Morning broke sharp, dawn light cutting through the dorm window like a blade. Einz woke to the hum—the city stirring awake, footsteps and voices filling the air. He'd heard from a passing recruit the night before that the Order's recruitment only happened once, this time of the year. Now, the dorms buzzed with it—doors creaking, packs slinging, the scent of polish and steel mixing with sleep.
Attendants had left bundles on their doorsteps overnight: clean, simple uniforms. Dark gray tunic and trousers, reinforced at the seams, and a cloak marked with the Order's silver seal. Just like Aurelia's, only new and less adorned. Einz slipped into his quietly, fabric sitting snug against his frame—far better than the scraps he'd lived in before. It felt strange, this layer of belonging, like putting on skin that wasn't quite his yet. Borin grumbled through his own change, beard catching on the collar, but he was ready fast, broadsword strapped across his back like a second spine.
They stepped out together—the dwarf stomping ahead, Einz following silently. The halls filled quickly, Recruits filled it from end to end—some yawning, some already chatting like they'd known each other for years. Attendants moved among them, giving directions. No one really noticed Einz; the air around him bent just enough to blur attention away.
Their first lesson was held in a low chamber. The walls were etched with faintly glowing maps of the Outerverse and twisted lines of runes. Benches circled a raised podium where an instructor stood waiting—a human with scarred hands and eyes hard as flint.
"Outer Verse Challenges," he barked as they settled. Borin took the nearest seat with a thud, while Einz slipped quietly into the corner.
The lesson came steady and heavy. The instructor spoke of delvers—how they got transported, not to a random location, but straight into the heart of danger. The Hole never sent anyone somewhere safe. You were dropped where the threat was thickest: to slay a beast the size of a keep, to survive a swarm that blotted out the sky, or to hold ground against creatures that bent light wrong. You have to think first and discover what you're expected to do. Pass that, and the rift acknowledged it—swallowed you back, sealing itself shut. Fail, and you stayed behind, until death claims you.
Borin lasted ten minutes before his head dropped, low snores rumbling like distant thunder. No one called him out for it. The instructor's eyes skimmed over him, locking only on those still awake.
Einz listened close. He'd never had this before—an actual class, a teacher, structure. His childhood had been alleys, scraps, and hunger; the only lessons came from surviving another day. Sitting here felt strange, almost undeserved. But still, he soaked it in.
At the end, his hand went up before he could stop himself.
"Is it possible to come back without completing a challenge?" he asked quietly. "Without the Hole acknowledging it? Without sealing one behind you?"
The instructor paused, brow furrowing.
Before he could answer, a voice from a few seats ahead spoke—clear, calm, and sure of itself.
"Impossible," the girl said. "The Hole doesn't let anyone out unfinished."
She didn't even turn when she said it. White hair brushed the edge of her shoulder, catching the faint light from the runes. A pair of pointed ears peeked through, marking her as elf—and from the way she carried herself, one who knew far more than most in the room.
The instructor gave a small nod. "Not that we know of yet," he said, eyes flicking between her and Einz. "Every return we've recorded ends the challenge. No exceptions so far."
Einz said nothing, lowering his hand slowly. But as the elf glanced back—silver eyes sharp and steady. Someone nearby murmured her name—Micah
Einz only shrugged, though the question stuck deep. His own return had been different—no beast, no great battle, no test he could name. Just years lost in the gray, and then coming across the way out. Was that survival enough? Or did he come across something else? The thought settled in cold.
When the lesson wrapped, the instructor left them with a last remark: this branch—the largest of all—handled recruitments and trainings. Every ne delver across the world came through here eventually. "So take it seriously," he said. "You're at the heart of the Order."
The class filed out, chatter rising again. Borin stretched with a groan, rubbing his eyes.
"Missed a bit," he muttered. "What'd I sleep through?"
Einz opened his mouth to answer—but stopped.A glint of gold caught his eye—hair like sunlight, impossible to miss even in the crowded hall. Aglaea.
She noticed him instantly, her crimson eyes curving into a smile that lingered just a bit too long.
"Well, if it isn't the human boy," she said, her voice light, teasing. "We meet again."
Einz folded his arms. "Boy? You don't look much older yourself. Thanks for helping—and for deeming me unworthy of being drunk dry."
Her laugh was quiet, smooth as silk. "Funny joke. But vampires with mana stopped needing blood long ago."
"Uh huh."
She stepped a little closer, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of something floral—mana-infused maybe, or just her.
"Besides," she said, eyes glinting, "you seemed far too interesting to waste as food."
Einz blinked. "Should I be flattered or concerned?"
Aglaea smiled, slow and knowing. "Both."
Then she turned, her golden hair catching the light as she walked away. Just before disappearing into the crowd, she looked over her shoulder.
"I'll be seeing you later, Einz."
Einz exhaled quietly, watching her go. "More talkative than last time," he muttered.