"A? We just slept and got an A?"
Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the camp as students emerged from their tents, stretching stiff limbs and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Sunlight spilled across the grounds, illuminating scattered gear, abandoned scrolls, and the soft morning haze. The memory of the dire wolf encounter still clung to everyone like a stubborn shadow, and the whispers carried a mix of awe, relief, and lingering fear.
"Didn't you hear? Something huge happened last night. Team One—Murray and Connor—they weren't around," a voice piped up, tinged with curiosity and the faintest hint of dread.
"What happened to them? They weren't eaten by that… that wolf monster, were they?" another student whispered, trembling. The memory of those glowing green eyes in the dark, jagged fangs dripping with saliva, and the sheer size of the creature made him shiver involuntarily.
"No, Senior Kain saved them. Murray and Connor… they were sent to the hospital," a third student replied, his voice low, as if fearing the dire wolf might still be lurking nearby.
"The hospital? Their injuries were that serious?"
By late morning, the camp slowly stirred to life. Students emerged cautiously from their tents, some limping, others still pale-faced from the terror of the previous night. Yet a collective buzz of excitement began to spread: all teams had been granted an A for the trial.
Even so, for some, the joy was hollow. Team One—the ones who had faced the dire wolf firsthand—still carried the indelible mark of fear. No grade could erase the memory of razor-sharp fangs, dripping saliva, and the predatory green glow that had burned itself into their minds. Even in broad daylight, the horrific vision lingered, a shadow chasing every movement.
"Farache, we got an A for nothing!" Xavier said with a grin, clasping his hands behind his head, the picture of someone who had lucked into victory without effort.
John raised an eyebrow, piecing together fragments of the rumors he had overheard. It wasn't difficult to deduce that Team One had indeed encountered the dire wolf. Kain's timely intervention had saved them, yes—but injuries were inevitable. Whether it was Murray or Connor who had suffered, he didn't yet know.
"It all comes down to strength. If it were us out there… the outcome could have been far worse," John admitted quietly, fists tightening at his sides. Though he had never faced a demon of that magnitude, he understood enough to know that survival alone would have been a miracle.
"Indeed," Xavier nodded gravely. "I heard a fully-grown dire wolf can exceed two meters in height. One swipe of its claw could tear a person apart." His expertise in magical creatures was evident; he knew why Team One's students were still visibly shaken.
"Honestly, I'm curious about high-tier magic," John added, a mixture of envy and awe in his voice. "It must be leagues beyond anything a novice mage like me can even imagine."
"High-tier magic?" Xavier laughed softly, shaking his head. "John, you didn't see the white flash last night? That wasn't just a spell—it was Senior Kain's high-tier magic."
"Just a white flash?"
"Not even close," Xavier said, admiration threading his voice. "High-tier magic isn't about flashy attacks alone. It's about precision, subtlety, and versatility. One well-placed spell can shift the battlefield without anyone noticing the full effect."
John felt a pang of inadequacy. Others, only a few years older, had already reached high-tier. The distance between him and them—the gap to mid-tier mastery—loomed like a mountain he had yet to climb.
"Big cities have resources we can't even imagine," Xavier added, shrugging. "Talent matters, but infrastructure and opportunity make a huge difference."
By midday, sunlight reaching its zenith, Kain finally stirred. He stretched leisurely, letting the morning light spill over his shoulders, the calm aura of a mage who had just survived a near-death encounter radiating from him. Outside the tent stood a familiar figure: Emily, the timid yet delicate water mage who had made a quiet impression the night before.
"Senior Kain," she said softly, lowering her head, her voice trembling with hope. "I… I want to learn magic from you."
Kain raised an eyebrow, observing her carefully. A water mage—her skills lay outside his primary specializations. Teaching her would be cumbersome, and at the moment, he had no desire to take on additional responsibilities.
"Learning magic can happen anywhere," he said slowly. "But you must find a suitable teacher. I do not specialize in water magic, and I cannot guide your cultivation."
Her large, expressive eyes—bright, earnest, and unwavering—locked onto his. "I do not wish to study water magic specifically. I want to learn from your experience and knowledge."
Before Kain could respond, a familiar teasing voice rang out:
"Just take her as a disciple, Kain. She's cute and could help with daily matters too. Convenient, isn't it?"
He didn't need to look to know who it was—Jayce, ever the meddler, grinning as if he had orchestrated this moment.
"This girl is a water mage, and a high-tier one at that," Kain said bluntly. "She's more suitable for you." In a single gesture, he shifted responsibility entirely onto Jayce, a sly act of playful sabotage.
"I… I should probably pass. I'm inexperienced—teaching someone now would be misleading," Jayce stammered, face paling at the thought of taking on a student.
Emily's expression fell instantly. She assumed both were rejecting her, that her talent wasn't enough. Kain felt a pang at her disappointment. He could take a disciple, yes—but only someone extraordinary, someone like Natalie Moore: brilliant, capable, and uncommonly beautiful.
"Fine," Jayce muttered, trying to regain some dignity, though a faint trace of jealousy lingered in his tone.
Kain's gaze lingered on Emily. "Work hard on your cultivation. With your talent, reaching mid-tier is achievable. But I have no intention of being your teacher. I'm sorry."
Emily lowered her head, accepting his words. Quietly, she withdrew, leaving Kain alone with his thoughts.
Jayce muttered under his breath, "You're too picky. Couldn't you just relax a little?"
"Quiet," Kain said sharply, his gaze brooking no argument. "A disciple must be exceptional. Only then can they truly grow. Anything less is a waste of time."
"True, I suppose," Jayce admitted reluctantly, the pout lingering despite his agreement.
The camp bustled as the morning progressed. Students whispered about the dire wolf, marveled at Kain's high-tier magic, and lamented the distance between themselves and those who had already reached mastery.
Kain remained seated, calm and observant. Teaching, leading, inspiring—these were responsibilities he took seriously. Yet taking a disciple required more than talent; it demanded resilience, brilliance, and a presence that could one day match, or even surpass, the master. Only then was mentorship truly justified.
Outside, the world remained uncertain and dangerous, full of hidden threats and trials. Inside the tent, Kain allowed himself a rare, fleeting sense of satisfaction. The right decisions made today could shape the victories of tomorrow—and for now, that small comfort was enough.