The night before battle, the forest was silent, broken only by the crackle of a campfire. Connor McCloud sat across from Professor Master Muscle, his mind drifting to memories buried deep beneath years of blood and steel.
The professor had asked a simple question, one that clawed at Connor's past. The mercenary hesitated, but the professor's calm gaze urged him on. Slowly, Connor recounted his first mission—a massacre when he was only ten. He had joined a Meteor extermination squad to do chores, but the swarm was larger than expected. In the chaos, a comrade yelled for him to run. He did… until he turned back and saw the man crushed to death beneath the arms of a monstrous Meteor.
That moment became the scar that shaped his life. The day a terrified boy awakened his Gift and became a Highlander. He called it luck, though he knew it was nothing of the sort.
The professor listened quietly, then spoke of his own past. His voice was steady, yet tinged with the weight of regret. He, too, had once lost those who trusted him—his own students. Back when he was a new professor, arrogant and untested, he had led his class into a field mission to destroy a Meteor nest hidden in the mines. A single misjudgment doomed them all.
He had approved the use of high-powered magic, and the spell collapsed the entire mine. Trapped beneath the rubble, powerless, he clawed at the stones with bleeding hands, praying for the strength to save them. But when he woke in the academy's infirmary, only he had survived. The others were never found.
Haunted by guilt, he swore to change. He discarded his weak, naive self and rebuilt his body and spirit. The frail scholar became the man known today as Master Muscle. His strength was no longer just physical—it was a vow to never repeat that failure.
Now, as he stood again in the wilderness, guiding new students through another field mission, he revealed his purpose. It was atonement. He could never save those who were lost, but he could still protect the living.
Connor listened in silence. The professor's words mirrored his own fears—of leading others, of losing them, of being responsible for their deaths. He realized he had avoided forming bonds for that very reason. But the professor reminded him that strength wasn't just muscle or talent—it was also the courage to trust others.
Connor finally admitted it: he was afraid. Yet in his own way, he had found companionship again. His team—Lanius, Lug, Anastasia, Whipney, and Maiael—were all chaotic and flawed, yet precious. The professor smiled knowingly, telling him that caring so much was proof that he wasn't as cold as he claimed.
Before leaving, the professor gave him one final piece of advice: "Don't be afraid of relationships. When you struggle, ask for help. You're not alone."
As the professor disappeared into the shadows of the forest, Connor muttered into the dark, half-grinning, "There's more than one," his words swallowed by the night.
The Next Day
The eighth day of the mission dawned. The group crouched low among the bushes, close enough to see the Meteor nest with the naked eye. Through Whipney's sound barrier, even a whisper wouldn't give them away.
In the center of the clearing stood the leader—a three-meter-tall Meteor shaped like a monstrous bird, its feathers glinting black and its crest wreathed in violet flame. Two glowing magic crystals embedded in its forehead marked it as a high-ranking beast.
Connor quickly assessed the situation. Forty-two Meteors. Dangerous numbers, but most lacked crystals, meaning they were lesser threats. He laid out their formation: Lanius would suppress the air's power, Maiael would engage the front, Anastasia and Whipney would guard the flanks, and Lug would handle the rear.
As always, Lug grumbled, but eventually complied. Connor's authority held steady. He himself would stay mid-formation, supporting wherever needed. And if things went wrong, the professor would intervene.
Master Muscle hefted his massive tonfa—an iron pillar reinforced with steel, more a siege weapon than a club. Its weight alone radiated confidence.
Connor explained the final plan: to isolate and defeat the leader first. Once it fell, the rest of the Meteors would scatter.
Just as he drew his sword and prepared to signal the attack, the professor spoke again, his tone sharp and firm.
"Don't die."
It was simple, yet heavy.
The students exchanged faint smiles, their tension melting into shared resolve. Connor couldn't help but laugh, remembering the professor's story from the night before.
With that, the group rose from the shadows—mercenaries, mages, and warriors united not by duty, but by trust—and charged toward the Meteor nest.
The hunt had begun.