"You tricked me!" Jasmine stammered, her face still red as a tomato. She was practically vibrating with mortification.
"You both said you'd shout with me, but I was the only one who did it. Now what will the others think of me? What about everyone else who heard? They'll think I'm—" she mumbled the rest under her breath, too quiet to catch.
I didn't bother paying much attention. She could sulk all she wanted; the entertainment was already done.
The fleeting look of shock and embarrassment on her face had been worth the momentary inconvenience.
Because, sure enough, after a few seconds two figures started walking toward us.
Well, that was obvious—they were bound to show up sooner or later.
What wasn't obvious was their identity.
I squinted slightly, my gaze narrowing on the approaching students. "Well… would you look at that," I muttered under my breath, my lips twitching upward. "Seems like we got someone special in our team."
Two Elven students—one male, one female.
The boy barely interested me. Pointed ears, tall, sharp features—he was the typical proud elf type. His gaze was haughty, his posture stiff with a noble pride that was almost tiresome. Nothing worth a second look.
But the girl…
The girl was different.
She wore the same academy uniform as the rest of us, yet on her, the bland fabric looked like royal attire. Her grace wasn't something a uniform could dim. Her movements carried a natural elegance that screamed nobility. Her pale hair shimmered faintly even under the afternoon light, her eyes sharp yet carrying a quiet softness.
My breath left me in a low chuckle. "Well, what do you know… I've had the honor of meeting the second heroine already. How fast fate throws its pieces at me."
As the two closed in, Wilson leaned closer to me, his voice a hushed whisper dripping with disbelief.
"Wow… Lord Evan, am I dreaming, or has the goddess truly shined her light upon us? Is that really the Elven Princess walking this way?"
I smirked, not taking my eyes off her.
Her presence was undeniable—even the chatter around us seemed to dull, students stealing glances in her direction. Whispers followed in her wake, and the air itself felt different around her.
"Well, buddy," I murmured back, just loud enough for him to hear, "looks like your goddess decided to favor you today. Count yourself blessed."
Of course, the truth was different. Blessed? Maybe. Doomed? More likely. Heroes and heroines were never just pretty ornaments in the story.
They were catalysts. Trouble in polished skin.
And trouble had just walked straight into my team.
"Well, looks like our team is finally complete," I said, slipping my hands into my pockets. "It's a pleasure to be with you two esteemed selves."
The elf boy's lips curved into a faint smile, but his words carried a dry edge.
"I'll say the same… though, did you really have to shout just to get us here? We would've come regardless."
At that, Jasmine's head dipped so low I thought she might bury her face into the dirt, her cheeks burning red.
I chuckled, brushing off the tension.
"Ha… well, let's just say it's a human way of calling each other. You'll get used to it sooner or later,"
I clapped my hands once, drawing their eyes.
"So, how about we get down to business? Let's discuss strategy."
The elf boy snorted, folding his arms.
"Strategy? Do we even need to? Why not just dive straight in, wipe out every beast we see, and walk out with the points? Easy. Simple."
I tilted my head, smirking.
"Well, sure, if it were just about flexing. But this is a team test. Points won't just fall into our laps because someone swung a little harder. Doesn't hurt to plan a little—unless you're afraid talking might dull your blade?"
He narrowed his eyes, but didn't argue. The princess gave a soft laugh, clearly amused by the jab.
"So, let's start simple—what weapons does everyone use? As for me, I'm a spear user." I tapped the shaft strapped to my back for emphasis.
"I'm with the shield," William said, solid as ever.
"I–I'm… a support mage," Jasmine whispered, fumbling with her words.
The elf boy gave her a side–eye. "So you're the one who shouted earlier, huh? Well, whatever. I'm a bow user."
"And I," the princess said with a composed elegance that felt almost rehearsed, "am a mage—specializing in elemental and attack magic."
My brows lifted. "Oh? That's a surprise. I thought elves usually leaned toward the bow."
The elven boy frowned sharply. "How rude."
The princess just chuckled softly instead of taking offense. "It's fine. I've grown used to people expecting that of me. But Lord Evan… I'm not like the others. I'm different—special, if you want to call it that."
Special, huh? No wonder she and Emilia were close—same profession. Birds of a feather.
"Hmm, I will take your words, then let's go with this plan then." I said after hearing everyone out. We kept tossing ideas, adjusting here and there, until something resembling a proper strategy took shape.
The elven boy scoffed at the complexity, but even he had to admit that our "simple" plan of "dive in and kill" was a terrible one. We settled on a basic formation and a few magical counters.
A few minutes later, a deep, commanding voice cut through the noise of the field.
"Alright, that's enough." Brandt Stoneborn's tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. "You've had enough time to group up and discuss. Now—without further delay—let's begin the test."
With a casual snap of his fingers, the illusion peeled away.
The empty space before us rippled, like glass shattering, until the magnificent form of the dungeon revealed itself—towering gates of stone, carved with runes that pulsed faintly, a darkness yawning beyond like the maw of some ancient beast.
Wow… A collective gasp rippled through the students.
"Alright," Brandt's firm voice cut through the awe, pulling us back. "One by one, as I call your team, you'll step forward and enter. Once you cross the threshold, you'll be teleported to random points inside the dungeon. Your progress will be tracked automatically—every beast you slay, every point earned, will be recorded directly into the clips you were given. NOW MOVE."
After the cue, students began stepping forward as their team numbers were called. One by one, they vanished through the dungeon's gate, each group swallowed into the unknown.
-----
--
Groups of students were called one after another, each vanishing beyond the shimmering dungeon gate.
"Group Sixteen, step forward," Brandt announced.
The team moved as ordered. The moment they crossed the threshold, a violent tremor rippled through them, and light warped like shattered glass.
When their vision cleared, the academy grounds were gone—replaced by the damp stone walls and eerie silence of an unknown cavern.
"Alright, everyone," the leader's voice steadied the group. "Just like we planned—stick to the formation. Luna, take the rear and provide support. Arthur, Elara—hold the middle. I'll cover the center line. And Lucas…" he narrowed his eyes at the boy in front, "you're on point. The vanguard is yours."
He paused, frowning. "Lucas. Are you even listening?"
Lucas was lost in thought until Arthur snapped at him.
"Hey, are you even listening to what Aldric said?"
"O-Oh… y-yeah. I just—could you repeat it?"
Arthur groaned. "Seriously? You're gonna keep spacing out like that when dungeon beasts show up?"
"N-No."
"Haaah, fine. I'll repeat it one last time."
As Aldric, the team's leader, went over the plan again, Lucas's thoughts drifted away.
His mind was a storm, a chaos that refused to quiet.
Was it when he'd been beaten down by Evan and his lackeys, realizing just how powerless he really was?
Or was it after, when he became their favorite punching bag, their twisted amusement, until the bullying reshaped him into something hollow?
No… it wasn't just that. His head was filled with something heavier.
Did I make things worse myself? Lucas wondered. For someone like me—a commoner—I should've known my place long ago. People of low birth, with low blood, aren't meant to chase dreams beyond their reach.
He thought back to the tale Evan had once told him in that cold, detached voice—back when Lucas had been sprawled on the bathroom floor.
A boy who dreams big, huh?
Perfectly suited for someone like me. Or maybe… it was a story about me all along.
Lucas scoffed inwardly. He was never the type to chase things beyond his reach, never the fool who'd gamble for something outside his pocket.
And yet, knowing all that, he still kept falling—again and again—for someone who was far beyond his league.
"Emilia…" he murmured quietly.
He remembered the first time he met her. His mother worked as a nanny at Viscount Nightshade's household. Being a single mother, she couldn't leave him alone at home when he was still so small.
After gaining permission, she had taken him along to the main house.
And it was there… that he first saw her.
Both Lucas and Emilia were of the same age, and as time passed, they inevitably grew closer, becoming friends.
But that wasn't the real reason, Lucas thought. It wasn't time that bound us together—it was her kindness.
The way she never looked at me like a commoner. The way she always brimmed with curiosity, asking questions that no noble ever would. She wanted to know how we lived outside those polished walls, what the world was like beyond the gates of her house, what it felt like to be ordinary.
That was Emilia—always reaching out, always breaking the distance that should have kept us apart.
"Okay, flock, let's get moving." At Aldric's order, the team began to advance into the dungeon.
So where did everything start to crumble? Was it the moment I realized my feelings for her? Or was it when jealousy sank its teeth into me—the day I heard she was engaged to someone else, someone that wasn't me?
Lucas let out a hollow laugh under his breath. Haha… what a joke. I really was nothing more than a foolish boy, wasn't I?
Crikk… Criek…
"It seems we've got our first encounter. Everyone, into position."
From the shadows ahead, a herd of goblins poured into view, their shrieks rattling against the dungeon walls.
"Charge!" Aldric barked.
"Arthur, take the left flank! Lucas, the front!"
"Yes, sir!"
The team surged forward. Steel clashed with crude blades, cries of goblins mixing with the rush of magic.
Lara's support spells shimmered across their formation, Arthur swung his mace with crushing blows, Elara loosed arrows that pierced through goblin throats, and Aldric's axe carved wide arcs of destruction.
But the one who drew every eye was Lucas.
His sword danced—swift, sharp, unyielding. Each strike cut clean, goblin heads flying, bodies collapsing.
Why did I challenge Evan that day? Lucas thought, blade flashing as another goblin fell. Was it for Emilia? Did I truly believe I was showing her Evan's true face?
A goblin lunged—its head was severed before it even reached him.
Or… was it only me? My pride? Did I think I was some kind of hero?
With a powerful slash, Lucas split another creature clean in half, blood spraying across the stone floor.
Yet, even in that fight… I lost. Beaten down. Humiliated. And still—he surrendered first. A hollow victory left in my hands.
Another goblin tried sneaking from behind. Lucas twisted and kicked, sending the beast crashing against the wall with a sickening thud.
Haa… I still remember it. That victory—how awful it felt. I remember her eyes… Emilia's eyes. First on Evan. Then on me. Confused, uncertain… like she regretted everything.
A sharp memory tore through his chest like a blade.
And I remember her running. Running after him. While I lay there on the ground, bloodied, broken… unseen.
A few goblins panicked, their shrieks turning desperate as they tried to scatter, scrambling for any escape.
Lucas didn't let them. His blade cut down their fleeing backs without hesitation, each swing ruthless, final.
Is this what I've become? he thought bitterly. Some kind of villain, forcing myself into their love story… a wretched interruption no one asked for.
The memory stabbed deeper than any blade.
The infirmary. The white sheets stained with the scent of medicine and regret. And Emilia—her eyes red, tears streaming as she looked at him.
"Why, Lucas? Why? Just why did you have to do that? What did you gain from it?"
The words clung to him, heavier than the sword in his hand.
I thought I had given her up… no, I thought I had given up this one-sided love the moment her tears fell that day.
After that, every waking hour was consumed by training, day and night, hammering away at my weakness. And yet—why? Why does it still hurt, this sharp pain inside me, when I heard she locked herself away in her room.
With the last of the goblins writhing at his feet, Lucas drove his blade down mercilessly, silencing its screech.
Was it me? Am I the reason things between them fell apart? Did I push it, break it, force the distance between them?
Do I try to fix it? Or should I tear it all down completely?
What even can I do? Crawl back to Evan and beg forgiveness? Throw away the last scrap of pride I cling to? But what pride do I even have left, when I humiliated myself before everyone with that so-called duel of honor?
He twisted the blade, ending the goblin's life. Silence blanketed the field.
"Never thought loving someone could be this damn painful…" he muttered under his breath.
"Hm? What was that? You talking to the goblins?" Arthur asked, raising a brow.
Lucas shook his head. "Nothing. Just… paying my respects."
Arthur snorted. "Weird one, aren't you? But still—you did good. Didn't expect it. Thought you were just the loudmouth who picked a fight with the Ravenshade heir. Guess you're a decent teammate after all."
"…I'll take that as a compliment."
Another voice chimed in, colder. "Well then, commoner boy… let's move."