Examination week descended upon the academy like a quiet storm.

  Not the loud kind—the creeping, suffocating sort that stole laughter first, then sleep, and finally hope. Hallways that were normally bursting with chatter now felt hollow. Every footstep echoed. Even the breeze seemed afraid to disturb anyone’s concentration.

  In the first-year history classroom, the silence was a pressure on its own. Students hunched over their desks, fighting their battles with quill and parchment. For some, the questions were obstacles. For others—Boris, for example—they were executioners.

  Despite the chill that seeped through the stone walls, sweat rolled down his forehead in shining trails. He gripped his quill so tightly the feather trembled. His lips moved silently as he reread the same question for the fifth time.

  This is a stupid question. Boris thought, despair curling in his stomach. Why isn’t there an exam about how to handle lizardmen or black scorpions? I would excel at that. Don’t need a review.

  After a few moments, Boris finished the written exam. Second to the last person who left the room.

  Outside, Suri leaned against the wall with her arms folded. She had been one of the first to finish her art-class exam, and boredom was beginning to win over patience. “You look like you’re about to die,” she said the moment Boris stumbled into the hallway.

  Kana stood beside her, posture straight.. Unlike Boris, she looked untouched by the trials of academia—as if history had politely stepped aside and allowed her to pass. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at him.

  “I think I failed,” Boris murmured. His voice didn’t tremble. It surrendered.

  Kana studied him with the solemnity of a judge reading a sentence. “I might kill you if you fail a simple exam.”

  Boris stared. “That was simple?” His voice cracked. “You’re joking… right?”

  Kana didn’t blink. Her tone was cold, precise—like a blade forged perfectly for the task of ending hopes. “I’m serious. It was simple. That’s why I’ll kill you if you fail.”

  Suri nodded sympathetically as she rested a hand on Boris’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll visit your grave from time to time. I’ll even bring flowers. Maybe candles. Depends on my mood.”

  Behind them, Rin, Roy, and Toby—who had been lurking just outside the classroom waiting for Boris—burst into muffled laughter. They had tried to contain it, but the combination of Kana’s icy threat and Suri’s funeral-planning tone broke their restraint.

  Boris groaned and covered his face with both hands. “This academy is going to be the death of me. I prefer killing dungeon monsters.”

  Kana crossed her arms. “Only if you fail the next exam.”

  Boris made a sound halfway between a whimper and a prayer.

  …

  The second half of examination week carried a different kind of pressure.

  Where the written tests drained minds and souls, the physical examinations awakened something feral. Muscles tensed. Blood pumped hotter. The academy grounds shook beneath the impact of feet and weapons.

  This was Boris’s territory.

  In contrast to the written tests—where he always left the classroom last, defeated and sweating—the physical trials turned him into a storm.

  “First Form!”

  Dozens of spearheads snapped forward in perfect unison. Wood thudded against the air like rhythmic thunder.

  “Second Form!”

  Students pivoted, heels grinding dust from the training yard stone, the shift of weight crisp and practiced.

  “Third Form!”

  The final strike landed, sharp enough to send vibrations running up their arms. Professor Fin strode through the rows, hands clasped behind his back, observing every posture, every angle, every error.

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  “Boris. Dan. Kurt,” Fin called, not bothering to raise his voice. Authority carried it for him. “You may go.”

  A brief murmur ran through the class—admiration and envy mixed. Passing the first try was rare.

  “The rest of you,” Fin continued, eyes narrowing at the students who had fumbled their form, “two more chances. Fail again, and you’ll see me next year.”

  A chorus of groans rose like a dying chant. Spears drooped. Shoulders sagged.

  Fin didn’t smile.

  Across the academy grounds, similar scenes played out. Sword Mastery. Archery. Dagger and different combat classes. Each required demonstrations with no room for sloppiness—not this week.

  Only Physical Enhancement was different.

  Kana and Boris tore through their course like twin blades cutting the same path. The track echoed with their footsteps—Kana’s precise, controlled, almost too light for the speed she carried; Boris’s heavy, powerful, the ground cracking faintly with each stride.

  Kana reached the marker first in her class. Again.

  But not the academy record.

  She overheard the whispers before her breathing even steadied.

  “Mica broke it—by a long shot.”

  Kana clicked her tongue. That explained it. Only Shai’s unnatural stat distribution or a newly tamed beast could push a first-year girl past Kana’s own physically reinforced speed. Maybe the new egg already hatched and she tamed it already?

  Fine. A challenge kept her sharp.

  But when it came to raw strength, the results were unquestionable.

  Adam hoisted the heaviest training stone with a grunt that shook the yard.

  Boris lifted the same stone—and held it longer, muscles bulging, teeth grit, a wild grin on his face.

  Not a single other first-year came close.

  Though a few third and fourth years managed to lift it off the ground—barely.

  Kana though didn’t try her hardest, just the stone heavy enough for her to pass, she had something to do later, after all.

  Kana watched, impressed despite herself. “You two are monsters.”

  Adam beamed proudly.

  Boris just laughed, breathless. “Well… I can’t fail at everything.”

  And for once during exam week, Kana didn’t threaten him.

  ….

  Kana wasn’t truly present for most of the examination week. Her body sat in classrooms; her quill scratched at papers; her feet carried her through physical trials. But her mind drifted elsewhere—back to the quiet corners of the academy library for her research. That was what she focused on.

  Whenever she finished early from an exam or had extra time on her hand, she slipped into its aisles, brushing her fingers along the spines of ancient tomes. The smell of dust and ink clung to her clothes. She devoured book after book about skill–books—grimoires that taught spells through mere contact.

  Yet every text said the same infuriating thing.

  Sometimes you learn the spell. Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes the book chooses you. Sometimes it's not.

  As if the pages themselves had whims and moods.

  A sentient book? Kana closed one of the tomes with a muted thud. Ridiculous. But she’d seen enough impossible things to take the idea a bit seriously.

  She could attempt the skill book and learn it herself…

  But what if the skill she looted consumed a mountain of mana? What if she drained herself dry? If it's better for Suri, who had the reserves. Suri had an affinity? What if it had something to do with undead skills? Surely she had no use of that. Giving it to Roy would make sense.

  As she pushed the final book away, the classroom door slid open. Wor-en stepped inside, his expression unreadable as always. Afternoon light framed him like a blade.

  “The examination week has now officially ended,” he announced.

  A wave of relief washed through the copper class.

  “You will have your one month break. So enjoy—” Wor-en paused, lips twisting,

  “—is what I would like to say. But your leader has suddenly submitted that your group will join the annual tournament.”

  The room erupted in groans.

  Students slumped forward as if struck by arrows except for Rin who let out a heavy sigh.

  Wor-en’s gaze swept the classroom. “Did Kana inform you about this?”

  Kana rose to her feet. “I will inform them now.”

  Her voice was calm, measured—too calm. “I wanted their focus on the examinations these past few days.”

  “I don’t want to,” Roy said immediately, hand raised. Toby mimicked him without hesitation. Adam lifted his hands too, looking betrayed by fate.

  Kana crossed her arms. “Roy, I’ll get you new, stronger bones.”

  Roy froze and put his hands down slowly.

  “And if we secure third place,” Kana continued, “I’ll give one gold coin to everyone.”

  A hush fell. Motivations… shifted. Toby and Adam put their hands down quickly after hearing the gold coin.

  “I’ve already spoken to Leo and Yuri,” she added. “They will join as our remaining members.”

  Andel stood. A crease formed on his forehead. “Kana… other teams have been preparing for months. We only have weeks. I think it’s too late. We’ll be crushed.”

  Kana didn’t flinch.

  “Preparation? We already know each other’s skills. Strengths. Weaknesses.”

  Her eyes narrowed, calculating.

  “Train individually. That’s all I ask. Just be in a good condition when the day comes.”

  What she didn’t say—but the core group understood—was the real plan.

  They would grind levels with Leo for the entire break with the help of Duke Stark.

  Raw power was their top priority. Kana was planning to win by overwhelming stats. It didn’t matter if someone from the enemy could mute their skills. Surely, even if they could debuff their stats, it shouldn’t be that big of a difference.

  Few skills could compete with a twenty-level gap.

  Around her, the others murmured. Some were nervous. Some were excited. Some imagined the glory—and the prizes.

  Suri finally stood, brushing off her skirt. “You’re putting pressure on them again,” she said, though her voice carried warmth. “Let’s just enjoy this tournament. Make good memories. Try not to traumatize anyone.”

  She shot Kana a teasing look before turning back to the class.

  “And lastly… just trust Kana, alright?”

  Trust.

  Heavy word.

  But one by one, the students nodded.

  Kana exhaled slowly.

  The real work began now.

  But for now. She must pay her debt to the [Analyst] grandma and have her appraised of a few dungeon items that she had.