympathetic, almost motherly smile. “Ray, did you really think the Academy would send a hundred inexperienced teenagers into a forest full of apex predators and just… hope for the best?”

  Ray opened his mouth to argue, closed it, then slumped back against his pillow. “…Okay, fair point.”

  “The Shadows only intervene when death is unavoidable,” she explained. “Their orders are absolute. They must never interfere unless a squad is literally seconds from being wiped out.”

  Ray nodded slowly. That tracked with the Academy's brutal philosophy. Then, a terrible, ego-bruising realization struck him. “Hold on—if we were being shadowed… why did no one help us?! We fought a Crimson Mauler! A monster that could bisect a house! We were dangling off a cliff!”

  Celestine blinked, then offered a smile that was equal parts apology and terrifying pride. “Oh, that? That just means the Shadows determined your situation… wasn't actually that serious.”

  Ray’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “NOT SERIOUS?! It was the worst situation of my life! I saw my life flash before my eyes so many times I memorized my kindergarten graduation!”

  He fell back onto his cot, staring at the ceiling in a mix of betrayal and existential despair. “I’m going to die because of this Academy’s standards,” he whispered.

  Celestine just laughed warmly. “But you didn't, Ray Melborne. You lived. And you grew.” She leaned in closer—so close Ray could smell the faint scent of rain and lilies on her skin—and whispered: “…So. Did you use it?”

  Ray blinked. “…Use what?”

  Celestine raised her eyebrows, her voice dipping into playful disbelief. “The bomb. Elaine’s gift.”

  Ray stared at her. Bomb? Then, it hit him like a physical blow to the stomach. His hand flew to his chest, patting frantically until he felt the hard, rune-etched shape tucked safely in his inner pocket. The sigil charge.

  Still there. Untouched. Sleeping.

  A wave of pure, unadulterated humiliation rolled through him. If he had used it earlier—before the sprinting, the screaming, the cliff, the human chain, and the desperate, bone-breaking Rocket Punch—everything would have been over in seconds.

  He dropped his face into both hands. “…I’m so stupid,” he groaned. “I had a literal tactical nuke in my pocket and I completely forgot it existed.”

  Celestine blinked at him, genuinely baffled. “…You didn’t use it? Not even when the monster was charging?”

  Ray’s soul left his body. He whispered, barely audible: “…No. I forgot.”

  Celestine stared at him for a heartbeat before covering her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

  “Ray… Ray…” she whispered between tiny, muffled giggles. “Elaine entrusted you with a masterpiece of high-level combustion, and you… you just… punched it instead?”

  Ray rolled onto his side and curled into a miserable, soot-covered ball. “Yes. Please stop talking. I want to go back to being unconscious now.”

  One week had passed.

  Bruises faded, bones knit, and egos—mostly—recovered. The great hall of the Academy buzzed with a restless, electric energy as nearly every cadet stood in formation, now wearing the silver-trimmed sashes of newly recognized Junior Squires.

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  Captain Draevin stomped onto the platform like a man ready to ruin lives one more time before the weekend.

  “ATTENTION, EVERYONE!”

  A chorus of weary groans rippled across the room. Ray muttered to his squad, “No. No, please. I just learned how to sit down without crying. My body isn't ready for more.”

  Rian nodded solemnly, staring straight ahead. “I only stopped hallucinating that I was a tree yesterday.”

  “If he says ‘Round Four,’ I’m throwing myself out the nearest window,” Calen whispered, his voice cracking.

  Draevin grinned like a demon who fed exclusively on the tears of teenagers. “Now that you have all successfully passed the Crucible…” He paused for a long, agonizingly dramatic beat. Row after row of cadets stiffened. “…We move on to the NEXT TEST.”

  The silence that followed was pure, soul-draining despair. Then, the dam broke.

  “ARE YOU SERIOUS?!” “WE JUST SURVIVED A LAVA-BEAR!” “I HAVEN’T SLEPT SINCE THE BRAMBLEBACK INCIDENT!”

  Ray actually sat down on the floor, defeated. Draevin’s laughter boomed through the hall, a deep, gravelly sound.

  “Hahahaha! Look at you! I’m kidding—no more tests today!” He raised a finger. “For now.”

  The collective sound of a hundred Junior Squires collapsing in relief was louder than the earlier shouting.

  “Right now,” Draevin continued, “we march back to the Academy via the Highborn Road. Once we arrive… you will be on holiday for one month.”

  A heartbeat of silence. Then, the room exploded.

  “ONE MONTH?!” “THE FOUNDERS FESTIVAL!” “I CAN FINALLY SEE MY FAMILY!”

  Ray threw both fists into the air. “YES! FINALLY! REAL FOOD! REAL SLEEP!”

  Rian’s voice cracked with emotion. “I’m going to sleep for seventy-two hours straight.” Calen was openly sobbing, muttering about eating something that wasn't leathery dried meat.

  Draevin smirked at the celebration, letting them have their moment before raising a gauntleted hand to snuff out the cheers like a candle.

  “But before any of you breathe a sigh of relief… I will tell you this: After the break ends, another major test awaits you. One far more difficult than the Crucible.”

  A collective gulp echoed through the hall. Ray slowly lowered his fists. Calen whimpered, “He can’t keep getting away with this…”

  “Many will fail this test,” Draevin said, his voice dropping into an uncompromising register. “But you will not let failure break you.”

  Ray raised his hand hesitantly. “Sir… what test could possibly be worse than the Crucible?”

  Draevin turned to him, smiling like a man who enjoyed watching hope die. “Over this month, each of you will practice individually to master your Foundational Vein to its fullest extent. You are going on holiday, yes, but the work does not stop. The Crucible was designed to force your Veins to react under pressure. Now, you must stabilize that power.”

  Rian straightened with pride. Calen puffed out his chest. Rowen, standing a few rows away, flared a small, controlled flame from his palm. Ray tried to summon a puff of smoke. He coughed awkwardly as nothing happened.

  “When you return,” Draevin’s voice dropped an octave, “your Second Engraving will begin.”

  Ray’s hand shot up again. “Wait—again? We just did this!”

  “Yes,” Draevin answered. “Every time you master a Vein, you must receive another engraving to bridge the gap to the next. This will unlock true access to your Second Vein.”

  A heavy hush fell over the Junior Squires.

  “And once your Second Vein is mastered… you may begin the ascent toward your Third Vein.” Draevin’s eyes gleamed with an ancient, predatory light. “The rank of the elites. The VEIN OF INSIGHT.”

  A shiver went through every cadet in the room. Even Ray felt it—a heavy, ancient thrumming deep in his chest. The path wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about power. Real, world-shaping power.

  Ray clenched his fist. The holiday was coming, the festival was near, but for the first time, he wasn't just looking at the next meal. He was looking at the horizon.

  “Junior Squires—ready… MARCH!”

  The command rolled down the line, and the newly minted Junior Squires began their long trek home. But this time, it wasn’t a desperate crawl through a nightmare forest of murder-beasts. This time, it was a paved road under an open sky, with a breeze that smelled like pine instead of death.

  It was paradise.

  The march felt almost festive. Voices carried down the formation as cadets joked, compared scars, and retold the tale of the Crimson Mauler for the twentieth time. Ray walked with his hands behind his head, soaking in the sunlight.

  “This,” he sighed dreamily, “is how marching is supposed to feel.”

  Calen nodded. “If the Crucible was hell, this is purgatory. I’ll take it.”

  Harel raised a finger. “Actually, purgatory is technically a place of—”

  “Shut up, Harel,” the three of them said in perfect unison.

  Even Rian looked peaceful, studying his map without the constant fear of being ambushed by sentient lumber.

  Then—ROOOOAAAAARRR!

  A pack of Fanged Ravagers burst from the treeline, snarling and charging directly at the flank of the formation. The Junior Squires froze. Every head turned slowly—very slowly—toward Captain Draevin and the senior squires.

  Draevin simply folded his arms. The senior squires didn’t even draw their blades.

  Ray blinked. “Uh… aren’t you going to do the thing? The 'saving us' thing?”

  Draevin raised one mocking eyebrow. “You’re Junior Squires now,” he said casually. “Take care of it.”

  The words hit like a leash being unclipped from a pack of hounds. The Junior Squires didn't panic; they exploded forward. They threw themselves at the monsters with the pent-up fury of students who had survived three days of starvation and a boss-fight.

  “YES, SIR!”

  Ray ran with them, his mind racing. This was it. No safety net. No elite shadows. No teachers. Just them, their Veins, and the open road.

  Ray felt a familiar spark in his chest—the same thrill he’d felt watching Kamen Rider Battler X on the floor of his living room. He remembered Shinji’s voice, clear as a bell: “Power comes out when you shout your heart, Ray!”

  Ray’s veins began to tingle. The smoke didn't stall this time; it stirred like a waking predator. He wasn't scared. He felt the Ash Circuit respond, obedient and excited. He clenched his fist, his grin widening.

  “Alright,” he breathed, “let’s HENSHIN this bastard.”

  The lead Ravager lunged. Ray planted his feet, the dirt kicking up under his boots. Smoke curled around his arm, coiling and compressing into a dense, grey spiral. He drew back his fist, the heat under his skin reaching a boiling point.

  “煙拳?ロケットパンチ！！ — ENKEN: ROKETTO PANCHI!!” (Smoke Fist Rocket Punch!!)

  The air ignited. Once again, his fist did not fly off—but Ray did.

  The explosion of smoke blasted behind his elbow like a jet thruster. The recoil launched him forward across the road like a ballistic projectile.

  “WAAAAAAAH—!”

  WHAM!

  His fist connected with the monster’s skull with a sickening, heavy crack. It was a clean hit. A beautiful hit. A physics-defying, anime-protagonist hit. The beast didn't just fall; it launched. It spiraled through the air, tumbling end-over-end before crashing through a thicket in a puff of leaves and offended wildlife.

  Ray skidded across the dirt, rolled twice, slammed back-first into a tree, and lay there staring at the sky in total shock.

  “…Holy crap,” he whispered.

  His hand was tingling. Faint, grey smoke curled lovingly around his knuckles. For the first time, the attack had worked exactly as he’d envisioned it—minus the detached limb part.

  Behind him, the entire squad had gone silent. Rowen sputtered, “WHAT—WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? MELBORNE, DID YOU JUST FLY?!”

  Calen’s eyes were practically sparkling. Rian whispered reverently, “A human missile...”

  Harel clutched his head in his hands. “Ray! You’re going to die if you keep doing stunts like that! You have zero regard for your own skeletal integrity!”

  Ray lifted one trembling, soot-stained finger. “I… looked cool, though? Right?”

  A beat of silence passed. Then the boys roared: “YEAH YOU DID!”

  The rest of the Ravagers kept charging, but the fear was gone. Ray pushed himself to his feet, smoke rising from his knuckles like a battle-flag.

  “Round two,” he muttered, his grin turning sharp. “Let’s go.”