The duel had barely ended when an instructor appeared at the edge of the training yard. He was a lean man, tall, with a face that looked as though it had been carved from weathered wood. His hair was grey at the temples, and his eyes were a pale, washed-out blue that seemed to see everything and nothing at once. A cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth, the smoke curling lazily past his sharp features.
He didn't introduce himself. He just stood there, hands buried in the pockets of a worn jacket, watching the students file past. When the last of them had cleared the yard, he finally spoke.
"What are you lot doing huddled up over there?
Don't you have Constellation Prep? My classroom. Now."
His voice was quiet, almost lazy, but it carried the weight of a slap. It was the kind of voice that said, *I don't care—just do as I say.* Students who had been lingering near the gate hurried inside. Cale moved with the crowd, Val and Ethan flanking him.
The classroom was on the second floor of the main building, a wide space with high windows that swallowed the afternoon light. The seats were arranged in a semicircle facing a central platform. The instructor stood at the front, leaning against the lectern, the cigarette still burning between his fingers.
He waited until the last student had found a seat. Then he smiled. It wasn't a friendly expression.
"My name is Rourke. I teach you how to stay alive when something bigger than you decides you look like a snack." He took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of grey smoke. "In case you're wondering, I'm Void-Touched. S-rank. And retired, obviously, or I wouldn't be stuck with you lot."
A murmur rippled through the room. Void-Touched. Even the elite Emperor's guards barely reached that tier. S-rank was legendary—there were only a handful of people at that level in the entire realm. Cale's gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto the man.
Rourke's pale eyes swept the room, lingering on a few faces. "I'm here because the Academy wants you to understand what you're up against. Fallen Constellations. Not the low-tier trash they throw at you in the woods for practice. The real threats." He tapped ash onto the floor, ignoring the 'no smoking' signs. "And because I like watching children realize they're not as tough as they think."
He pushed off from the lectern and walked to the center of the platform. "We'll start with theory. Signs, strengths, weaknesses—all that boring garbage. But theory only gets you so far." He looked directly at Cale, a glint in his eye. "You'll get your chance to prove yourselves soon enough. The fun part."
Cale didn't blink. Rourke's smile widened, and then he turned away.
"Today, we're talking about creatures that hunt in numbers. The ones that don't need to be big to kill you." He activated a holographic display. An image appeared: a creature no larger than a cat, with too many legs, an oily shimmering carapace, and a mouth full of needle-thin teeth.
"Glimmerwings. They're fast, vicious, and perpetually hungry. They hunt in swarms. A single one is a nuisance. A swarm can strip a Stargazer to bone in under a minute."
He let the image rotate slowly. "Your next practical exercise will be against a controlled swarm. You'll work in your existing teams. The goal is to survive long enough to eliminate the majority. A small tip: coordination will keep you alive. Panic will probably get you killed."
He dimmed the lights and began the lecture. His voice was low, alternating between mocking and sharp. He called out students by name, forcing them to explain how they'd handle a swarm, then tore their answers apart with a casual cruelty that made most of them shrink. When he got to Cale, he didn't ask a question. He just looked at him for a long, silent moment, then moved on.
Cale was confused he wasn't sure if that silence was a sign of respect or a warning.
The exercise was set for the following day. Cale spent the evening in his room, reviewing Rourke's lecture. Glimmerwings were attracted to light and sound. Their carapace could deflect weak physical strikes. Their only true vulnerable point was the joint between the head and the thorax. Area-of-effect attacks were the priority.
He thought about Rourke. A man of that caliber shouldn't be teaching. He was in his late thirties—prime fighting age for an S-rank—yet he was "retired." It felt odd.
But Cale had his own problems. And soon he fell asleep with the chittering sound of needle teeth echoing in his mind.
The training ground was different this time. Instead of an open field, they were led to a massive walled enclosure. At the far end, a heavy metal door sealed the entrance to a dark tunnel.
Rourke stood at the edge, a freshly lit cigarette in hand. "Simple rules," he said. "We open the door. The swarm rushes out. You fight until the swarm is neutralized, you're pulled out, or they retreat. Your team's score will reflect time, kill count, and cooperation." He looked at the teenagers. "Try not to embarrass yourselves. This is the fun part."
The first teams went in. Cale watched, studying their failures. Some fire-users panicked and burned through their Mauri too fast. Earth-users failed to cover their flanks. Very few lasted more than three minutes.
When their names were called, Cale's stomach tightened.
"We're going with the same plan as the woods. Right?" Val asked, her hands already sparking with wildfire.
Cale shook his head. "No. Glimmerwings are a lot faster than mites. And If we just stand in a circle, they'll get inside our guard." He looked at Ethan. "Ethan, don't just build walls. I want you to build a corridor. Try and force them into a funnel. Val, hit the center of the pack when they bunch up. And I'll pick off the ones that try to climb the walls."
Ethan nodded, his expression grim. "I think I can do that."
They stepped into the enclosure.
The door slid open. For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then, a wave of hundreds of skittering shapes rushed out, their carapaces glinting like oil. The sound was a high, thin chittering that set Cale's teeth on edge.
Ethan slammed his hands into the dirt. Walls of jagged earth erupted on either side of the swarm, narrowing their path into a five-foot-wide channel. The Glimmerwings funneled forward, their numbers working against them as they crammed together.
Val's fire answered. She sent a roaring wave of flame down the corridor. The creatures shrieked as their carapaces cracked under the heat, but more surged over the charred remains of their kin.
Cale saw a group of them trying to scale the earth walls. He moved, his sword cutting one out of the air. Another leaped at him, and he pivoted, slashing it in two.
"Ethan, shore up the left! It's crumbling!" Cale shouted.
Ethan grunted, veins popping on his forehead. New pillars of earth rose, sealing the gap. Val poured more wildfire into the funnel, her arms trembling with the strain.
Then, the "Elites" emerged. Red-eyed Glimmerwings, larger and more muscular, their carapaces thicker than the rest. They slammed into Ethan's walls with enough force to make the ground shake.
Cale's Mauri was draining fast. A red-eyed Glimmerwing slipped past a crack in the wall, leaping toward Val's exposed back. Cale lunged, but he knew he was too far.
His hand shot out instinctively. Ice.
A blast of freezing energy exploded from his palm, catching the creature mid-air. It froze solid instantly and shattered into a thousand jagged pieces upon hitting the floor.
Val glanced back, eyes wide. "Thanks."
"Don't stop! Focus." Cale yelled.
The minutes stretched into an eternity. The air grew thick with the smell of ozone, burnt chitin, and sweat. Finally, the last of the swarm fell silent.
They thought it was over, but a final, massive wave began to pour from the tunnel. Before it could reach them, a shimmering blue forcefield slammed down, pushing the swarm back as the metal door hissed shut.
Cale stood in the center of the enclosure, breathing hard. His sword was slick with ichor, and his arms felt like lead.
The gauntlet chimed.
```
Team Anómalos – 387 kills
Time: 7 minutes, 42 seconds
Rank: 3rd out of 45 teams
Points: 214
```
Third, Out of the entire grade, only two teams—likely the Vorian and one other high-noble teams—had done better.
Rourke walked to the edge, exhaling smoke. He looked at the scorched earth, then at Cale. "Not bad," he said, his voice as lazy as ever. "For a Rank E."
Cale met his eyes. "Thanks."
Rourke's mouth twitched—the closest thing to a smile Cale had seen from him. "Don't let it go to your head. Next group! Move!"
As they walked out, Val let out a breathless laugh.
"Third. We were actually third."
Ethan wiped the grime from his face. "Better than twelfth. Like the last time."
Cale didn't answer. He was staring at the flickering text on his gauntlet.
```
Experience: 198/200
```
Two points. He was just two points away from the next threshold.
"Almost there," Iris whispered in his mind.
He dismissed the screen and followed his team back toward the dorms, the weight of the coming evolution hanging over him like a storm cloud.