"How is your training going?" Adom dodged a rushing messenger, his voice barely carrying over the morning crowd. The new checkpoints had turned their walk to Xerkes into a strange sort of dance - weaving between people, ducking under floating cargo, waiting as guards checked identification crystals and waved detection rods over passing mages.

  "Great!" Eren's grin threatened to split his face. "Yesterday I learned this thing with ice magic - just pulled it straight from the air! No water source! And last week-" He caught a few younger students staring, their whispers barely audible. His enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "Being the oldest first year is... weird. But hey, at least I can reach the top shelves without magic, right?"

  "Most important skill for a mage," Adom said dryly.

  "Obviously." Eren snorted. "Though you should see some of these kids. There's this one girl who keeps trying to levitate herself to reach books instead of just asking for help. Crashed into three shelves last week."

  They stopped at a checkpoint. The guard's crystal lit up blue, washed over them. "Go ahead," he grunted.

  "How's your mother?" Adom asked once they were through.

  "We moved actually. Near the market district - you know, where all those new shops opened up?" Eren gestured vaguely eastward. "Real stone walls, running water, even a garden for her herbs. She's already filled half of it."

  "That's good."

  "Yeah, but..." Eren glanced around, lowering his voice. "We still don't know who left that money. Mother was convinced it was some kind of trap at first. Spent two months trying to track down where it came from. But it was just... there. A bag of gold coins on our doorstep."

  Adom hummed noncommittally.

  The money had been his, of course. But explaining that would've been a nightmare. The questions would've been endless. Where did it come from? How did he get it? Each answer would've needed another explanation, another lie, another complication. And Eren's mother would've probably refused it outright if she knew it came from her son's friend.

  "She wouldn't touch it at first. Said it wasn't right, taking mystery money." Eren laughed. "Though that resolve lasted right until we found the house with the garden space. Funny how that works."

  Another checkpoint. Another very boring verification.

  "Oh hey," Eren suddenly perked up, "did you hear about the new combat training facility they're building? Supposed to have these amazing-"

  The crowd surged, cutting him off.

  Xerkes was packed with students heading to morning classes. The new security measures made the walk through the front gates take twice as long as usual.

  "First years started last week," Eren said, digging through his bag. "Professor Laurent's already hitting us with assignments. Says it's about 'building proper study habits early' or something." He pulled out a wrinkled schedule. "Hey, want to get lunch? I found this place near the library that has floating tables."

  "Sure."

  "Great! Meet me there at noon?" A bell rang from one of the towers. Eren's eyes went wide. "Crap, I'm late. Laurent's gonna kill me."

  "Go."

  Eren bolted, nearly running into two other students. "Noon!" he yelled back, vanishing into the crowd.

  Adom watched him disappear into the mass of black robes. Everything had worked exactly as intended. Merris had handled Eren's case personally, just like he'd promised during that meeting months ago. A late admission, special permission, even personal mentoring. It was the kind of discretion that told Adom he'd made the right call going to the Headmaster first.

  The crowd was thinning out and Adom had his own schedule to keep.

  The registration hall was mandatory first stop - every student had to confirm they'd answered the summon for the new term. The office was packed. Students filled every corner, their voices bouncing off the stone walls. A group of third-years were comparing summer dungeon dives. Two girls argued about which registration line would move faster. Someone had conjured little light butterflies that fluttered near the ceiling, probably out of boredom.

  Ten lines snaked through the room, each leading to a clerk behind a crystal-powered terminal. Adom picked the shortest one, wedging himself between a tall guy reading a spellbook and a girl who kept checking her reflection in a pocket mirror.

  "Did you hear about the new combat instructor?" the guy with the book asked no one in particular. "Supposedly trained in-"

  "The Southern Isles," the mirror girl finished. "Everyone's heard that rumor. Probably not true."

  "My cousin works in administration. She says-"

  The line shuffled forward. Adom tuned them out, watching the clerks process students. Despite the crowd, they were actually moving pretty quickly. Each student stepped up, stated their name, their student number, and moved on.

  The mirror girl stepped up to the clerk's desk next. The clerk behind it was small - really small. Not a dwarf, since he lacked the broad shoulders and thick beard. Definitely not a gnome - no pointed ears or glowing eyes. And halflings were always plump with rosy cheeks. This was just... a very short human.

  The girl stared for a second too long.

  "Human," the clerk said flatly, not looking up from his crystal.

  "Huh?"

  "Not cursed, not enchanted, just short. Name and ID?"

  "Oh! I didn't mean to- I wasn't-" The girl's face went red. "I'm so sorry, I just thought-"

  "That I must be something else because humans don't usually come in this size?" His tone was dry. "Name and ID, please."

  "Right, um, Serra Voss, ID 47891, and I really didn't-"

  "Was I transformed by an angry mage?" The clerk's expression hadn't changed. "Did a witch curse my bloodline? Am I secretly royalty in disguise?"

  "No! I mean- I wouldn't-"

  "Next time I'll wear a sign. 'Warning: Just Short.'" He tapped his crystal. "You're confirmed. Please stop apologizing and move along."

  Adom tried not to smile as the mortified girl practically ran from the desk. The clerk finally looked up, mouth twitching.

  "I shouldn't mess with them like that," he said. "But sometimes it's too easy. Name and ID?"

  "Adom Sylla. ID 29989"

  The crystal hummed blue. "Confirmed. Next!"

  *****

  The dorm room hadn't changed much since last term. Same walls, same furniture, but a different view of the eastern courtyard. An after effect of moving buildings. Sam was making his bed when Adom walked in, wrestling with sheets for no reason at all.

  "Look who finally showed up," Sam said without turning around. "Registration line that bad?"

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  "Got stuck behind this girl who managed to offend a clerk just by looking at him." Adom dropped his bag on his bed. "How was the trip back from Kati?"

  "Boring. Six days felt longer than the whole three months we spent there." Sam gave up fighting with the sheets and turned around. "But hey, heard they're actually changing the curriculum this year. For all the paths."

  "They say that every year." Adom started unpacking, setting his books on the shelf above his bed.

  "No, but this is different." Sam's voice dropped, turned serious. "My father had this merchant friend over for dinner last week. Guy trades with half the noble houses in the capital. He said they're talking about bringing back the old rules - you know, the ones from before Sir Gaius changed everything? About using younger mages in the army?"

  Until fifteen years ago, the Empire had used mages as soon as they finished their fourth year - kids who were barely thirteen or fourteen, shipped off to expand the Empire's borders. It had worked, for a while. Centuries, actually.

  Young mages were easier to command, less likely to question orders. Any Sundarian mage over twenty-five today was cut from a different cloth, tougher than the new generation, but carrying scars that went deeper than just battle wounds. Sir Gaius had spent his entire career fighting to change that tradition, arguing that seven years of proper training would create better mages and better soldiers. He'd won that fight, eventually.

  The thought hit Adom like a punch to the gut. What if his actions with the prince, Kim, Dragon's breath, had somehow led to this? The Empire reverting to its old ways, sending children to war...

  "Stop making that face," Sam said, throwing a pillow at him. "They're not going to suddenly start shipping us off to war. And if they try, I'll protect you."

  Adom chuckled, more from habit than humor. "You?"

  "Why, yes. I told you, I'm gonna become a hero."

  "We should get going," Adom said, heading for the door. "The Path Assembly starts in ten minutes, and I don't want to explain to Crowley why we're late on the first day."

  The Path Assembly. Where third-year battle mages would learn exactly what horrors awaited them this term. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn. Not because of Crowley's infamous "welcome" speech, but because of what Sam had said about the old ways returning.

  He really hoped he was wrong about the connection to the prince. And he really hoped Sam was wrong about the rumors.

  "Race you there?" Sam grabbed his robe, already moving toward the door.

  "We're not first years anymore."

  "Yeah, we're third years. Which means we can actually use speed enhancement properly now."

  "Crowley would kill us."

  "Only if he catches us." Sam grinned. "Come on, one last bit of fun before they turn us into proper soldiers?"

  "Haha. You've become quite the clown, haven't you, Sammenel?"

  "I'm the whole circus, come on! The buildings shifted places, so we might actually be late if we don't leave soon!"

  *****

  "This year's curriculum will be different."

  Somehow, those six words made the room fall silent. Professor Crowley stood at the front of the lecture hall when he uttered them, his dark robes making him look more like a shadow than a man.

  Adom sat near the back, eyes wide, heart racing, scanning the faces of his fellow third-year battle mages. seventy-three students. He knew some of them, could probably list their strengths and weaknesses if asked. Sometimes he forgot he wasn't really their age - moments like this brought it all crashing back.

  "The academy has undergone several adjustments," Crowley continued. "The council has decided that theoretical knowledge alone is no longer sufficient. Starting this term, all third-year battle mages will be required to obtain an adventurer's license before proceeding with their studies."

  The room exploded with reactions.

  "What? That's fourth-year material!"

  "An adventurer's license? Now?"

  "This is gonna be awesome!"

  A girl in the front row - Rachel, who could barely manage a shield spell - looked like she might faint. Two rows ahead of Adom, Marcus, one of Damus' friends. was practically vibrating with excitement.

  "Sir," a trembling voice called out. "What... what happens if we can't get the license?"

  Crowley's expression didn't change. "Then you will continue attempting the exam until you succeed. Without a license, you cannot advance to the next term."

  More chaos. Someone actually started crying.

  "But that's not fair!"

  "We're not ready!"

  "My cousin failed the exam three times!"

  "The world-" Crowley stopped himself, let out a long breath. "Silence."

  The word carried weight. Every whisper died.

  "I understand your frustration," he said, softer now. "This isn't what any of you expected when you chose this path."

  "Well, I don't see why everyone's so worried!" a student jumped up from his seat. "If you didn't want to face real danger, why become battle mages in the first-"

  His lips sealed themselves shut. Not physically - just an illusion that made speaking impossible.

  "I said silence, Mr. Tank." Crowley's tone was dry. "Please sit down."

  Tank dropped back into his chair, face red. Someone snickered.

  "As I was saying," Crowley continued, "we understand this is a significant change. The faculty is still working out many of the details. But know this - none of you will face these challenges alone. Every professor in this academy, myself included, will be available to help prepare you. We're not throwing you to the wolves unprepared."

  He paused, looking around the room. "This isn't punishment. It's adaptation. The world is changing, and we must change with it. But we'll do it together."

  Adom watched some of the tension leave his classmates' shoulders. Not all of it, but enough.

  "Any questions?"

  Adom was on his feet before he realized he'd moved.

  "Yes, Mr. Sylla?"

  Sam pinched Adom's sleeve. "Don't," he whispered. "Please don't get us in trouble on the first day."

  But Adom couldn't stop himself. The question had been eating at him since Sam mentioned those rumors. "Is this because of the prince?"

  The room went dead quiet. Then the whispers started.

  "Wait, Sylla?"

  "The white hair - that's him, right?"

  "The one who fought the prince?"

  "I heard he almost killed him-"

  "No way, I heard the prince was winning until-"

  "Silence." Crowley didn't raise his voice, but the whispers died instantly.

  Adom remained standing, ignoring Sam's quiet groan beside him. He kept his eyes on Crowley, waiting.

  The professor studied him for a long moment. "I assume you're all aware of the Empire's current political situation," he said finally. "I won't insult your intelligence by pretending everything is fine. Things are... complicated. Many matters are still being discussed at levels far above this classroom."

  He paused. "Nothing is set in stone yet. If - and I stress if - any developments directly affect your education, you will be informed. That's all I can say on the matter."

  Adom sat down slowly, his mind racing.

  "Any other questions?"

  The room stayed quiet. Adom barely heard the rest of Crowley's speech, too lost in thoughts of what he might have set in motion.

  Sam elbowed him. "You just had to ask, didn't you?"

  "Yeah," Adom said quietly. "I did."

  *****

  "-Me? Excuse-"

  The words drifted past Adom like smoke. He was staring at the wall of the Pentoss Guild, but he wasn't really seeing it.

  Someone was talking.

  The voice was there, but the words weren't making it through. Like trying to hear underwater. Something about forms and signatures and deadlines.

  The timeline wasn't supposed to go this way. Kids getting their licenses early, the old ways creeping back in. It was becoming unpredictable. And that made things much more complicated.

  A hand landed on his shoulder. Adom blinked, pulled back to reality.

  Sam was grinning awkwardly beside him. "She's talking to you!"

  Adom turned. The guild's registration clerk - a woman with graying hair tied in a neat bun - was smiling at him from behind her desk. The kind of patient smile you give someone who's clearly not paying attention.

  "Having second thoughts about the exam?"

  "No, I- sorry, I was just..." Adom shook his head, trying to clear it. "The exam details. Could you explain them again?"

  The clerk's smile didn't waver. She probably dealt with nervous students all day. "Of course," she said, shuffling some papers. "You'll be given seven days in a D-rank dungeon. Your goal is to reach the secure checkpoint by dawn of the seventh day. Simple enough."

  Sam frowned. "That's it?"

  "Oh no," she smiled. "That's just the baseline requirement. Your rank as an adventurer will be determined by what you bring back. Monster parts are worth points - the rarer or more dangerous the monster, the higher the points. Some examinees just rush to the checkpoint. Others..." she shrugged. "Well, let's just say we've had people emerge with enough points to skip straight to B-rank."

  "And if we don't make it to the checkpoint in time?" Adom asked.

  "Then you fail. Simple as that." She pulled out two forms. "The next exam starts in two weeks. Should I put your names down?"

  Adom stared at the registration form. Two weeks to prepare for a seven-day dungeon dive. And that was just to get the license - the bare minimum they needed to continue their studies.

  "Yes," he said finally. "Both of us."

  The clerk slid the forms across her desk. "You're young, but we've had plenty of students like you lately. Don't worry too much - you both look capable enough."

  "Thank you," Sam said, gathering the papers.

  They made their way out of the guild hall, weaving through the afternoon crowd. The place was packed - students filled every corner, all here for the same reason. But they weren't alone. Grizzled veterans lounged against walls, comparing equipment. Regular folk lined up at other windows, seeking their own licenses for their own reasons. The Pentoss Guild hadn't seen this much traffic in years.

  Outside, the sun was starting to dip. Sam glanced at Adom. "Okay, what's wrong? You've been somewhere else all day. Even at lunch with Eren."

  "I know," Adom said. "Just... a lot to think about."

  Who was he kidding? Deep down, he knew the ripples from his actions were only beginning. But as the afternoon wore on, he'd started to rationalize it. He'd wanted to take the adventurer exam anyway - maybe next year, but this was actually better. An adventurer's license meant freedom of movement, diplomatic privileges, access to restricted areas. The higher your rank, the more doors opened.

  He needed to reach Silverkeep, where the Order was. This could be his starting point.

  No use letting guilt eat at him. Sooner or later, this would have happened anyway.

  Sam nudged his shoulder. "Hey, I'm tired of thinking. Want to get a frosty at Weird Stuff? We've got two weeks before we have to be serious about training."

  Adom looked at his friend - really looked at him for the first time that day. Sam was grinning, waving the exam forms like they were concert tickets instead of potentially life-changing documents.

  "Yeah," Adom said, feeling himself smile. "Why not?"

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