LThe morning wind at Camp Astoria drifted slowly, brushing against the canvas of the tents and making the small campfire crackle softly. Thin smoke rose straight upward before breaking apart, carried away by the gentle breath of the Farlios forest. Backpacks—belonging to Ardelle, Zeydan, Mireya, and Lina—were neatly arranged beside the main tent, their straps still tightly fastened, as if waiting to be called upon again.
Abdullah stood facing them.
His posture was straight, shoulders squared, a black wooden staff resting lightly in his left hand. His round black sunglasses reflected the morning light, concealing eyes that were difficult to read. The green turban on his head shifted gently with the wind.
The silence lingered a second longer than usual.
"Allow me to introduce myself," Abdullah finally said, his voice deep and calm, like a stone sinking into a lake without a splash.
"My name is Abdullah Al-Bahar Solstice."
Mireya blinked.
Her shoulders tensed slightly. Her lips moved, almost soundless.
(Huh…? Solstice.)
(That sounds like my family name… no. It's not even the same.)
Her hand reflexively brushed the karambit at her waist—a light touch, just enough to confirm it was real.
Abdullah continued, stepping one pace forward. He was now close enough that the air around them felt heavier.
"I will be your Teacher," he said, "so that your agent level may rise… to become Agent Ascendor."
Zeydan raised his hand halfway out of reflex, then lowered it again. He straightened his back.
"Wait," he said, polite but honest. "What is an Agent Ascendor?"
The corner of Abdullah's lips lifted faintly. He rotated his staff once, its tip touching the ground—TUK—a small sound that rang clearly amid the forest.
"A good question," he replied.
"Ascendor—derived from Latin. It means one who rises, one who climbs."
He paused, letting the word settle.
"Ascendor is an intermediate rank. An agent who has mastered basic elements, combat techniques, and is capable of executing missions independently." Abdullah raised his palm slightly, as if weighing something unseen.
"At this stage, you do not merely wield power—you carve the identity of your own power."
Zeydan's eyes glimmered faintly. Mireya narrowed her gaze, absorbing every word. Lina stood straighter, her jaw tightening.
"And right now," Abdullah continued, "you are still at the level of Agent Initor."
Ardelle stepped half a pace forward. The runic ornaments on her body chimed softly.
"In that case," she asked gently, "what is an Agent Initor?"
Abdullah gave a small nod, as if appreciating her timing.
"Initor also comes from Latin. It means beginner—one who initiates." His tone shifted, softer and deeper.
"It is the base level for agents who have just opened a gate to another world, or who have only recently been recruited. Your powers are not yet stable… but your potential is limitless."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Are there any more questions?" Abdullah asked.
Mireya raised her hand.
Halfway.
Then she stopped.
Her hand lowered slowly, fingers clenching at her side. Zeydan and Lina turned toward her almost simultaneously.
"What is it you wish to ask?" Abdullah said. His voice did not change—neither urging nor pressuring.
Mireya took a breath. Her chest rose and fell once. She looked straight at Abdullah, her gaze sharp… yet trembling slightly beneath the surface.
"Are you…" her lips tightened, "…my uncle?"
The air froze.
The campfire crackled louder.
Abdullah fell silent. He tilted his head slightly, as though weighing an old memory. Then, slowly, he raised his right hand and pointed toward the karambit at Mireya's waist.
"Hm… it is possible," he finally said.
"Because that karambit you carry… I was the one who forged it."
Mireya held her breath. Her heart pounded fiercely.
"But," Abdullah continued, lowering his hand,
"it seems we will not discuss that now."
He cleared his throat softly.
"Ahem. Since I am your Teacher… your first mission is simple."
Abdullah stepped back one pace, giving them space.
"Train. Prepare yourselves."
Zeydan blinked.
"Train… for what?"
"To fight me," Abdullah answered flatly.
"I will give you three days."
A subdued explosion of reactions followed.
"What!?" Zeydan blurted out before covering his mouth.
Lina tightened her grip, her shoulders stiffening. "Three days?"
Mireya smiled faintly—a smile closer to a challenge than humor. "I like challenges."
Inside Zeydan's head, a familiar voice surfaced—light and sarcastic.
"Three days to fight him? Heh. Interesting." Shadow
Ardelle looked at Abdullah with calm yet wary ruby eyes.
"I can do it," she said quietly.
Abdullah did not respond to her directly. Instead, he turned to Zeydan and Mireya.
"Zeydan. Mireya. Please hand over the crystals in your pockets."
Zeydan reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver metallic crystal engraved with an intricate symbol. Mireya did the same. They handed them over simultaneously.
Abdullah accepted both crystals, examining their carvings. His fingers traced the symbols carefully.
"Hm…" he murmured.
"These resemble tools made by Irsyad." He looked up.
"You obtained these from Irsyad, didn't you?"
Zeydan and Mireya nodded in unison.
"These tools can be made more efficient," Abdullah said. He slipped the crystals into his robe.
"I will modify them first."
He then took out three thin tablets from his bag—their surfaces dark, lined with faint glowing edges—and handed them one by one to Lina, Mireya, and Zeydan.
"For now," he said,
"the three of you will return to your own world using these."
Zeydan turned the tablet over in his hand.
"Pretty advanced," he muttered.
Lina stared at the screen, her jaw tightening.
"An interworld teleportation tablet?"
Mireya exhaled softly, her eyes gleaming.
"Press the screen," Abdullah said simply.
They exchanged glances.
Zeydan gave a small nod. Lina and Mireya followed.
Their fingers touched the screens.
A soft white light burst forth—not blinding, but enveloping. Their silhouettes faded within the glow, the air rippling gently like water disturbed at the surface.
In an instant—
The light vanished.
And the three of them were gone.
Silence returned to Camp Astoria.
Ardelle stared at the empty space for several seconds before turning to Abdullah.
"Are you certain you want to be their Teacher?"
Abdullah gazed up at the sky filtered through the leaves. The wind moved his turban gently.
"Of course," he replied firmly.
"Even though I carry a certain title…"
He smiled faintly—a smile that held a long shadow.
"The Cursed Teacher."
Ardelle did not respond right away.
"The Cursed Teacher…" she repeated at last.
Her voice was calm, nearly flat, but there was a subtle pressure beneath it—not fear, but the caution of a forest guardian accustomed to reading meaning behind words.
"That title does not appear without reason."
Abdullah smiled slightly.
He spun his wooden staff once in his hand, a small, natural motion—not for show. The tip of the staff then pressed firmly into the damp ground, leaving a shallow mark.
"That title," he said quietly, his voice deep and steady,
"I earned when I was young."
He turned his head slightly, though not fully toward Ardelle.
"When I was sixteen. Every time I became a teacher… for Agent Initor, Ascendor, even specialist agents—"
He paused.
"They always fell."
The wind stirred, carrying the scent of wet wood and dying embers.
"I fear," Abdullah continued,
"that you may share the same fate as they did."
Ardelle did not look offended.
Instead, her lips curved into a small, confident smile. She nodded gently, her silver hair swaying, the small horn on her forehead catching the morning light.
"Don't worry," she said softly.
"My savior."
She stepped half a pace forward, her posture upright yet relaxed.
"We will break your cursed title."
Abdullah was silent for a moment… then smiled more warmly than before.
"Thank you," he said.
"For saving them from the monsters in this forest."
He turned and walked toward the campfire, whose flames were beginning to fade. The red embers glowed dimly, releasing small crackling sounds. With a light motion, Abdullah scattered ash into the center of the fire.
The red glow slowly dimmed, settling into a stable, warm ember.
"One day," he said without turning around,
"you will see the results of my efforts."
Ardelle raised an eyebrow slightly.
"The results of your efforts?"
"Yes," Abdullah replied briefly.
He paused, then continued, his voice softer.
"And I am certain… my story is not my true destiny."
The wind blew again, colder this time.
"This is merely guidance," he went on,
"from someone I cannot see."
Ardelle narrowed her eyes, watching his back. Her elven instincts sensed something strange—not a threat, but a presence too vast to explain.
"Who is that person?" she asked.
Abdullah stopped walking.
Just one second.
A single second that felt far longer than it should.
"I am not sure of the answer," he said at last.
"But that person is—"
BOOOOM—CRAAASH!!
A thunderous roar suddenly shook the air.
Ardelle reflexively looked up at the sky, her hand nearly reaching for her bow. Abdullah also looked upward, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, yet his body already on guard.
The sky was clear.
No clouds.
No lightning.
Silence fell once more.
Abdullah let out a small breath, as if he had expected it.
"I thought so," he murmured.
"It has to be him."
He shook his head lightly.
"Why is it that… he never wants his name spoken?"
Ardelle remained silent. She did not ask again.
After a moment, Abdullah turned slightly toward her.
"By the way," he said casually,
"from now on, just call me 'teacher.'"
Ardelle smiled faintly.
She straightened, then bowed slightly in respect—not formal, but sincere.
"Understood," she replied firmly.
"Teacher."