The sun hadn't risen yet, but Leon was already awake.
The academy dormitory was silent. No footsteps. No voices. Just the distant sound of trees swaying outside the windows and the cold morning air seeping through the cracks.
Leon sat on the edge of his bed, checking his gear calmly.
Leather bracers
Training daggers
Basic healing salve
Mana recovery pills
Small rope coil
Flint stone
And two empty pouches for dungeon drops
Nothing special. Nothing rare. Just the standard kit given to first-year awakeners.
He strapped on his bracers without hesitation. His expression didn't change, but his pulse beat steadily with purpose. Today wasn't a lesson. It wasn't a drill.
It was his first solo mission.
A knock came.
More like a frantic pounding than a knock.
"Leon! Open up! I know you're awake! You're a freak of discipline!"
Leon opened the door.
Damian stood outside, hair messy, cloak crooked, eyes wide like a worried grandmother.
"You were going to leave without telling me," Damian accused.
"Yes."
Damian clutched his chest dramatically. "I KNEW IT! My betrayal senses were tingling!"
Leon walked past him.
Damian followed instantly. "Okay, listen. I know you're confident. And calm. And terrifyingly emotionless. BUT—this is an unstable Wild Rift. Alone. Level 1. No backup. If something goes wrong, you can't rely on your team. You can't rely on instructors. You can't rely on ME—though you should always rely on me emotionally."
Leon walked faster.
Damian grabbed his sleeve. "At least say something!"
"I'll return."
"That is NOT reassuring!"
Leon stopped once they reached the academy gate.
Even the guards were awake—standing stiffly as if ordered to alert the moment Leon stepped out. Varron's influence was everywhere now. More instructors watched from the walls. Students peeked from windows above, whispering as Leon passed.
"Is he really doing this?"
"Alone?"
"He might die…"
"He won't. He's EX rank."
"That doesn't mean anything without levels!"
Leon ignored all of it.
Instructor Hale approached with a stern expression.
"You're early."
Leon nodded. "Ready."
Hale sighed. "I don't agree with the academy's decision to send you alone. But Varron is right about one thing: you need to prove stability."
Damian jumped in. "HE'S STABLE! I PROMISE! He just… doesn't talk much. Or show emotion. Or laugh. Or—"
Leon interrupted, "Enough."
Hale gave a small smile. "Leon, just remember: Rank-F monsters are weak, but Wild Rifts are unpredictable. If you sense anything unusual, retreat."
Leon didn't respond.
Hale placed a hand on his shoulder. "I lost a student years ago because he thought he could handle everything alone. Promise me you won't be reckless."
Leon looked at him.
"I will survive."
Hale exhaled heavily. "Good."
Damian tugged Leon's sleeve. "Be careful. If you die, I'm haunting you in the afterlife."
Leon stepped past the gate.
The world fell quieter behind him.
He followed a faint path through the forest—old stone markers guiding him. Mana thickened with each step, the air growing heavier, colder. Birds stopped chirping. The forest held its breath.
He stopped when the trees opened into a clearing.
There it was.
The Wild Rift.
A swirling tear in reality—green and black mana twisting like smoke, rotating around a jagged crack in the world. The air around it flickered unnaturally.
Leon felt pressure against his skin, like the Rift was observing him.
Weaklings would be afraid.
He simply stepped forward.
The Rift pulsed, sensing a new challenger.
He grabbed his daggers.
He exhaled.
And stepped inside.
The sensation was immediate—like falling and standing at the same time. The world around him warped into a dim, fog-covered forest. Trees twisted into unnatural shapes. The ground pulsed faintly with mana veins. A cold mist curled around his ankles.
A notification flickered before his eyes.
You have entered: Wild Rift — Mosswood Variant
Recommended Level: 3–5
Current Level: 1
Proceed with caution.
Leon ignored the warning and adjusted his stance.
He heard it before he saw it—a faint slither, wet and dragging, scraping against the earth.
A Moss Creeper lunged out from the fog.
Leon stepped aside.
Not fast. Not dramatically. Just correctly.
The monster missed him by inches.
Leon slashed once—clean, efficient.
The creature dissolved into green mist.
Another approached from his blind side.
He didn't see it.
He just felt the pressure shift on the ground—Luck nudging his awareness. Leon ducked. The creeper flew overhead, crashing into a tree. Before it recovered, Leon's dagger pierced its core.
A third dropped from above.
Leon called:
Mana Blade.
A crescent of blue energy erupted from his dagger, slicing the monster in half before it touched the ground.
Three creepers.
All dead.
In less than ten seconds.
Leon exhaled softly.
His breathing stayed steady.
The Rift pulsed again—unsettled, recognizing a threat far greater than its level range.
He walked deeper.
The fog thickened.
The trees bent unnaturally.
More Moss Creepers emerged—five, six, eight at once.
Leon moved fluidly.
Step left.
Slash low.
Block.
Spin.
Mana Blade.
Dodge.
Strike.
Retreat half-step.
Finish.
His movements weren't perfect—
but they were efficient.
Luck sharpened every instinct.
Smoothed every motion.
Converted uncertainty into precision.
Even mistakes bent slightly toward safety.
After twenty minutes of relentless movement, the ground was littered with fading mist from defeated monsters.
Leon didn't count them.
He didn't need to.
A notification flashed:
Minor Achievement: First Solo Combat Run Completed
Rewards Adjusted
EXP Increased
Growth Rate Slightly Boosted for 24 hours
Leon blinked.
Another notification:
Level Up!
Lv 1 → Lv 2
A faint warmth spread through him—mana strengthening slightly, reflexes tightening.
More notifications followed:
+1 Strength
+1 Agility
+1 Mana
+1 Spirit
Luck pulsed quietly—satisfied.
Leon rotated his shoulders.
The Rift wasn't done.
He sensed a stronger presence deeper inside.
Not Rank-F.
Rank-E.
He decided to go forward.
He needed growth.
He needed power.
He needed experience.
He stepped deeper—
fog swirling at his ankles—
daggers ready—
breathing calm—
And the Rank-E creature emerged.
Tall.
Thorned.
Vine-covered.
Three glowing eyes.
A Mosswood Guardian.
Leon had no fear.
He stepped toward it.
The fight began.
By the time he returned through the Rift's tear, the air around the academy gate trembled from tension.
Hale was there.
Varron was there.
Dozens of students were waiting.
Damian paced like a trapped bird.
When the Rift rippled, Damian screamed, "LEON?! LEON!"
Leon stepped out calmly.
Clothes torn.
Dirt-covered.
Daggers stained green.
Expression unchanged.
Damian fainted instantly.
Hale rushed forward. "Are you hurt?!"
"No."
Varron crossed his arms. "Report."
Leon answered simply—
"Cleared the Rift. Killed all Rank-F monsters. Eliminated a Rank-E Mosswood Guardian."
Varron's eyebrow twitched.
"You… killed a Rank-E at Level 2?"
"Yes."
Damian screamed from the ground. "HE'S A DEMON!"
Leon ignored him.
Varron stared, then smiled for the first time.
"Good. Very good."
Leon sheathed his daggers.
He was just getting started.