Elder Jack didn't blink.
"Excuse you? No, Augustus. Respect Aura. You don't command it—you wrestle with it until it decides you're interesting enough to follow."
I frowned. "That sounds like taming."
He ignored me (as usual) and raised his staff again. A ring of mist flared around him—soft at first, then dense enough to bend light. The air itself shivered like it was nervous.
"This," he said, "is controlled Aura. Notice the color?"
The haze was faintly silver, vibrating at the edge of vision. Even standing meters away, my heartbeat matched its rhythm.
"It carries my will. My emotion. My memory. Every aura user leaves the essence of who they are in their energy. To face an enemy's aura is to face them. Their anger, their pride, their fear. That's why strong warriors can break weaker ones just by existing near them."
He let it fade, then tapped his staff to the ground.
"When Aura condenses beyond a threshold," he said quietly, "it starts to mimic Soulforce again. That's how Saints, Archknights, and the truly mad can kill with presence alone—they've turned emotion back into matter. A power that's completely theirs, and theirs alone, to command."
He turned toward me. "But currently, your level is too low, which means your energy reserves are too low to practice it properly. I'd recommend reaching level twenty before you even think about deep energy control. Skills are fine; the System manages them for you. So, for now, focus on survival. Understand, Augustus?"
"Wait—'understand Augustus'? Shouldn't that include Lenna too? She's level zero too!"
Elder Jack turned his head toward me so slowly I felt my soul pre-flinch.
"Augustus," he said in that patient, faintly pitying tone teachers use right before they crush your spirit, "if Lady Lenna wishes to do something, who here is qualified to stop her?"
I blinked. "…Common sense?"
"Incorrect."
He smiled thinly. "She doesn't operate on common sense. She's the reason it was invented."
Lenna didn't even look up from adjusting her sword strap. "He's right," she said blandly.
Of course she was.
Jack went on, "For you, Augustus, survival comes first. You have a class that runs on aura—perfect for mastery, if you live long enough to see it. As for Lady Lenna, her mastery came before birth."
"That sounds unfair."
"It is," Jack said cheerfully. "Life rarely hands out fairness. It hands out paperwork."
Just like that, the lesson went on.
...
By the end, my head was a buzzing archive of half-understood cosmic nonsense—intent, manifestation, and that fun little bit where emotions can apparently solidify into murder fuel.
None of which made me feel better about my lack of magic.
Then Lenna dropped the next bomb.
"Tomorrow," she said, "we enter our first dungeon."
Silence.
The kind of silence that could suffocate a god.
Arial blinked. "Tomorrow?"
Alfred nodded once, calm as always. "It makes sense. Elder Jack said our formation is stable. We need to test it under controlled danger."
"Controlled danger?" I threw my hands up. "It's a dungeon! The only thing 'controlled' is maybe who dies first!"
Lenna didn't even flinch. "Preparation begins at dawn. Bring what you intend to survive with."
Then she just walked off, radiating authority and psychological damage.
We, of course, followed. Because disobeying Lenna ranks right under "licking cursed artifacts" on the list of bad life choices.
...
Later that day
The Ironcreed supply wing looked like an armory and an alchemy lab had an expensive baby. Weapons, relics, potion racks, sealed crystals—all glowing faintly like they knew I couldn't afford them.
Alfred moved through it like he'd memorized every shelf.
"Mana restoratives—two. Wound sealant—three. Anti-curse talisman—one."
Arial lingered near the cleric supplies, selecting holy beads and a small vial of sea-salt water. Her movements were delicate, careful… which just made me feel even more unprepared.
I stared at my empty hands.
Victoria, trailing behind us like an amused parole officer, sighed. "Young Master, you might consider armor."
"I have a sword," I said confidently.
"You also have ribs. You may wish to keep them."
Point taken.
We found a breastplate forged from reinforced lightsteel—slightly heavy, but it hummed faintly with good aura conductivity. When I lifted it, faint blue veins lit up across the surface.
Victoria nodded approvingly. "Acceptable. Try not to die in it."
"I'll do my best."
"Your best has historically been terrible."
"Optimism, Victoria."
"Realism, Young Master."
Somewhere deep down, I think she enjoyed this.
...
Arial approached, holding a small glass pendant shaped like a droplet. "Master Augustus," she said softly, "please wear this."
"What is it?"
"My water-essence charm. It resonates with my healing magic. If you're injured beyond my range, it will pull my attention toward you."
"That sounds… slightly horrifying."
"It is," she admitted. "But safer than losing you."
The sincerity in her voice hit harder than any training blow. I took it and tucked the charm under my collar.
"Thanks," I said quietly. "Just don't drown yourself trying to save me."
She smiled faintly. "That's the purpose of my existence, as a slave."
Well. That got dark fast.
...
When we returned to the training field, Lenna was already there, inspecting a crystal sphere floating above her palm. Its light pulsed like a heartbeat.
"That's our team key," Alfred explained, catching my curious look. "Every group needs one to enter a dungeon together. Without it, the dungeon scatters you in random locations."
"Which sounds like a great way to die horribly," I said.
"It is," he agreed politely.
Lenna's gaze didn't move from the orb. "Our target is the Hound's Playground. F-rank anomaly. Western border."
I frowned. "Why is something called The Hound's Playground our beginner dungeon?"
"Because," Lenna said, slipping the orb into her storage ring, "it's the only one nearby that hasn't devoured an entire scouting team this year."
"Oh, great. Safety through technicality."
She met my gaze. "Rest tonight. We leave at first light. No delays."
I wanted to protest. Really. But Alfred was already checking his sword seals, and Arial was quietly praying to whatever water god tolerated her life choices.
I sighed. "Fine. Dawn."
Lenna nodded once. "Good. Don't run before then. It would be inconvenient."
...
That night, lying on my bed staring at the ceiling, the weight of it all sank in.
Tomorrow wasn't another sparring match, or a simulation.
Tomorrow, the training wheels came off.
Soulforce. Mana. Aura.
Three fancy ways to say "don't die."
I glanced at the faint blue charm glimmering on my chest and muttered to the empty room, "Alright, Hound's Playground… try not to bite too hard."
Because come dawn, this new dungeon team—one overpowered noble lady, one golden knight, one traumatized mermaid, and one perpetually doomed heir—was officially open for business.