The noise in the exchange post swelled, then dipped as the door swung open.
Darian entered, sunlight streaming from behind him, casting his tall frame in sharp contrast against the dim interior. His Westlight Academy uniform was spotless, his boots polished, and not a trace of dust clung to him as if the dungeon itself had bowed out of his way.
Several Westlight students straightened up immediately.
"Finally, Darian's here."
"Now we'll see what a real hunt looks like."
For them, Darian wasn't just another student; he was their answer, a shield against the embarrassment of being outperformed by a lower-tier school.
They knew his family background: his father commanded one of the border garrisons and led the Velastra family; his mother was a senior mage in the federal forces. Darian trained alongside seasoned knights and mages since childhood. If anyone could analyze the numbers Lyra's group posted, it was him.
