After a full night of rest, the group finally gathered themselves—minds clearer, bodies steadier, and nerves no longer frayed by exhaustion.
They sat around a circular table, the quiet hum of the room broken only when Harkel leaned forward.
"All right," he said, folding his arms. "Here's the recap."
He placed his wristwatch onto the table. A soft light projected upward, forming a floating display.
"As you can see, we're currently in fifth place in the Clinton Games."
A few heads tilted. No one looked thrilled, but no one complained either.
"Personally, I would've liked us to be higher," Harkel continued, voice calm but edged with frustration. "But beggars can't be choosers."
The display shifted, showing weapon readouts—cracked cores, dulled edges, warning symbols flashing red.
"Now for the problems. First—most of our beast weapons are either destroyed or heavily damaged. That gives us two options."
He raised two fingers.
"One, we try asking our assigned weapon class for replacements. But realistically? I doubt they'll hand us anything for free."
He raised a second finger.
"Two, we head into the city and buy new weapons outright. The issue there is obvious—it would drain most of our funds."
Riven raised his hand, straight-backed like he was sitting in class.
"Option three."
Harkel paused. "Go on."
"In about six days, the academy's beast outing starts," Riven said. "We could gather beast gemstones, use the Shop tab, and make new beast weapons ourselves. We wouldn't even need a forger anymore."
A few faces lit up at that.
But Harkel shook his head almost immediately.
"The first half of that plan is solid—and we'll consider it," he said. "But the second half is wrong. We still need a forger."
Confusion rippled through the group.
"If we can make our own weapons," Leo said, "what's the point of a forger?"
Harkel exhaled, then tapped the projection. It shifted again.
"There are two types of beast weapons," he explained. "Normal beast weapons—and unique beast weapons."
He glanced around to make sure everyone was following.
"A normal beast weapon boosts strength, durability, things like that. A unique beast weapon does all that and carries a special trait—something inherited directly from the beast itself."
Riven's eyes narrowed in understanding.
"Like how absorbing gemstones gave me resistances," he said.
"Exactly," Harkel replied. "A unique beast weapon works the same way. The problem is, from what I've seen in the Shop, weapons crafted without a forger can hold a gemstone—but they most likely won't manifest a trait."
"So we can make weapons," Jordan said slowly, "just not special ones."
"Right," Harkel said. "Which means once we get our units up, we still need to find a forger."
The room settled as the explanation sank in.
"Now," Harkel continued, expression darkening, "onto our two biggest problems."
The projection vanished.
"First—the assassin. We still don't know who ordered the hit. Or if it was even meant for us specifically."
No one spoke.
"All I can say for now is that I've already contacted the elders and the head of my clan. They'll investigate it eventually. Until then, we stay alert. Whoever sent that assassin could have more ready."
Then his gaze shifted.
"And second… Luka."
Everyone turned.
Luka sat stiffly in his chair, black hair streaked faintly with red. His skin looked pale—almost drained—and his eyes were unfocused, like he hadn't fully woken up.
"Hey," Jordan said carefully. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Luka replied, rubbing his stomach. "I'm just… really hungry."
He blinked, glancing down at himself.
"…Do I have abs now?"
Despite the tension, a few snorts escaped the room.
Luka had always been skinny—bony, even—but now he could feel solid muscle beneath his shirt. Pectorals. Definition.
"One of us will get you food after the meeting," Harkel said. "Now, here's the real issue."
He tapped the table.
"We don't know what Luka is. Or why this happened. But we do know one thing—sunlight."
The mood instantly shifted.
"We tested artificial light. No effect. But direct sunlight burns Luka's skin almost instantly. If his entire body is exposed for more than two seconds…"
Harkel didn't finish the sentence.
"…He's dead."
Silence.
"So we need a countermeasure," Harkel said. "Ideas?"
"We could keep an umbrella with him at all times," Riven suggested.
Harkel shook his head. "Every planet we go to will be in broad daylight. That wouldn't work in combat."
Leo leaned forward. "What if we build him a full-body suit? Something that blocks sunlight entirely."
"Even if that were possible," Harkel replied, "we don't have the materials—or the units."
Joey raised his hand halfway. "…I've got one. Actually—never mind. That's dumb."
"I've got one."
Luka stood up suddenly.
All eyes snapped to him.
"But I need to test something first."
Before anyone could stop him, Luka walked toward the window. Thin rays of sunlight slipped through the glass, bright enough to confirm it was morning.
He stopped inches away.
The memory of burning pain clawed at him.
"Don't be scared," he whispered. "Don't be scared."
He reached out—
Then flinched back instantly.
His breathing quickened.
Finally, he clenched his jaw and shoved his hand into the light.
Pain flared—but not like before.
It wasn't burning.
It was… tingling. Like standing too close to a heater.
A soft chime echoed.
[System: +0.01 Sun Resistance]
Luka yanked his hand back, staring at it in disbelief.
His eyes lit up.
He quickly explained what happened, words tumbling over each other.
Harkel's expression shifted.
"…Slow," he said. "But it works."
He nodded once. "All right. Here's today's plan. Luka stays here and exposes himself to sunlight through the window, gradually building resistance. Someone will bring him breakfast."
He glanced around the room.
"Everyone else—go to class."
The group nodded.
"This meeting is adjourned."
Chairs scraped back as everyone filed out.
Luka stepped back into the sunlight, letting it wash over his entire body.
[System: +0.05 Sun Resistance]
"…This is going to take a while," Luka muttered as the notifications kept coming.
The five boys made their way out of the dormitory, footsteps echoing softly as they entered the main Academy building. Their destination was simple—the cafeteria—but the moment they pushed open the massive doors, something felt… wrong.
Almost instantly, they could feel it.
Eyes.
Dozens of them.
Students all across the hall paused mid-conversation, mid-bite, mid-step—staring straight at them. Whispers rippled through the air like a wave. The attention pressed down on the group, heavy and uncomfortable, as if they were prey being sized up.
Every one of them felt it.
A shared unease.
Like they might be swarmed at any second.
They didn't hesitate.
Without exchanging a word, the group moved fast, heading straight toward the ranking-based lunch line. Blend in. Get food. Sit down. Simple.
But as they approached, Riven noticed movement from the corner of his eye.
Harkel had broken away.
The blue-haired boy took a sharp detour, heading in the opposite direction—away from the cafeteria, away from the crowd.
Toward the library.
Riven frowned… then followed.
⸻
"Why are you going to the library?" Riven asked casually, already knowing the answer as the familiar hallway stretched out ahead of them.
Harkel didn't slow down.
"Why are you following me?" he shot back, turning the question around.
Riven shrugged.
"I'm curious."
Harkel exhaled through his nose but didn't argue.
"Well, George," he said dryly, "I'm doing this to get information. Obviously."
He glanced back briefly before continuing.
"You guys are… not exactly normal. Different races, different abilities. We need to understand what you can do—and the limits of those races."
His tone sharpened.
"Especially Luka. We have no idea what he is."
"Fair point," Riven said, letting out a quiet chuckle as they walked. "You know, it's a small universe."
Harkel raised an eyebrow.
"Somehow," Riven continued, "me and Jordan turned out to be a different race, and we ended up in the same dorm room as someone else who's also a different race—and didn't even know it."
He shook his head faintly.
"You can't help but wonder."
"…Is all of this the work of the universe?" Harkel finished.
Riven glanced at him, surprised.
Harkel's voice dropped.
"Honestly, I do think it is."
He slowed slightly.
"Jordan said something similar—that after all this, maybe the universe's influence won't be as strong as it was before. Still… none of this feels real."
His fingers clenched.
"I can talk to a future version of myself. You guys are entirely different races. Me—being pushed into becoming my clan's leader."
He let out a breath.
"It feels like too much has happened in too short a time."
"And something tells me," Riven said quietly, "much more is still coming."
They reached the library.
Unlike the cafeteria, the space was silent—vast shelves stretching endlessly, dimly lit and almost abandoned. There was no librarian in sight. Hardly anyone ever came here.
"So," Riven asked, breaking the silence, "where do we start? How do you even find a book about an entirely separate race?"
Harkel didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward what looked like a circular opening embedded into the wall—similar to the system interface used in the cafeteria. He raised his wrist and pressed his watch into the slot.
A mechanical hum filled the room.
[What kind of book would you like?]
A robotic voice echoed through the library.
"I would like a book about a race that has a negative reaction to sunlight," Harkel said clearly.
[Calculating… Calculating… Three books have been found.]
With a sharp thud, three thick books dropped from the opening.
Harkel caught them instinctively and headed for a nearby table.
Riven stepped up next.
[What kind of book would you like?]
"Give me a book about a race with a deep connection to nature," Riven said slowly, choosing his words carefully, "and one that can absorb abilities from other races."
[Calculating… Calculating… Two books have been found.]
Two volumes dropped into his hands.
Riven walked over and sat across from Harkel, setting the books down. He barely glanced at the full titles—his attention locked onto a single word printed boldly on each cover.
One read: Elf.
He frowned.
"That's not me," he muttered.
The other book—both copies—shared the same name.
Fairy.
Riven's eyes narrowed.
He looked up.
"What books did you get?"
Harkel stared at the three volumes in front of him, his expression unreadable.
"…All of them have the same race name," he said slowly. "None of them are different."
Then realization hit.
Harkel's breath caught.
"Riven," he said quietly, finally looking up, "I think I know what Luka is."
Riven didn't interrupt.
"He's undead," Harkel continued. "Or—more accurately…"
His voice hardened.
"Our friend is a vampire."