The results of both written and physical examinations would only be posted after the academy resumed. Until then, uncertainty lingered like frost on glass—thin, cold, impossible to shake off.
By dawn, the academy resembled a ghost town. Hallways once filled with chatter now echoed only with the distant creak of doors and the wind dragging snow across the courtyards. Students had scattered toward their homes, their inns, their villages—anywhere but here.
After a string of goodbyes and a few promises with souvenirs from their hometown, Kana, Boris, Suri, Leo, and Kier loaded their belongings and began their journey south.
The duke had come through on his word, purchasing most of the exclusive entry rights to the dungeon they were headed for.
But it sat close to their route toward the town near Saltrain Village—where the [Analyst] Granny resided. Kana intended to consult her again… about many things.
This time, at Suri’s insistence, they decided on comfort over speed.
And so the duke loaned them one of his finest carriages—a luxurious, lacquered vehicle with enchanted suspension and cushions thick enough to drown in. Kier took the reins outside, now serving as their coachman with surprising dignity as if he was born to do it instead of an adventurer.
Suri hopped inside first, pressing a hand to one of the seats. Her face brightened.
“Looks like our buttocks will be fine this time.”
Kana snorted as she followed her in. She preferred riding the horses herself against the wind but she gave up for Suri this time after hearing what she went through when she disappeared back in the north dungeon.
The interior smelled faintly of lavender oil and polished wood—far removed from their usual rattling carts and splinter-filled benches. Boris hesitated at the door, hands gripping the frame. His brows knitted tightly, thoughts heavy. As the carriage lurched forward, he finally blurted, “Kana… what happens if I fail the written exam?”
Kana didn’t sugarcoat. She never did. “You’ll study the old lessons and the new ones. If you fail one of them again in the finals, you repeat that subject.”
Boris swallowed hard.
Leo added from across from him, “If you fail three or more, you get expelled.”
Boris’ skin paled more than the snow outside the window. “But I’m confident in the physical exams,” he muttered, as if that would anchor him.
“Failing subjects is pretty common,”Leo explained, leaning back casually. “Most who fail early still get recommendations. A lot end up in the lower ranks of public offices. Steady work and not a bad income.”
“Good for you, Boris,” Suri chimed, voice sugary and cruel. “You’ll still have a decent job.”
“I did my best to teach you,” Kana added, her tone somewhere between reassuring and threatening.”You should start praying every night. Who knows. Some god may do miracles.”
Leo rested a finger on his chin. “If prayer won’t work, my father can probably hire you. He knows you’re quite a capable warrior.”
Boris stared at them, expression caught between betrayal and despair.
“You guys…” The carriage hit a bump, rattling hard. “…that is not comforting.”
Kana smirked. Suri burst into laughter. Even Leo cracked a smile.
Outside, the winter road stretched endlessly—white fields, frostbitten trees, and the faint glow of the rising sun reflecting on ice.
Inside the carriage, warmth, teasing, and their lingering worries mixed together.
Ahead of them awaited their break…
their dungeon grind…
and the tournament that could alter their place in the academy.
And behind Boris, somewhere in the distance, lay the ghost of a written exam that would not stop haunting him.
..
The journey southward passed without incident—just the steady rhythm of hooves on frozen dirt and the long, white horizon stretching in every direction. Seven days of quiet travel, warm meals, and Boris muttering over imagined exam questions.
By the time they reached the tiny southern town, the air felt warmer, the roads busier, and spirits lighter.
Their destination stood unchanged: a crooked wooden shop wedged between a tanner and a bakery, its sign still hanging by a miracle or stubborn enchantment.
The group wasted no time entering, though Kier elected to wander outside, peering suspiciously into barrels and behind crates as if something dangerous or maybe news that he must know.
Inside, the air smelled of old parchment, dust, and a faint tang of something metallic. Shelves were sparser than before—items missing, spaces empty, leaving the place feeling strangely hollow.
“Granny!” Suri burst out, practically skipping forward. “Do you still remember us?”
The old woman didn’t even look up from her counter—she sniffed.
“You lot look different,” she said. “But you smell the same.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Boris stiffened and tugged at his thick fur-lined jacket. “I showered a few days ago…” he whispered defensively.
“Don’t mind him,” Kana said as she produced a single gold coin, placing it on the counter with care. “I just wanted to say… the [Teleportation scroll] saved my life.”
Granny blinked at the coin, surprised.
“Really? I thought that one was fake.”
“What?” Kana leaned in, eyes wide.
Granny’s lips slowly curled into a wicked smile. “Just kidding.”
From beneath the counter she pulled out two rolled parchments, tied with silver thread.
“I’ve got two more. Don’t ask how I got them—they just show up sometimes.”
Kana reached for one, but the old woman smacked her hand with the speed of a seasoned adventurer.
“Ten gold coins each.”
Kana’s soul left her body for a moment.
Suri raised a brow. “But you sold the last one for one gold. That’s not even close.”
“That last one,” Granny said, tapping her counter, “I acquired ages ago. Didn’t know it had become this valuable. These two? Came into my possession recently. Prices are different now.”
Inflation again? A foreign word came to her mind.
Kana exhaled, long and pained.
Still better than the empire city prices.
“Fine. I’ll take both.”
Granny was surprised for a moment that Kana had that kind of gold where she didn’t have one before. She smiled and tucked the gold away. “I assume you didn’t come just to repay your debt. Why are you here, little monsters?”
“Little monsters?” Suri scoffed. “That’s rude. Boris maybe. But not me, Leo, or—well, not sure with Kana.”
Kana tilted her head. Uncertain if she should agree or glare.
“I’m not talking about looks,” Granny said. “I can confidently say there are very few people in this kingdom who can match your strength now. I wonder how you managed that… in such a short time.”
She said in a low voice,“But anyone has their secrets.”
Kana cleared her throat loudly.
“We’d like you to appraise something.”
She nodded to Suri, who slipped off a ring she’d been wearing.
Granny turned the bronze band in her fingers, muttering softly. After a moment, she scribbled on parchment and slid it forward.
[Ring of Fire]
Created by a fine craftsman accidentally imbued an unknown stone.
Increases fire resistance by 5%.
Kana nodded. They had found that in a low-level dungeon—it made sense. Still better than nothing.
Then she pulled out her next item: a dagger so black it seemed to devour the lantern-light around it.
[Obsidian]
Granny’s eyebrows climbed.
“Ohhh. Now this is interesting. Where did you get this?”
Kana remained silent.
After a long examination, Granny wrote on a fresh piece of parchment.
[Obsidian]
Forged from the darkest metal by an unknown dwarf.
Increases dagger skill damage by 15% when equipped.
Increases Agility by 10%.
Unbreakable.
Kana blinked.
That was… really good.
“So it’s not cursed?” she asked, a little too quickly.
Granny chuckled. “Cursed items? I’ve appraised a few. They all share one trait: their descriptions were dyed like blood. Looks like dried blood more than paint. This”—she tapped the dagger—“has a purple background. It means a very rare item, only seen a few of them in my lifetime, but not cursed. Now… are you interested in selling it?”
“Absolutely not.” Kana tightened her grip instantly.
She had hoped it was a hidden-type item like her [Bolt Dagger Style], something unusual… but even so, this was a treasure.
Granny shrugged. “Had to try.”
“Speaking of cursed items…” Granny’s voice dropped low—too low—her wrinkled fingers brushing along the counter’s underside. “I have something for you.”
She dragged out a small chest carved from old mountain oak. Its lid creaked open as if reluctant to reveal what was inside.
A pair of boots lay within. Pitch-black. Not glossy, not matte—just hungry, as if they swallowed the light around them. Thin lines like burning veins pulsed faintly across the leather, curling in patterns too intricate and too unnatural for human craftsmanship. The air around the boots felt wrong. Heavy. Watching.
Suri shivered visibly.
Granny slid a brittle scroll across the counter. “Here’s the description. I’ve tried to sell this a few times, but it always came back here. The buyers returned it after testing. I’ll lend it to you… if you dare. You may return it if it proves unsatisfactory.”
Kana unrolled the parchment.
[Belial’s Boots]
A fine boots made by gods but became cursed when they fell into mortal hands.
Every movement will make no sound.
[Cursed: Suffer Silence]
Stamina consumption for any movement will increase by 83%.
Kana swallowed hard. A silence curse with a crippling drawback? Hardly worth it. Yet… something about the weight of the boots made her curious. A little too curious.
“How much is this?” she asked.
“A gold coin,” Granny replied with a dismissive wave. “Since it’s cursed, you may return—”
“Kana, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Suri stepped back, arms wrapped around herself. “Those boots make my hair stand up.”
“Equipping cursed items is almost never worth it,” Leo said. “The danger always outweighs whatever benefit they give.”
“Don’t worry.” Kana lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to wear it.”
That wasn’t entirely true—but she needed them quiet for now.
“I’m planning,” Kana said slowly, “to have a cursed item collection.”
A beat of silence.
“We should stay away from Kana,” Boris muttered, taking a half-step back as if she’d suddenly started radiating dark energy.
Kana only smiled.
“I have another one here.” Kana said.
She reached toward the small pocket sewn inside her thick sweater—but the item didn’t come from cloth. She slipped her fingers into the pocket of air linked to her [Inventory], and drew out a small book, its cover trimmed with silver filigree, a faintly glowing gem embedded at the center. The soft light pulsed like a living heartbeat.
The Granny froze mid-breath. Her eyes widened in a way that made even Leo straighten up.
“Well now,” she whispered, voice suddenly reverent. “This… this is rare. If there’s a [Mage] class anywhere nearby, they’ll probably try to steal it from you outright.”
“That bad?” Boris said, inching closer.
“That tempting,” Granny corrected, turning the little book in her palm as though inspecting a newborn relic of ancient power. “It’s not the rarest… but rare enough. Dark blue background, hmmm. Not common. But not so rare either.”
She scribbled quickly on a parchment, her quill scratching like frantic insect legs.
Finally, she handed the parchment to Kana.
[Lightning Bolt]
Create a bolt of lightning to strike enemies.
Damage scales with class synergy and INT.
Kana’s grin spread slowly—wide, unguarded, hungry.
Her thoughts raced.
Lightning wrapped around her arms like a living serpent.
Lightning bursting from her dagger’s edge with every stab.
Lightning crackling at her feet as she blurred across the battlefield.
Without hesitation, Kana pressed her thumb against the glowing gem on the cover.
A soft chime echoed.
A window appeared before her eyes.
[Learn the skill book?]
[Yes]
[No]
She thought of [Yes].
But instead of the satisfying glow of new knowledge sinking into her mind… the air rippled.
A harsh vibration buzzed through her bones.
Lines of red text carved themselves into the air as if by the finger of an angry god.
[Error: Insufficient INT]
[Error: Class Not Compatible]
Kana froze. Then blinked.
Then blinked again.
The red letters hung there, judging her life choices.
Her imagined future self—lightning-clad, electrified, sparking in glory—shattered like cheap pottery.
Then she turned back to the glowing book, deflated.
“…Why did I choose the [Ranger] class?.”
