"I take it everyone's here," the instructor said.
The words were level, yet the darkness beneath the clown mask made it impossible to read his true intent. The porcelain smile carved across his face did not move, but it felt as though it was staring directly into our thoughts, dissecting our worth.
Around me, students adjusted their gear—buckles tightening, blades sheathed, magical relics humming faintly. Some wore grim expressions. Others tried to hide their unease beneath forced confidence. But no one was relaxed.
"Where were you?" Eugene asked, approaching with quiet concern.
"I've been here since we've gathered," I replied. "Why?"
"I thought you didn't show up," he admitted. "I'm… glad you did."
He swallowed back what he wanted to tell me for some reason.
His words were genuine, but I could barely register them. My mind was dull, my body heavy. The lack of sleep clung to me like lead. I hadn't even entered the dungeon yet, and I already felt as though I was sinking.
The instructor clapped his hands once.
"Excellent. Then let us begin."
There was no warning.
A pulse of force struck the ground twice—tap, tap—and the world folded in on itself. Vision blurred, sound collapsed, and a moment later, the cold wind of the dungeon greeted us.
"Welcome, students."
Three masked instructors awaited us at the foot of a colossal stone gate. Ancient sigils glowed beneath their feet, threads of mana pulsing through the ground like veins. This was not an illusion. This was the threshold to something real—something unforgiving.
"I trust all of you came prepared," one instructor spoke, hands clasped behind his back.
"Yes, sir!" Huston answered.
"Good," the instructor continued. "Then surely you have all memorized yesterday's manuscript."
Murmurs broke out instantly.
"What? Memorize all of that in one night!?" "That's impossible!" "There's no way—"
"Silence."
The command did not come as a shout—it didn't need to. His tone was controlled. Measured. Absolute. The kind of voice that belonged to someone who had seen many die for lesser reasons.
"Those documents were not for academic exercise," he said. "They were a warning. A lifeline. If you cannot process that much information in one night, then you are not qualified to stand here. This trial may cost you your life."
A suffocating silence drowned the crowd.
Then, after a moment, the instructor exhaled in disappointment.
It's to be expected, a total of 40 pages to be memorized in a single night is just not possible for most humans and hybrid.
"Very well. Let us confirm." He raised a hand slowly. "Those who memorized the manuscript in its entirety—raise your hand."
Nobody moved.
Except one.
Livia Isis.
She lifted her hand with quiet certainty. No hesitation. No pride. Just fact.
A ripple went through the group. The masked instructor's gaze lingered on her for a brief moment.
"…Only one," he murmured. There was no admiration in his tone. Only concern.
He turned away slightly. "To think even this generation would be so complacent."
That's a bit rude. It's not something one can memorize even in a week.
Then he faced us again. "You all managed to learn something, I trust?"
A wave of desperate nods followed.
"Good," he said. "Then form a group of your own. You have twenty minutes. Choose wisely."
He stepped back toward the other instructors and sat in silence, the three masks watching us like executioners observing prisoners pick their own gallows.
Instantly, chaos erupted.
The situation is totally going to...
"Livia! Join our team!" "No—come with us!" "Wait, Livia, we need you most!"
Just as expected. People didn't search for allies. They searched for tools. And right now, the most valuable tool was the girl with the perfect memory.
Livia stepped back slightly, overwhelmed. Her fingers trembled against her sleeve.
Before anyone could force their way to her—
"Ladies and gentlemen." Eugene strode forward, his usual levity gone, replaced by a composed authority. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but Livia is already part of our team."
A student with purple spiked hair scoffed. "You? Stop spouting trash. Someone like you thinks they can claim her?"
His presence was oppressive. The kind of student who relied on intimidation over reason.
"Is that how you speak to the person you're desperate to recruit?" Eugene replied calmly. "You're frightening her."
The purple-haired student clicked his tongue and turned away, suddenly aware of the eyes on him. The atmosphere shifted.
"You can't just say that and expect us to believe she's chosen you," another student protested.
"That's a fair point," Eugene nodded. "but you can ask her."
Dozens of eyes turned to Livia.
A moment passed. Then she nodded.
"Well, it's a shame. I thought we had a chance." The students scattered.
Relief washed over Eugene's expression—but he said nothing. He didn't need to.
He simply gestured for us to gather.
The storm was coming. And we had twenty minutes to prepare against it.