The midday sun hung high above the academy when the wagons finally rolled back through the outer gates. The patrol had ended without serious casualties, but every student carried a new heaviness in their steps—some from fear, some from pride, and some, like Zayle, from a quiet awareness that the world was deeper, darker, and far more dangerous than their textbooks suggested.
The moment they stepped off the wagons, Instructor Lyselle dismissed the class with a curt gesture."Rest. Review your mistakes. You are responsible for your own survival."
Students scattered in every direction as if escaping a cage.
Kellan stretched like a lazy cat. "Finally done. I'm starving."
Lyra brushed leaves off her sleeves. "We should write our reports before dinner."
Lin Fei nodded vigorously. "Yes, we should. Reflection is vital for growth."
Zayle listened, but his attention drifted toward the academy gates.
Inside the courtyard was safety, routines, structure.
Outside the walls was opportunity.
Monsters. Materials. Side missions. Trouble.
He felt the pull almost immediately.A whisper in his head followed right behind it.
[System Alert. User's combat experience insufficient. Recommended: field practice.]
Zayle sighed quietly. "You really have perfect timing."
Lin Fei blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," Zayle said. "Just talking to myself. Or my imaginary therapist."
Kellan clapped his shoulder. "Where are you going after this? Cafeteria?"
Zayle shook his head casually. "I've got something to check outside."
Lyra looked at him, sensing something. "Should you really wander after a patrol?"
"It's just the outer market. I'll be fine."
"Define 'fine,'" Kellan said.
"I won't die," Zayle replied.
"Not the confidence I wanted to hear," Lin Fei murmured.
But Zayle was already walking toward the gates.
He didn't look back.
The outer marketplace buzzed with noise the moment he stepped through. Stalls stretched along the stone road, selling herbs, monster claws, cracked magic cores, questionable potions, and suspiciously cheap weapons.
It smelled like smoke, spices, sweat, and faint danger.
Perfect.
Zayle walked deeper into the market until he reached the alley known among students as a small informal hub for cheap materials—or as the instructors called it, the "place where idiots lose their money and possibly their limbs."
[System Notice. Area contains three potential threats. Caution advised.]
"Three? Already?" Zayle muttered. "Do they not take holidays?"
He barely finished speaking when someone shoulder-checked him hard.
He staggered one step but caught himself.
A young man with jagged blond hair turned around with a smirk. He wore mismatched armor pieces and a guild badge showing he was an independent adventurer—probably low rank, judging from the dents on his gear.
"Oh look. Academy kid," the man sneered. "Didn't see you there. Maybe because you're so tiny."
Zayle raised a brow. "You're twice my size. If you couldn't see me, that sounds like a personal problem."
A few adventurers nearby snickered.
The blond man's face darkened.
"You've got a sharp mouth."
"I've been told that," Zayle said. "Usually by people who regret starting the conversation."
The man grabbed Zayle's collar.
Zayle didn't flinch.
He was annoyed, not afraid.
[Warning. Enemy hostility confirmed. Strength level: moderate. Estimated victory chance: 61 percent.]
"Sixty-one? That's oddly specific," Zayle whispered.
The man frowned. "What did you say?"
"Not talking to you," Zayle said.
Then he moved.
A quick step back. A short breath. A twist of his wrist.
His elbow slammed into the man's arm, breaking the grip. Zayle followed with a sharp strike to the ribs, using the technique they had learned in combat basics—except he added his own twist, dropping his weight to amplify the impact.
The man grunted in pain.
Zayle smirked. "Can you see me now?"
The adventurer roared and swung wildly.
Zayle ducked under the punch, pivoted, and swept the man's legs. The blond hit the ground with a thud, dust flying.
[Weak point detected. Right knee joint exposed.]
Zayle didn't hesitate. He planted his foot firmly on the exposed spot, not enough to cripple, just enough to end the fight.
The man froze, face pale.
"You… little brat…"
Zayle leaned down slightly. "If you're going to pick a fight, at least pick someone your own intelligence level. It'll be safer."
Laughter echoed from nearby stalls.
Humiliated, the blond man pushed himself up, growled, and staggered away.
Zayle dusted off his hands as the system chimed softly.
[Task Completed: First Real Combat Victory Against Non-Student Opponent.][Reward: Minor Agility Increase.]
"Nice," Zayle muttered. "Keep rewards like that coming."
He walked deeper into the market, now in a distinctly better mood.
About half an hour later, Zayle stepped out of the materials shop with a small pouch of low-grade monster parts. Perfect for training, terrible for the wallet. His coin pouch felt lighter already.
He began heading back to the academy, humming slightly—until a shadow moved in the alley behind him.
A quiet whisper followed.
"Stop following me," Zayle said without turning.
Silence.
Then a voice.Cold. Sharp. Young.
"You're sharper than you look."
Zayle finally turned.
A girl stood at the end of the alley. She wore dark travel attire, a hood partially covering her face. Her eyes were sharp, slanted slightly upward, giving a foxlike impression. A faint dagger glimmered at her waist.
She looked around Zayle's age—maybe 15 or 16.
"Who are you?" Zayle asked.
"Someone curious," the girl said calmly. "You fought that blond idiot well. Too well for a new academy student."
"Thanks," Zayle said. "Now stop following me."
"I'm not following you," she said, tilting her head. "I'm scouting."
"For what?"
She smiled.
"For someone interesting."
Zayle blinked. "That sounds like something a kidnapper says."
"Maybe," she said. "But if I wanted to kidnap you, you'd already be unconscious."
"Comforting," Zayle muttered.
The girl studied him quietly.
"You're different from the other students. I'll be watching you."
"Please don't."
"Too late."
She stepped back into the shadows and vanished with catlike grace.
Zayle let out a long breath.
[New Tag Acquired: Unknown Observer.]
"Great," he said. "Another person added to the list of people who may or may not try to kill me someday."
He rubbed his temples.
"Perfectly normal day."
By the time he reached the academy, the sun had dipped into orange. Students walked in small groups across the courtyard, some chatting, some exhausted, some bragging loudly.
Zayle slipped past them and headed straight toward the training platforms behind the dorms. They were empty at this hour.
He placed his materials down, drew his practice sword, and began drilling his movements.
Step. Breathe. Swing. Parry. Step. Strike.
Over and over.
Sweat dripped down his chin.
His arms burned.
His legs trembled.
But he didn't stop.
The fight in the forest today and the skirmish in the market both replayed again and again in his mind. The gap was still huge. The danger too real.
He needed to grow.
Not someday.
Now.
While he trained, the system chimed again.
[New Optional Quest: Night Trial.][Location: Abandoned Watchtower outside the academy.][Difficulty: Unknown.][Recommended: Proceed only if confident.]
Zayle smirked.
"Confident? No. Interested? Absolutely."
He sheathed his sword and picked up his bag.
"Let's go see what trouble tonight has for me."
And with that, he walked toward the academy gates again, ready for whatever waited in the darkness.