The door swung open, and every head turned to see who it was. A tall, strikingly handsome boy stepped in, his thick blond hair tied back in ponytail with some ribbons and full, striking eyebrows. He wore the same military-style academy uniform as the rest of the students, but somehow, it seemed to fit him better, as though tailored to perfection.

But he wasn't alone.

Behind him walked a man dressed in a pristine navy-blue suit adorned with the academy's crest. His presence was commanding, his steps purposeful, and it didn't take long for murmurs to ripple through the class.

Everyone knew who he was.

Miss Brooks straightened up the moment she saw him, her expression shifting to one of respect. She stomped her foot on the ground in a sharp salute, sending a subtle tremor through her cleavage that did not go unnoticed by the room.

A few of the boys coughed awkwardly, while others stole glances, trying to mask their amusement.

The man in the suit stepped further into the room, his polished shoes clicking against the tiled floor, the sound echoing in the stunned silence.

This was Commander Darius Albright, Deputy Head master of the Academy and one of the most decorated officers in the military base history.

He was known for leading the decisive battle against a horde of Tier-4 beasts five years ago, his mere presence demanded respect.

Miss Brooks straightened even further, her stance rigid. "Commander Albright," she said crisply, saluting him once more.

Darius acknowledged her with a nod. "At ease, Brooks." He glanced around the room, his sharp blue eyes scanning the recruits before settling on his son. "This is my son, Adrian Albright," he announced, his voice even but firm. "He'll be joining your class. I trust he'll be in good hands."

"Of course, sir," Miss Brooks replied, keeping her tone professional, though her posture softened slightly.

Darius turned back to Adrian. "Behave yourself," he said simply before giving a small nod to Miss Brooks and walking out. His authoritative presence left an almost tangible weight in the air as the door closed behind him.

Miss Brooks exhaled softly, regaining her composure. "Adrian, there's a seat in the middle row. Take it and get settled." She gestured towards the empty desk. Adrian walked down the aisle, his strides confident but unhurried, as if he was already used to being the center of attention.

The murmurs among the girls began almost immediately.

"He's so handsome!"

"I can't believe he's Commander Albright's son!"

"I heard Commander Albright took down an entire beast wave single-handedly. Do you think Adrian's ability is just as strong?"

Noah, however, was seething. He didn't like the way Adrian's very presence seemed to command admiration. Sure, he was good-looking and had the right connections, but that didn't mean he could just walk in and hug all the spotlight.

Kelvin, noticing Noah's clenched jaw, smirked. "Looks like you've got some serious competition now, huh?"

"Shut up," Noah snapped.

Deep down, though, the words stung. He glanced down at his own hands, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Sure, he wasn't bad-looking—he took pride in his appearance. His hair was always perfectly styled, his uniform meticulously ironed, and he'd spent a fortune (the little credits he'd saved up for months) on cologne just to get the girls' attention. But none of that mattered when his ability was... what it was.

His mind wandered back to the aptitude test phase, a monumental event that determined the trajectory of every candidate's future.

It was during this test that abilities awakened, were ranked, and categorized into three generations, each a measure of complexity and evolution.

The First Generation, the most common and basic tier, was limited to single, straightforward abilities. These powers—like controlling fire, moving objects with telekinesis, or minor healing—were useful but rigid.

There was no room for expansion or creative adaptation. A First Generation user mastered one skill and stuck with it.

The Second Generation, however, was a step above, unlocking a secondary affinity tied to the primary power. A Second Generation water user, for instance, could control ice or vapor as well, wielding two interconnected abilities instead of one. These users weren't just stronger; they were also more versatile, making them far more valuable.

Near the pinnacle stood the Third Generation, a rarity seen in only a few. These abilities defied convention, blending disparate powers into unique combinations. A single user might manipulate gravity while distorting time, or combine shadow manipulation with energy constructs. These powers weren't just potent—they were transformative, reshaping entire battlefields and strategies.

Then there were those uncommon ones. The outliers, tagged as alpha class. The S ranked ability users that couldn't be truly measured in terms of raw potential and sheer power.

Each ability, regardless of its generation, was further ranked by strength on a scale of Level 1 to Level 10, determining its raw power and practical utility. A Level 1 power could barely move a pebble, while a Level 10 ability could decimate cities. Strength and generation combined to establish a user's standing, with even the strongest First Generation power often falling short against the versatility of a Second Generation one, let alone a Third.

And Noah?

He was a First Generation. His ability? "Perfect Echo."

It allowed him to replicate any sound he heard with flawless accuracy, whether it was a whisper, a symphony, or the roar of a beast.

Ranked at Level 5, it was a "strong" ability by all accounts, but what good was it?

Summoning perfect imitations of enemy war cries or bird calls wasn't going to stop a Tier-3 beast from ripping him apart.

'Maybe I could annoy someone to death with my perfect impressions,' he thought bitterly. The examiners had tried to frame it as "strategic," but no amount of sugarcoating could hide how useless it was for combat. Especially when he had dreamt all his life to be at the front line of combat against the Harbingers!!

As Noah spiraled deeper into his self-loathing, Miss Brooks reentered the room, her usual confidence slightly shaken. She cleared her throat, snapping everyone's attention back to her. "Now, where were we?"

A student reminded her about the beast hierarchy, but she waved it off. "Enough theory for today," she declared, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "It's time for some field training."

Noah and Kelvin immediately exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"Outside the base?" Kelvin whispered, his voice tinged with excitement.

"Are you kidding me?" Noah hissed back. His stomach churned at the thought.

Miss Brooks's sharp voice broke the murmuring students' spell. "Alright, proceed to the student Armory to gear up for field training. You have ten minutes to get suited up and ready at the south gate!"

Adrian had barely moved before several students approached him with wide smiles, trying to strike up conversation. It wasn't every day you could befriend the Deputy Headmaster's son, after all.

"You're so lucky to have Commander Albright as your father."

"What's it like being part of military royalty?"

"Do you already have a high-ranking ability?"

Adrian smiled politely but gave little more than curt replies. He clearly wasn't interested in making friends.

As the class exited the room, Kelvin leaned close to Noah and muttered, "Don't you think it's a little weird? The Deputy Headmaster's kid, someone with that kind of status, in our class? Shouldn't he be in 1A or something?"

Noah shrugged, though he'd been thinking the same thing. "Maybe his scores weren't as great as they thought," he said flatly, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice.

As they walked down the bustling corridor, Kelvin suddenly tensed. "Oh, no," he hissed under his breath, his voice dripping with dread.

"What is it now?" Noah asked, already bracing himself.

Kelvin nodded toward the corner ahead, where an older woman in an apron stood wielding a mop. Her gray hair was tied back neatly, and her sharp eyes immediately caught sight of Noah. She waved him over with an expectant gesture.

Noah sighed but obeyed. "Good morning, Mrs. Harper," he greeted her with respect.

Mrs. Harper narrowed her eyes. "Good morning? You mean you skipped breakfast this morning, don't you?"

Noah scratched the back of his head. "I was running late. I'll eat something after class, I promise."

Mrs. Harper frowned, tapping her mop on the ground in disapproval. "That's not good enough, young man. You need your strength! I've packed something for you. Come find me at lunch if you're hungry." She patted him firmly on the shoulder, then did the same to Kelvin, who awkwardly grinned.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harper," Noah replied softly.

As Mrs. Harper walked away, a few passing students snickered.

"Did she pack you snacks, cleaner boy?" one of them whispered mockingly.

Another added, "What's next, are you going to mop the armory?"

Kelvin bristled, ready to snap back, but Noah raised a hand, stopping him.

"It's not worth it," Noah said quietly, though his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Kelvin glanced at his friend, worried. "You know they're just idiots, right? Mrs. Harper's basically family to you. That's something to be proud of."

Noah didn't respond immediately to Kelvin's attempt at consolation. His mind drifted back to thoughts of his parents.

Both were once esteemed technicians and engineers, among the best in their field. The top dogs aboard the ark had offered his parents high-ranking positions as part of the development and maintenance teams aboard the floating utopia, the Ark.

He'd been just eight years old when they left, promising to send for him once they were settled. For six months, they'd sent letters and funds for his care, but then, just like that, the support stopped. No messages, no money—nothing.

Mrs. Harper, his childhood nanny, had stepped in to raise him, working tirelessly as a cleaner in the barracks to ensure he had food to eat and a roof over his head.

She'd filled the void his parents had left behind, not that it stopped other students from mocking him about her.

'It's easy to laugh when you've never had to struggle,' Noah thought bitterly, but he quickly pushed the anger aside. If his parents wanted to abandon him for a cushy life on the Ark, that was their choice. He wouldn't waste time mourning people who'd forgotten him.

He'd heard stories and even rumours circulating amongst his parents colleagues that never got the call up about how life on the ark was literally out of this world.

It was had to believe at first but as the years went by with no word from either of them, it became painfully difficult to push aside the thought that just maybe, maybe his parents loved it up there so much on the ark that they forgot they made a whole other human down on earth.

Kelvin gave him a sidelong glance, clearly picking up on his friend's tense expression. "Come on, man, don't let those idiots get to you. Mrs. Harper's a saint for sticking by you. You're better off with her than with parents like—"

"Drop it," Noah said flatly, cutting Kelvin off. He didn't want to dwell on it any longer.

'I'd be damned if some spoiled brats think they can mock me for that?' Noah thought, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He wouldn't let them tarnish the one person who had stayed by his side.

'But not to worry, when I get a rank and join a squadron in the next three years, I'll find my way and make it up to the ark. And God so help me, when I find those bastards that ditched me, there will be hell to pay!!' Noah thought bitterly.

Kelvin opened his mouth to say something else, but Noah cut him off. "Let's just get to the gear room."

Rounding a corner, they entered a large, metallic building marked with the academy's crest. Inside, rows of lockers and shelves lined the walls, each containing pieces of equipment for the students.

Noah's sour mood dissipated as his eyes lit up. This was what he'd been waiting for—beast gear. Protective suits, reinforced with specialized alloys and integrated with augmentations to enhance the wearer's abilities, lined the shelves.

Kelvin whistled, equally impressed. "Now this is more like it."

...

The beast gear room buzzed with nervous energy as students streamed in, eyes darting from the rows of neatly arranged gear to each other. Noah, standing near the back with Kelvin, kept his expression neutral, but inside, his mind churned.

'Category One beast gears,' he thought, scanning the equipment laid out before them. Polished helmets, reinforced chest plates, gauntlets, and boots—everything designed for defense without sacrificing too much agility. The glint of alloyed materials hinted at added durability, but Noah knew better than to assume invincibility.

"Why does it feel like they're gearing us up for war?" Kelvin muttered beside him, arms crossed and lips set in a tight line. "This is just training, right?"

Noah's brow lifted slightly. "It's not just training. Brooks wouldn't be here if it was. This is an assessment."

Kelvin sighed, rolling his shoulders. "Great. More ways to remind us we're barely keeping up with the Class 1A prodigies."

At that moment, Miss Brooks strode into view, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor. The hum of conversation fell silent as she positioned herself at the center of the room, her gaze sweeping across the gathered students.

"Listen up!" Her voice sliced through the quiet, commanding attention. "Before you pick your gear, there are a few things you need to understand about today's exercise."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. "What you see here are Category One beast gears. They are durable, lightweight, and designed for combat at your current level of skill and strength. While they will offer significant protection, these are not invincible, nor are they toys. Treat them as an extension of yourself, and they may just save your life out there."

Kelvin let out a low whistle. "Save our lives? Sounds promising."

Noah didn't respond. He was already cataloging the information. 'Category One means entry-level protection. Durable enough for low-tier beasts but not for anything beyond that. This isn't about surviving—it's about proving we can thrive under pressure.'

Miss Brooks continued, her tone growing sharper. "This exercise will serve as a continuous assessment. You will form groups of four. The team that retrieves the most beast cores will score the highest and earn a special bonus. Keep in mind that these groups will remain consistent for all future assignments this semester."

Murmurs rippled through the room.

Brooks held up a hand to silence them. "Choose your teammates carefully. By the semester's end, the lowest-scoring group will be demoted to Class 1C. The highest-scoring group, meanwhile, will be promoted to Class 1A."

Kelvin stiffened. "Did she say demoted?"

"Yup," Noah said quietly, watching the flicker of panic dart across several faces around them. 'This isn't just an exercise—it's a chance to shift the hierarchy. A carrot for ambition and a stick for the underperformers.'

A voice from the crowd piped up. "But isn't the whole first year participating? What about students already in Class 1A? Are they competing too?"

Miss Brooks smiled faintly, the kind that made Noah's stomach knot. "An excellent question. Yes, Class 1A, 1B, and 1C are all part of this exercise. Promotions and demotions will be based on your group performance. As for students in 1A, if they excel beyond expectation, they won't be promoted—there's no Year 2 class waiting for them. Instead, they will receive… special rewards."

Another student raised their hand. "What kind of rewards?"

Brooks tilted her head, her smile deepening. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Kelvin groaned under his breath. "Why do teachers always have to be so cryptic?"

"They want to dangle the mystery like bait," Noah replied, his tone dry. 'If I had to guess, the rewards will be tailored to their individual strengths—custom gear, private tutoring, maybe even an early mission deployment.'

Miss Brooks' voice interrupted his thoughts. "Based on the aptitude tests you took earlier, each class's collective strength has been gauged. The areas you will be sent to have been calculated to match your capabilities. The beasts you'll face are within your range but will still require strategy and teamwork to overcome. Do not underestimate them."

Noah leaned slightly toward Kelvin. "She's saying we won't die unless we do something stupid."

Kelvin huffed. "Great. Let's hope stupidity isn't contagious."

Brooks continued, "The previous third set, now Year Three students, currently hold the highest record for beast core retrieval. The academy is eager to see if this year's group can surpass it."

"What's the record?" a voice called out.

Miss Brooks didn't answer immediately. Instead, she turned toward the double doors leading out of the room and gave a curt nod. The sound of footsteps echoed, drawing all eyes to the entrance.

Noah narrowed his gaze. 'She's about to show us exactly what we're up against.'

The heavy double doors creaked open, and two figures stepped in. A murmur rippled through the room like a gust of wind before a storm. All eyes snapped to the crests emblazoned on their chests—a mark reserved only for the academy's elite.

"No way," Kelvin muttered, leaning toward Noah. "They brought in them?"

Noah didn't respond immediately, his gaze narrowing on the duo. The boy, tall and broad-shouldered with a shaved head, walked in like he owned the damn place. His smirk wasn't just cocky—it was the kind of look that said he woke up every morning knowing he was better than you, and if you disagreed, that was your problem. The tray in his hands might as well have been a crown, the way he carried it.

Beside him was the a girl every recruit probably knew. She was slender but commanding, she moved with the kind of precision that made her seem untouchable. Her grey eyes, sharp and unforgiving, scanned the room like she was mentally sorting everyone into piles: tolerable and trash. The dark eyeshadow framing her gaze gave her a gothic vibe, and some of the guys—most of the guys, if Noah was being honest—were already undressing her in their heads.

Average build, sure, but there wasn't much about her you could actually call average. Her chest wasn't huge, but it was enough to make someone notice—and clearly, some were noticing. Her miniskirt didn't help matters either, sitting one thread short of giving up entirely and turning into underwear. Noah caught a few guys elbowing each other, whispering with grins plastered across their faces.

'Classy,' he thought, rolling his eyes.

Kelvin nudged him. "Ice Queen herself, huh? What do you think? Intimidating or overrated?"

Noah smirked. "Perfect for the role of 'woman who stabs you mid-hookup.' But hey, maybe that's your thing."

Kelvin snorted. "I'll pass. Besides, you know half these guys are already mentally casting her in their personal R-rated fantasies."

Noah glanced around the room, noting the not-so-subtle stares from some of their classmates. "Yeah, well, at least they're consistent. One glance at that skirt, and their brains went straight to NSFW."

"Can't blame them," Kelvin muttered. "It's like she came out of some goth magazine's 'Hottest Ice Princess' edition."

Noah's eyes flicked back to her. 'Looks like the kind who doesn't just break hearts—she stomps on the pieces for fun,'

Meanwhile, the bald guy smirked at the room, his tray held high like some sacred offering. Noah couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "Someone needs to tell this guy he's not auditioning for the role of Supreme Douchebag."

Kelvin choked back a laugh. "Nah, man, he'd get the part easy. Look at him—smug bastard probably practices that smirk in the mirror every morning."

"Bet he's got a playlist for it," Noah shot back, his grin widening.

The duo, oblivious to—or maybe reveling in—the murmurs, finally stopped in the center of the room, their presence commanding attention. Noah leaned back against a wall behind a wall of students in front of him, arms crossed, and whispered to Kelvin, "Showtime."

"Number five and number three," someone whispered.

"The Ice Queen…" another voice trailed off.

Miss Brooks waited for the murmurs to die down before addressing the room. "I'm sure you all recognize these two. Allow me to formally introduce them. On my left is Micah Reed, ranked fifth among the academy's top 25 students. And to my right, we have Sienna Voss, ranked third and widely known as the Ice Queen."

Kelvin let out a low whistle. "Third and fifth? They don't mess around."

Noah crossed his arms, studying Sienna. 'Colder in person than the stories, huh? Hard to imagine anyone wanting to get close enough to test that theory.'

Miss Brooks gestured toward the pair. "The academy's top 25 are revered for a reason. They are considered the best of the best, acknowledged even by the headmaster himself. Their dedication to excellence is rewarded with special treatment—private dorms, exclusive meals, personalized training regimens, and the best resources the academy has to offer. Excellence is always rewarded here, and it is the spirit of this reward system that drives today's exercise."

Kelvin nudged Noah. "Special meals? Think they get steak while we're stuck with mystery meat?"

Noah scoffed under his breath. "Probably. They're basically royalty."

Miss Brooks' gaze hardened. "Let me make something very clear. Those in Class 1A, passing this assessment is expected. There will be no special promotions or celebrations because that is the standard of excellence they are held to."

Noah's jaw tightened. 'So, the rest of us need carrots on sticks to stay motivated? What a joke.' He let his eyes wander across the room, noting the tension among his classmates.

'This isn't about fostering growth—it's about separating the dogs from the wolves. The strong get stronger while the rest of us jump through hoops for scraps.'

...

Micah stepped forward, his boots thudding against the floor. He carried the tray with one hand, his posture oozing cocky confidence. "Alright, kiddos, listen up," he said, his deep voice laced with mockery. "On this tray are your new best friends: participation consoles. Fancy little things that strap around your wrists and track everything you do."

He began handing them out, moving slowly, as though savoring the attention.

"You know all of these brings memories. I'm actually honoured miss Brooks here gave us the honor of doing this. Thing is, you may not have heard but back in our time, we absolutely demolished this test. And it's not been done since then!"

Kelvin snorted. "What's the over-under on him throwing in a shitty joke about how he 'crushed it' three years ago?"

"Over," Noah said without hesitation.

As if on cue, Micah stopped beside a student, tapped their bracelet, and projected a holographic screen into the air. The numbers on display made the room fall silent.

"This," Micah announced smugly, "is the record my team set three years ago. Feel free to try and beat it—but don't get your hopes up."

Kelvin groaned. "I hate him already. Smug bastard."

Noah's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. "What gave it away? The bald head or the god complex?"

Micah continued his circuit, pausing now and then to toss out remarks like, "Try not to die out there," and "Maybe you'll make it halfway to our record if you work hard enough."

Noah clenched his fists. 'This guy's insufferable. And the way he looks down on everyone—like we're not even worth his time.'

Once all the bracelets had been distributed, Micah stepped back and folded his arms. "These beauties will track everything—kills, assists, retrievals, and even how many times you trip over your own feet. At the end of the exercise, we'll know exactly who pulled their weight and who didn't. And trust me, if you're deadweight, the only reward you'll get is knowing you dragged your team down with you."

The room bristled, tension increasing.

Sienna finally spoke, her voice as cold as her reputation. "Your bracelets also have trackers and health monitors. If you get lost, injured, or worse, the system will alert the academy. Don't think of it as a safety net—think of it as a leash. If you can't handle the pressure, stay out of the field."

Kelvin's shoulders slumped. "God, she's terrifying. Do you think she's always been this frosty, or did someone piss in her cereal as a kid?"

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Do you want her to hear you say that?"

Kelvin winced. "Point taken."

Micah smirked and tapped his own bracelet. "Oh, and for the record? Our score wasn't just numbers—it was domination. If you want a taste of what it feels like to be the best, you're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than what I'm seeing here."

'Fuck this guy,' Noah thought, glaring at Micah. 'I don't care how good you are. You're still just another asshole in a shiny uniform.'

Miss Brooks stepped forward, her heels clicking with purpose. "Thank you, Micah. Thank you, Sienna," she said with a polite smile. "You may return to your duties now. We'll take it from here."

Micah smirked one last time before leaving, clearly reveling in his performance. Sienna, on the other hand, didn't spare a single glance back. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room seemed to release a collective breath.

Miss Brooks turned to the class, with a certain expression...one that looked almost feral. "Now, listen up," she began, her voice sharp raised high for all to hear"Your transport is being prepared as we speak. In the meantime, I want you all to form your groups as quickly as possible. And remember—these groups are permanent for the semester, so choose wisely."

The class began to stir, students whispering and looking around, but Miss Brooks wasn't finished.

"Oh, and there's one more thing I forgot to mention."

Her tone shifted, taking on an edge that made the room fall silent. She crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping across the sea of nervous faces.

Miss Brooks clasped her hands behind her back, her gaze fierce as she surveyed the room. The energy in the air could be felt, the students clutching their new gear with trembling hands—not from fear, but from a barely-contained eagerness to put them to use.

"As you prepare for this exercise," she began, her tone crisp, "let me remind you of a few facts that should put things in perspective. For starters, it's almost a foregone conclusion that 1A will come out ahead of the other classes." She let that hang in the air, her words slicing through the hopeful murmurs like a blade.

Noah shot Kelvin a side glance. "Damn, she's not even sugarcoating it."

Kelvin snorted. "Why bother? She's just spitting the truth. We're not exactly the school's golden children."

Miss Brooks continued, her heels clicking against the floor as she began to pace. "Secondly, it's also well-known that Class B traditionally outperforms Class C in these evaluations. That's just history talking." She stopped mid-step, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But why am I telling you this?"

Noah arched a brow. 'Oh, here it comes.'

"It's because this isn't just about you as individuals or even as a group. The class as a whole gets evaluated, and guess what? That reflects directly on the teacher." Her gaze swept over them, lingering just long enough on a few students to make them squirm.

As she started walking through the rows, her eyes scanned the students clutching their beast gear. Some held it like prized trophies; others fidgeted, their excitement barely contained.

"This gear you're holding?" She gestured toward a student gripping his gauntlet like it might come alive in his hands. "It's not just a fancy toy. It's a tool. And how you use it will determine whether this class rises to the occasion or becomes a laughingstock."

She stopped near Noah and Kelvin, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. "I expect more than mediocrity. You should expect more from yourselves."

Noah tightened his grip on his gear, her words lighting a fire in his chest. Kelvin leaned closer and muttered, "She's laying it on thick, huh?"

"Yeah," Noah whispered back, "but she's not wrong."

Miss Brooks moved on, her voice ringing out. "You're all dying to try these on, I can see that. But don't let that excitement cloud your focus. There's a lot at stake here—your grades, your futures, and, yes, my reputation. So don't screw this up."

She stopped in the center of the room, planting her hands on her hips. "This isn't just another test. It's a chance to prove that this class can do more than just meet expectations. It's a chance to exceed them. And if that's not motivation enough…"

She straightened her posture, and as if on cue, her chest rose with a commanding bounce that sent a ripple through the room. Several students stood up straighter, their attention sharper than ever.

Noah's jaw tightened as a single thought burned in his mind. 'She's so awesome!!!'

"I wasn't made Class 1B's homeroom teacher because I wasn't good enough to teach Class 1A," she declared, her voice rising with every word. Then, with deliberate slowness, she beat her fist against her chest, causing a ripple effect that had more than a few students' eyes glued to her.

"I was made your teacher because I make winners." She pointed a manicured finger at the class. "Don't fuck this up!"

The room buzzed with renewed energy, her words silencing the murmur like a war cry.

If her declaration wasn't motivation enough, the ripple effect of her chest was. At least for some.

Noah's eyes snapped back to her face, his heart pounding. Focus, he told himself, but his lips curled into a grin he couldn't quite suppress.

'Goddamn, she knows how to work a crowd.'

Kelvin leaned over, muttering, "Did she just…?"

"She did," Noah replied, his voice low.

Kelvin shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Man, I don't know whether to feel inspired or intimidated."

"All I know is," Noah said, cracking his knuckles, "I'm ready. Let's do this!!!"

...

Miss Brooks stepped back, her eyes scanning the class as the students began fumbling with their participation consoles. Each bracelet gleamed with a faint, pulsating light, a reminder of its cutting-edge tech. The room was alive with the soft sound of activation sounds as students began strapping the devices onto their wrists.

Noah tightened the strap on his bracelet, the cool metal sending a shiver through his arm. A soft chime sounded as it snapped into place, followed by a holographic screen flickering to life above his forearm.

[Participant Confirmed: Noah Eclipse. Class: 1B. Rank: Unrated.]

A mechanical voice rang out, smooth and clinical, filling his ears. "Diagnostics complete. Vital signs stable. Prepare for gear synchronization."

Kelvin glanced over, his bracelet glowing faintly. "You hear that? Vital signs stable. Guess the doc was wrong about my blackened soul."

Noah smirked, shaking his head. "Maybe it's still loading."

Across the room, the other students were experiencing similar first-time jitters. There were a lot of nervous whispers and muttering as each student activated their bracelet.

The holographic interface above each device displayed a swirling set of options, a selection of gear choices based on the academy's meticulously curated armory. But this wasn't just any armory—this was beast gear.

Post-apocalyptic ingenuity had birthed a revolution in weaponry. Beast gear wasn't just metal and wires; it was alive, well to some extent.

They were fashioned from the bones, claws, and scales of the mutated creatures that now roamed the earth, these weapons carried the primal ferocity of their original owners. Each weapon was unique, infused with an essence that gave its wielder an edge—if they could handle it.

A girl was the first to make a move. She stood at the front, her every motion deliberate as she raised her bracelet toward the armory interface. The holographic screen shimmered, presenting an array of weapons. Her finger hovered over the selection briefly before she pressed down.

The sound that followed was unlike anything else—a deep, resonating growl that made the hair on the back of Noah's neck stand on end.

The armory hissed open, releasing a burst of cold vapor. From the mist emerged a weapon that could only be described as terrifying: a sleek, obsidian glaive with serrated edges that gleamed under the artificial lights. The shaft seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, and the blade itself carried faint etchings resembling veins.

Sienna grasped the glaive, and the instant her fingers wrapped around it, a surge of energy coursed through her body. Her eyes flickered with a strange light for a moment before settling. She gave the weapon an experimental twirl, its blade cutting the air with a sound akin to a beast's snarl.

Kelvin's jaw dropped. "Holy shit. That thing looks like it's about to eat her."

"Probably will if she's not careful," Noah said, but his voice carried more awe than sarcasm.

One by one, the students began selecting their weapons. Each activation of the armory brought forth another monstrous creation—spiked gauntlets that crackled with bio-electricity, a bow crafted from the ribcage of some long-dead predator, and even a shield made from an armored carapace, its surface bristling with spines.

When Kelvin stepped forward, he paused dramatically, letting the tension build. "Alright, let's see what this bad boy's got for me."

The armory responded with a low rumble, as if annoyed by his theatrics. His selection materialized with a heavy thud—a pair of massive hammers, their heads made from gleaming silver tusks.

"Dual wielding," Kelvin said, grinning as he lifted the hammers. "Told you I was born for this."

When it was Noah's turn, the room seemed to quiet. He approached the armory, his heart pounding. The holographic interface glowed softly, displaying an array of choices. He hesitated, his eyes scanning the options.

'Something fast,' he thought. 'Something that'll keep me alive.'

His finger moved to select a sleek pair of blades. The armory hissed, and the weapons emerged with a predatory elegance. The twin blades were forged from some kind of gleaming black bone, their edges so sharp they seemed to cut the very air around them. He picked them up, feeling a strange warmth spread through his palms.

"Guess it's you and me," he murmured, giving them a few test swings. They moved like extensions of his body, responding to his slightest thought.

Kelvin whistled. "Those look nasty. Planning to fight or perform surgery?"

"Depends who I'm fighting," Noah shot back.

Next everyone began to put on their protective gear.

Sounds of buckles clicked into place and straps tightening filled the room as the students donned their protective gear. Each suit was identical: a form-fitting black bodysuit made of lightweight yet durable material, reinforced with segmented plates over vital areas like the chest, shoulders, and thighs. The sleek design hinted at hidden technology, but the visible details—like the faint blue glow outlining the seams—spoke of practicality over flash.

The gloves had alloy-tipped fingers for hand-to-hand combat, while the boots featured retractable spikes for added traction. Every piece of gear had a purpose, designed for survival in environments far less forgiving than the classroom.

Kelvin tugged at the chest plate, flexing his arms. "This is either cutting-edge tech or a fancy way to suffocate us."

"Better than the alternative," Noah muttered as he adjusted the straps on his gloves. "You'd prefer going out there with a hoodie and jeans?"

Kelvin smirked. "You say that like I wouldn't look good doing it."

Miss Brooks clapped her hands, silencing the chatter. "Gear checks done? Good. Now for the part where you show me you can think as well as fight."

The students turned their attention to the screen behind her, which lit up with a roster of names.

"Groups of four," she announced. "These will be your permanent teams for the semester. This isn't a casual pick-your-buddies situation. Choose wisely, because the wrong choice could cost you more than just a grade. Balance is everything—strength, strategy, and adaptability. Without all three, you'll fail. And failure, as you know, isn't an option."

...

The room buzzed with low conversations as students began turning to one another, some pairing off immediately, others hesitating as they scanned the crowd.

Kelvin nudged Noah. "Alright, easy choice. You and me—done."

Noah nodded. "Obviously. But we're gonna need more than just brawn. We need someone sharp."

Kelvin rubbed his chin, his gaze sweeping the room. "Lila, maybe? She's quiet, but people say she's smart. Plus I think she got the best score in the written assessment?"

Noah glanced toward the wiry girl tightening her gloves with deliberate precision. She moved with a calm efficiency, her sharp eyes darting from group to group.

It was impossible to ignore her figure, though. The black bodysuit clung to her curves, the reinforced material straining across her chest. She adjusted the straps over her shoulders, muttering under her breath as the suit groaned against her ample bust. It seemed like the designers hadn't considered this level of ...fleshy generosity in their sizing charts.

"She's a thinker," Noah agreed, forcing himself to focus. "But is she a fighter?"

"We've got the fighting covered," Kelvin pointed out. "What we need is someone who can keep us from walking into traps."

"Fair." Noah called out to Lila, who looked up, her expression guarded.

"Lila, we're putting together a team. You in?"

She hesitated for a bit before nodding. "As long as you don't expect me to play babysitter."

Kelvin grinned. "Deal."

"That's three," Noah said. "Now we need someone... unpredictable."

Kelvin raised an eyebrow. "Unpredictable? Isn't that a bad thing?"

"No," Noah said, scanning the room again. "Someone who doesn't play by the book. Keeps opponents guessing. Remember Miss Brooks made this as much of a competition as it was survival. We have to come out on top!"

Kelvin nodded, agreeing with Noah. Lila on the otherhand looked at them both and smiled, perhaps wondering why they were in over their heads but with that much confidence in themselves.

Noah's gaze landed on a girl sitting near the edge of the room. Her name was Cora. She leaned back in her chair, legs crossed, exuding a lazy confidence that bordered on arrogance. Her petite frame was deceptive; she was small and wiry, with lean muscle evident in the way her toned arms rested casually over the chair's edge. Her short, choppy hair was packed in an efficient bun, with streaks of black hair framing her sharp, mischievous face.

"What about her?" Noah asked, nodding toward Cora.

Kelvin frowned. "Cora? Isn't she... a bit of a loner?"

"Exactly," Noah said. "She doesn't care about anyone's approval. That makes her dangerous."

They approached Cora, who didn't bother sitting up as they neared.

"You've got a team yet?" Noah asked.

She raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Why? You need me to carry you?"

Kelvin snorted. "We just need someone who can keep up."

Cora's grin widened as she finally straightened, her small frame vibrating with a quiet energy. "I don't keep up. I lead. But sure, I'll join—if only to keep things interesting."

With the team assembled, Noah felt a flicker of confidence. They weren't the obvious choice, but there was potential here—strength, strategy, and the wild card factor that might just give them an edge.

Miss Brooks clapped her hands again. "All set? Good. Because from this point on, you're not just classmates. You're survival partners. Gear selection is complete. Now, take a moment to familiarize yourselves with your weapons. You'll need every advantage you can get."

The students spread out, testing their new gear. The room was filled with the clash of blades, the sound of beast gear energy, and the occasional startled yelp as someone misjudged the power of their weapon.

Kelvin swung his hammers experimentally, the sheer weight of them making the floor tremble. "Man, this thing's got some serious bite. I'm gonna crush it out there—literally."

Noah twirled his blades, their edges gleaming. "Just don't trip over yourself while you're at it."

Miss Brooks glanced at her watch, her expression sharpening. "Alright, everyone. Playtime's over. Gather with your groups. The transport will be here in five minutes, and trust me—you don't want to miss it."

As they left the armory, miss Brooks led the way, her posture rigid and commanding, exuding an aura that demanded focus. Noah trailed slightly behind her, flanked by his new team. They moved together now, unified in their gear, but to him, the differences between them were impossible to ignore.

Lila, with her chest practically fighting against the constraints of her bodysuit, walked with a composed, almost clinical precision. 'She's sharp and steady, probably the kind of person who overanalyzes every move. Good for strategy, but I wonder if she'll freeze under pressure,' Noah thought, watching the way her blonde hair clung to her forehead, already damp with effort.

Cora, on the other hand, walked as though she owned the hallway. Her small frame practically disappeared in the shadows of the larger students around her, but her presence was impossible to ignore. Her silver-streaked hair caught the light, and there was a sly, almost predatory grin on her lips as she glanced around. Wild card for sure. 'She might screw up just to make things more "fun," but she'll also throw people off. That's a weapon in itself,' Noah mused, shaking his head slightly.

Kelvin was steady as always. His best friend adjusted the straps on his gloves with the kind of confidence that came from years of being reliable. 'I don't even need to think about him. Kelvin's got my back, always has. Maybe he's not the loudest or the strongest, but he's the anchor,'

And then there was him. Noah caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a passing window. His suit clung tightly to his lean but muscular frame, the reinforced plates emphasizing his broad shoulders and wiry strength. He ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, trying to fight the nagging voice that said he might not be ready for this.

'I look the part,' he thought. 'Now I just have to prove I can play it.'

As they approached the large open space of the base, Noah's thoughts were interrupted by the noise outside. The space was a hive of activity, with aircraft landing and taking off with less than shy jet engines roaring.

One ship had just touched down, its sleek, angular design glinting under the harsh lights of the hangar. Miss Brooks was heading straight for it, her stride purposeful.

Noah's gaze lingered on the aircraft for a moment before he noticed movement from the opposite side of the field. A group was approaching—a single line of students walking with perfect synchronization. Their matching suits were spotless, the faint glow of their gear brighter, more polished.

"Class 1-A," Lila murmured, her voice tight.

Noah didn't need an introduction. The way they moved said everything. At the front of the line wasn't a student but their homeroom teacher—a man with sharp, angular features and a composed presence that felt both effortless and deliberate. His deep-set eyes scanned the field, taking in every detail with clinical precision.

Noah noticed the briefest flicker of acknowledgment between him and Miss Brooks. A subtle nod. Neither spoke, but the charged silence that passed between them said more than words ever could. It wasn't hostility, but it wasn't exactly friendly either.

"Great," Cora muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "The golden kids are here to remind us how average we are."

"They don't look so tough," Kelvin said, his voice steady, though Noah caught the slight tension in his jaw.

Noah's attention shifted back to the Class 1-A teacher. He moved with an almost predatory grace, his calm demeanor amplifying the quiet authority that trailed behind him like a shadow. The students following in perfect formation seemed more like an extension of his will than individuals.

'He's good, no question about it,' Noah thought. 'But Miss Brooks doesn't take orders from anyone. Whatever this...thing is between them, she's not backing down,'

Miss Brooks, for her part, didn't break stride or even glance back again. Instead, her voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Eyes front. You're not here to compare yourself to them. You're here to win."

The words hit Noah like a slap. He straightened his posture, his unease replaced with a renewed sense of purpose. Whatever rivalry existed between Miss Brooks and the other teacher wasn't his to question.

But even as they approached the aircraft, he couldn't help but notice the subtle way the Class 1-A teacher turned slightly, offering Miss Brooks a faint, almost teasing smirk.

Miss Brooks didn't respond, but there was a steely edge to her expression that hadn't been there before.

"Looks like someone's got her riled up," Cora whispered under her breath, just loud enough for the group to hear.

Noah smirked to himself. 'Whatever this thing is between them, it might be just the edge we need'

...

The raucous sound of laughter and clanging footsteps announced the arrival of Class 1-C before Noah even saw them. When he turned, the group was exactly what he expected: a collection of misfits, their gear sloppily worn and their demeanor screaming rebellion. One of them, a lanky boy with a crooked grin, wore his chest plate unbuckled, and another—a girl with spiky purple hair—carried her helmet under her arm as if it were optional.

Miss Brooks didn't spare them more than a passing glance, but Noah watched closely.

'They look like they'd rather pick a fight with each other than anything else. But… that could work to their advantage. Chaos is unpredictable. With the right push, they could be dangerous.'

As he studied them, he caught the eye of one of their members, a broad-shouldered boy with a jagged scar running down his cheek. The boy smirked, nudging his teammate as if to say, look, they're scared of us. Noah didn't break eye contact.

'Let them think what they want. Everyone here is a threat, even if they don't look like it.'

Cora leaned toward him. "Class 1-C. The dropouts of tomorrow," she muttered under her breath.

"Or the wild card no one sees coming," Noah replied softly, his gaze still fixed on the unruly group.

As Class 1-C loitered near the ship, the other students began to pair up, forming small groups. The base buzzed with quiet anticipation, the low hum of the aircraft engines in the background adding a sense of urgency to the air.

Noah's eyes scanned the crowd, cataloging alliances. Everyone was sizing each other up, covering for weaknesses with strengths. It was a natural instinct, survival at its finest.

'Humans have survived plagues, wars, and apocalypses. It's in our DNA to adapt and overcome. Some of these groups might look weak now, but that's what makes them dangerous. Underestimating them would be stupid.'

His gaze landed on Adrian Albright, the son of Commander Albright, standing awkwardly with three girls. The group looked more like they were on their way to a high school dance than a survival exercise.

'Why is he in Class 1-B?' Noah wondered. 'With his dad's pull, he could've been shoved into Class 1-A without breaking a sweat. Maybe the commander doesn't want to risk him getting found out… or maybe he wants to teach him a lesson. Either way, it's none of my business.'

The homeroom teachers began to board the aircraft, their crisp uniforms standing out against the crowd of students in full gear. Miss Brooks exchanged a curt nod with Class 1-A's homeroom teacher, a tall man with a sharp jawline and an infuriatingly smug expression.

As everyone filed onto the aircraft, Noah got his first close look at the ship. Sleek and massive, its metallic body gleamed under the sun, and the faint hum of its crystal-powered engines was a reminder of its sheer power.

'So this is it. State-of-the-art. I've seen it take off a hundred times, but being inside it? That's new.'

The interior was as impressive as the exterior—rows of seats with harnesses, monitors displaying live feed from external cameras, and storage compartments for gear. Noah strapped himself in, glancing at the others doing the same.

The three homeroom teachers stood at the front of the cabin. Miss Brooks stepped forward first, her voice steady and commanding. "Listen up. This is a large-scale assessment. Before we drop you off, there are a few things you need to understand."

She gestured to the monitors, which displayed a map of the area. "This zone has been scouted thoroughly. The majority of the beasts you'll encounter are Category 1. There's a chance you'll run into a stray Category 2, but that's unlikely. Your mission is straightforward—eliminate threats, collect resources, and survive until extraction. The rendezvous point will be pinged to your bracelets."

Class 1A homeroom teacher scoffed and this caused everyone to look his way including miss Brooks who wasn't impressed from the look on her face.

Now looking at all three teachers, Noah found them to be an odd trio.

The three homeroom teachers stood together near the landing craft, quite the contrasts to one another. It was almost comedic how different they were, like three characters from entirely separate genres thrown into the same story.

First was Mr. Elias Vane, the homeroom teacher for Class 1-A. He stood like a monument, tall and broad-shouldered, his uniform crisp enough to cut paper. His beard was neatly trimmed, and his blue eyes seemed to gleam with perpetual judgment. Even his boots looked like they'd been polished by angels.

'Of course he would look like a recruitment poster for the base,' Noah thought, stifling a snort. 'Bet he wakes up every morning reciting motivational speeches in front of the mirror.'

Vane then finally spoke. "Category 2? I trust that won't be a challenge for my students. After all, they've been trained to exceed expectations."

The smugness in his tone wasn't lost on anyone, least of all Miss Brooks, who didn't so much as twitch in response. Noah could almost feel the silent battle of wills between them.

Next to Vane was Mr. Damien Rourke, the teacher for Class 1-C. Where Vane was sharp and polished, Rourke was rugged and casual, the kind of guy who looked like he was one bad day away from ditching his uniform entirely. His dark hair was tousled, and a hint of stubble shadowed his jawline. His boots were scuffed, his sleeves slightly rolled up, and he had the demeanor of someone who'd just finished a nap.

'Rourke looks like he should be leading a biker gang, not a class,' Noah mused, watching him lean against the bulkhead. 'But those eyes… he's not as relaxed as he pretends to be. That's someone who's seen things.'

Rourke's grin was lopsided as he addressed his class. "All right, kiddos. Category 1, Category 2… who cares? Just don't get eaten. I'm not in the mood to fill out death reports."

A few snickers rippled through Class 1-C, their motley crew of misfits clearly used to his laid-back style. Rourke caught Noah's eye for a split second, giving him a knowing nod that felt like a silent warning.

And then there was Miss Brooks, their own teacher, standing between the two extremes. If Vane was all discipline and Rourke all chaos, she was the razor-sharp balance in between. Her short, tailored hair framed her face like a helmet, and her piercing gaze could have any man's balls retreating in its sac.

'Miss Brooks could take down both of them in an argument and still have time to lead us into battle,' Noah thought. 'And she wouldn't even break a sweat.'

She turned to address all the students again, coughing slightly while looking at Mr Vain momentarily, her tone was crisp and professional. "Safety briefing," she said yet again, silencing the murmurs. "This isn't a game. You will encounter Category 1 beasts and potentially stray Category 2s. You are to terminate operation and rendezvous at the extraction point in the event of anything higher. Is that clear?"

Vane, unable to resist, added, "I'm confident my students will rise to the challenge should a Category 2 appear. They've been well-prepared for such… inconveniences." His eyes flicked to Miss Brooks, his smirk a deliberate provocation.

Miss Brooks didn't bite, but Rourke couldn't help but chuckle. "Relax, Vane. Not all of us are trying to win Teacher of the Year."

The tension in the air was thick, but Noah found himself more intrigued than nervous.

'Three teachers, three philosophies. Brooks is all about precision. Vane's obsessed with excellence. And Rourke? He just wants to see who makes it out alive. Together, they're like some weird power trio. I just hope this doesn't turn into a battle of egos before we even get off the ground.'

As the teachers finished their briefing, the engines of the craft began to hum to life. Noah stole a glance at the other classes.

Class 1-C, the so-called misfits, was a chaotic tangle of individuals who somehow managed to function as a unit. They laughed, shoved, and argued, but there was something raw about their energy.

'They're unpredictable,' Noah thought, narrowing his eyes. 'And unpredictability is dangerous. Rourke's teaching them to use that chaos. I'll need to keep an eye on them.'

Class 1-A, on the other hand, moved like a machine—disciplined, precise, and efficient.

'All polish and no cracks,' Noah noted. 'But cracks are where you find weaknesses. I wonder if they're as perfect as Vane wants us to believe.'

As for his own class, he couldn't help but notice how everyone had paired up, their strengths and weaknesses balancing each other out.

'Everyone's got a role to play,' Noah thought, clenching his fists. 'And if we're going to survive this, we need to be ready for anything.'

The ramp of the craft lowered, and Miss Brooks gestured for them to board. "This is your last chance for questions," she said.

Noah glanced at his teammates, their faces a mix of anxiety and eagerness. Just like him, not everyone had been on board a ship like this before.He took a deep breath, stepping forward with the others. 'No questions here. Let's see what we're made of.'

The trip was mostly quiet, with everyone left to their own thoughts. For Noah, that meant overthinking—his mental default. He stared at the floor of the craft, absently tracing the grooves of its metal panels with his eyes.

'Perfect Echo,' he thought with a bitter edge of sarcasm. 'Because mimicking someone's movements is so helpful when you're hunting beasts.'

He glanced at his teammates. Kelvin was slouched against the wall, head tilted back in a deep, unbothered sleep. Cora leaned forward with her arms crossed, her brow furrowed in thought. Lila sat upright, humming softly to herself, looking unreasonably cheerful for someone about to face potential death.

'Maybe they won't be too judgmental?' Noah wondered, hoping his lack of impressive abilities wouldn't make him the group scapegoat. He clenched his fists and decided to shove the worry aside for now. They had bigger things to deal with.

Suddenly, a loud whistle blared through the cabin, jolting everyone. The craft gave a slight shudder as it began to descend. Noah felt the floor vibrate beneath his boots and gripped his seat.

"We're landing," Miss Brooks announced over the comm.

The craft touched down with a mechanical hiss, and the rear hatch creaked open, revealing their destination.

Noah and the others hesitated at first, blinking as they stepped out into the light. The landing area sprawled out before them like something torn straight from a surreal painting. The trees towered above them, their trunks thicker than any they'd ever seen, with bark that shimmered faintly as if embedded with fragments of crystal. Their leaves were broad and iridescent, catching the sunlight in strange ways, casting colorful shadows across the forest floor.

The air smelled faintly metallic, mingled with a damp, earthy tang. The ground beneath their feet was soft, blanketed by a thick carpet of moss that glowed faintly green. The entire landscape felt alien, a stark departure from anything they'd learned about the Earth before the Seed.

In the distance, strange flowers bloomed in clusters, their petals pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. A low hum buzzed faintly in the background, almost as if the forest itself was alive and breathing.

For a brief moment, Noah stood frozen, taking it all in.

'This isn't Earth,' he thought, swallowing hard. 'Not the Earth we were taught about. It's something else entirely.'

Him for one hadn't ventured out of the military base since he was born. It wasn't safe outside.

A soft chime snapped everyone's attention back to their wrist devices. The holographic displays projected a countdown:

24:00:00

"What?!" Cora exclaimed, her voice cutting through the silence.

"Twenty-four hours?!" someone else echoed in disbelief.

The reality sank in quickly. The hunt was a whole day!

Teams scattered, their boots crunching against the moss as they dashed toward the forest, eager to claim their kills.

Cora nudged Noah, her tone urgent. "Let's move. Standing here gawking isn't going to help us."

Kelvin yawned, stretching as he jogged alongside them. "Relax. It's just the start. The beasts probably aren't even close to this area yet."

Lila, still oddly cheerful, skipped ahead. "I hope we find something cool! Like a glowing snake or a crystal fox."

Noah trailed behind, his gaze darting between the shimmering trees and the disappearing teams.

'Cool or not, we just need to survive,' he thought grimly, steeling himself as their group plunged into the forest.

...

The hunt was on and Cora charged ahead without hesitation, her boots pressing into the mossy ground as she carved her path through the strange forest. Noah frowned and quickened his pace. "Cora, stay close! Splitting up isn't going to help."

Cora didn't stop. She glanced back, her face set in determination. "Scattered or not, I'm not losing valuable points to class 1C, and I'm definitely not coming in last."

Noah gritted his teeth. He couldn't exactly argue with her point, but still—rushing off like this? "I get it, but we need to stick together. At least for now, that's what makes sense."

That stopped her. Cora whirled around abruptly, her eyes narrowing as she marched back toward him. "Oh, you get it, huh? Let me remind you of a couple of things, genius." She held up a finger. "First, I was the one approached to join this team. Not you. Me. I didn't volunteer, and I didn't beg anyone to hold my hand."

Noah blinked, caught off guard, but Cora wasn't done. She jabbed another finger toward him. "Second, who exactly made you the group leader?"

Silence fell between them like a heavy weight. Kelvin, still looking half asleep, raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Cora's lips curled into a scoff, and she crossed her arms. "Thought so." She turned her back to him, shaking her head. "Fine, I said so."

Kelvin, breaking the tension, yawned loudly. "You guys done yet? Because while we're standing here arguing, class 1A students are already on the leaderboard."

"What?" Noah said, his voice sharp with disbelief.

Kelvin shrugged and raised his wrist, tapping on his bracelet. "See for yourself."

Noah and the others checked their devices, and sure enough, the leaderboard displayed Class 1A at the top with points already stacking up. The numbers moved steadily, indicating kills being registered in real time.

"Damn…" Noah muttered, his brows furrowing. 'They're already racking up kills? How the hell did they find beasts that fast?'

"It's not individual points yet," Kelvin added. "It's just a class total for now. Still… you don't have to be a genius to figure out which group in their class is carrying everyone."

Before anyone could comment further, Lila chimed in cheerfully, seemingly out of nowhere. "You know, Cora's right. Spreading out is the best thing to do. We'll cover more ground that way, and if anyone finds a beast, it's collective points for the team no matter who makes the kill."

Noah turned to her, frowning. "We're stronger together."

Lila tilted her head with a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not if we waste time stumbling around like we're on a group field trip. The bracelets are pretty cool, by the way—they'll register stress levels and void energy during combat. That means everyone can get credit for 'participation.' So all you boys need to do is actually move and look alive out there. That simple enough for you, Noah?"

Noah stiffened at the jab, his jaw tightening. 'What's her deal?' He kept his mouth shut, though; engaging wouldn't help.

Kelvin snorted, breaking the awkward pause. "Okay, so it's settled then. Noah and I will take one route, and you two—" He motioned lazily toward Lila and Cora. "—take another."

"That's stupid," Lila shot back without hesitation, her tone as blunt as ever. "You two together? You'd be nothing but cannon fodder."

Kelvin raised a brow, smirking faintly. "Oh? Enlighten us, O wise one."

"Simple," Lila said with a shrug. "We pair one girl with one boy. That way no one drags anyone else down too badly."

Cora didn't wait for anyone's agreement. She turned abruptly, striding toward the thick underbrush. "Kelvin, try to keep up," she called over her shoulder.

Kelvin, chuckling dryly, followed after her. "Guess I'm tagging along, then. Don't slow me down, Cora."

That left Noah standing next to Lila, who sighed heavily as she stared at him. "Well, looks like we're stuck with each other. Try not to screw this up." Her tone made it sound like this arrangement was the worst thing that had happened to her all year.

Noah frowned, watching her start ahead. 'Did she already know about my useless ability?' he wondered.

It wasn't likely. Very few people knew what ability he'd awakened last month during the entrance tests at the base. He'd been careful—too careful—to rely on his wits more than his abilities during the trials. Outside of Kelvin and the testers present that day, no one should have known.

'So why the cold shoulders?'

Perhaps there was no other reason other than she was a bitch, people could be so.

Noah sighed, following after her as the shimmering trees swallowed them both. Whatever it was, he'd figure it out eventually. For now, all he could do was stay sharp and hope for the best.

Noah adjusted the twin blades strapped to his back as he walked behind Lila through the unfamiliar forest. The landscape felt wrong—trees that shimmered slightly, their bark as smooth as glass and twisting unnaturally upward. It was a far cry from the forests in old Earth textbooks or even what he'd seen during the training simulations.

Ahead of him, Lila walked at an even pace, unfazed, her silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the eerie glow of the terrain. Noah's gaze settled on the strange weapon strapped to her back—a jagged, curved contraption that looked more like a piece of scavenged scrap than a weapon. What the hell even is that? he thought.

His eyes drifted down for a moment. On an attractive scale, Lila wasn't breathtaking—she didn't have the polished beauty that Jessica, the school belle flaunted, or the girl-next-door charm—but there was something about her. A ruggedness.

But she did have pronounced, extroverted chests for sure. They were good on the eyes, sure, but there was this chip on her shoulder that made it impossible for him to actually like her.

Before his thoughts spiraled further, Lila's voice broke the silence. "Ever seen a beast before?"

Noah blinked, startled. "What?"

"A beast. Have you ever seen one? Or fought one?" Lila repeated without looking back.

"Oh," Noah replied, stepping over a fallen branch. "I've seen a couple, but mostly dead ones. Soldiers would bring them back to the base where I grew up." He adjusted the strap of his blades. "What about you?"

Lila shrugged. "I've seen a few. Nothing special."

There was a brief silence before she spoke again, her tone light but probing. "It must've been something, though. Growing up among all the great names—must've been hard to keep your head up, huh?"

Noah's jaw tightened, her words hitting too close to home. "Yeah…no confidence at all."

Lila had a point. Back at the base, Noah had been surrounded by legends—tough guys, iron-willed women, and strong-as-hell soldiers who either became icons or died trying. Most of the time, the latter was true. Beasts and Harbingers didn't care about names or reputations. They chewed people up and spit them out just the same.

"Sure it must've been hard living in the shadows of your parents, though, right?" Lila added casually.

Noah stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned sharply to look at her. "What did you just say?"

Lila finally glanced back, her expression unreadable. "I said—"

"No. How do you know about that?"

For as long as he could remember, most kids thought he was the cleaner's son. They mocked him for it, sure, but it had never really bothered him. If anything, it was easier that way. Being invisible was preferable to being scrutinized. But now, here she was—Lila—casually dropping hints that she knew the truth.

Lila met his gaze without flinching. "Why does it matter?"

Noah narrowed his eyes. "I'm asking you."

She shrugged again, as if his sudden intensity was amusing. "Relax. I just figured it out. It's not hard to connect the dots when you know what to look for." She tilted her head slightly. "To some extent, I get it, you know? Constantly having to prove you're just as worthy as everyone else."

At that moment, Noah wasn't listening anymore. His mind was racing. If she knew… did that mean others knew too? Kelvin, for one, liked to dig into people's backgrounds. It wasn't far-fetched to think people like him had figured it out.

'Damn it'

Lila's voice dragged him back to reality. "Look, I don't particularly like teaming up," she said, continuing to walk forward. "People tend to slow me down. I usually prefer my own route." She threw a glance over her shoulder, smirking faintly. "But a pair of misfits like us? It couldn't hurt, right?"

Noah's teeth clenched. Misfits? Did she seriously just lump him into that category? Who the hell did she think she was?

A low thrum of anger simmered in his chest. He didn't describe himself with those words. He wasn't some lost cause, some tagalong no one wanted. The way she said it—so casual, so dismissive—made his blood boil.

As they walked, something clicked in his mind, and he suddenly asked, "You're a second generation, right?"

Lila paused slightly, glancing back. "Yeah. What about it?"

Noah frowned, his thoughts piecing together a possibility. "So why were you without a team during the selection? Someone with your background—whatever ability you awakened—you'd think you'd be the first pick for anyone."

Lila didn't reply right away, her face shadowed as she looked ahead.

He pressed further. "What, did you reject everyone else?"

Because, in truth, this excercise wasn't about fairness. If you wanted to stand out, all you had to do was outperform everyone else. But no one said it had to be with people on your level let alone your own teammates. What if—

What if she saw them as a stepping stone? A way to outshine everyone around her. To dazzle the instructors, climb to the top of the leaderboard, and make the rest of them look like fools in comparison.

It wasn't far-fetched.

Noah's fists clenched. 'If that's the case…fuck this bitch,'

The thought flashed through his mind, sudden and raw. He hated the idea of being someone else's tool, their stepping stone to greatness.

Lila turned back briefly, her brow raised as if she sensed the tension. "What? You're overthinking something again, aren't you?"

Noah forced his expression neutral, masking the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "No."

She didn't press further, only giving him another strange look before continuing ahead, her odd weapon bouncing lightly on her back.

Noah followed, his mind turning like gears grinding in frustration. He wasn't about to let anyone—anyone—treat him like dead weight. Whatever game Lila was playing, he'd figure it out soon enough.

Before the tension between them could boil over, a distant sound broke through the forest air.

Noah froze, his thoughts screeching to a halt. Lila stiffened too, immediately dropping into a low stance. Her hand hovered over the weapon on her back, eyes scanning the area.

"What was that?" she whispered.

Noah blinked, listening more closely. The rhythmic whines and gasps reached them again, louder this time. He blinked hard as realization hit.

His lips twitched.

'No way,'

Lila remained focused, her stance rigid. "Stay close. I think there's something ahead."

Noah pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to hold back his laughter. "Lila," he said, his voice shaking with amusement. "Relax. I don't think it's what you think."

"What?" she shot back, still on high alert.

Noah gestured toward the source of the sound, struggling to keep his composure. "Just…listen."

Another sharp cry echoed through the trees, followed by giggles and hushed voices. Lila's expression faltered as the realization hit her as well. She straightened slowly, her face coloring slightly.

"…Are you kidding me?"

Noah finally let out a low laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, this is priceless."

They crept forward, peering through the bushes into a small clearing ahead. What they saw made Noah's jaw drop.

A group of students—at least eight of them—were in various states of undress, tangled in one another on the forest floor. Clothes were scattered everywhere, and the sounds coming from the group made it abundantly clear what was happening.

"Are those Class 1C tags?" Noah whispered, incredulous.

"Looks like it," Lila muttered, her tone flat with disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with them?"

Noah snorted, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Guess they couldn't pass up the chance. You've got to admit, that's dedication to failure."

Lila shot him a glare, though her lips twitched with something close to reluctant amusement. "Idiots. They're going to fail the trial."

"Yeah, well," Noah replied, grinning, "at least they'll fail happy."

Lila sighed, turning away. "Come on. Let's pretend this never happened."

"Sure, sure," Noah said, still chuckling as he followed. "But I'm gonna be thinking about this for a long time."

"Don't," Lila muttered.

"Oh, I will."

As they walked away, Noah couldn't help but shake his head, still grinning. 'Class 1C,' he thought. Unbelievable.

...

They had covered a fair distance, the strange clearing of Class 1C now far behind them. The mood shifted as the forest grew denser, the canopy above swallowing much of the daylight. Shadows crept across the ground, stretching like claws with every step they took.

Lila came to an abrupt stop, crouching low. "Hold on."

Noah's brows furrowed as he walked up beside her. "What?"

She pointed at the ground. "There."

Noah followed her gesture and saw it—dark smears of blood trailing across the leaves and dirt. Nearby, strange prints were imprinted into the soft earth. They were heavy and irregular, as though whatever had made them dragged something behind it.

"…That's not a human footprint," Noah muttered, uneasy.

Lila frowned. "No. And I don't think it's fresh either, but it's recent enough."

Her tone had shifted. It wasn't the usual biting sarcasm he'd come to expect; it was sharp, calculating. Her eyes darted from the trail of blood to a shadowy formation ahead. A cave.

The opening loomed like a dark mouth, wide enough for a truck to roll through but shrouded in shadows so thick it was impossible to tell what lay within.

Noah swallowed hard. He didn't like this—not one bit. "So…what do you think it is? A wounded beast?"

Lila didn't answer immediately. She stood up straight, her gaze fixed on the cave. "Maybe. Or something worse."

Noah blinked at her. Something worse?

Regardless, he couldn't voice his thoughts. If Lila wanted to check it out, there was no way he could back down now. He hated the idea of looking like a coward more than he hated the cave itself.

Lila turned to him, her expression unreadable. "I'll take point. You cover our rear. Stay sharp."

"Military command already?" Noah muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, drawing his twin blades with a faint metallic ring. The cold steel in his hands offered little comfort, but at least it felt familiar. He scanned the trees behind them, then the entrance of the cave ahead.

Lila led the way, stepping over roots and pushing through low-hanging branches as they approached the mouth of the cave. The air around it was noticeably cooler, carrying a faint dampness that made Noah's skin crawl.

As they entered, the cave swallowed all outside light. The walls were smooth, worn down by time and moisture. Water dripped faintly in the distance, the sound echoing eerily in the quiet.

The blood trail continued, a stark red against the gray rock. Noah's instincts screamed at him to turn back, but Lila didn't slow down.

"This could be good," she said quietly, her voice echoing slightly. "If it's a beast, then we're lucky. Easy points for the kill."

Noah stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "You call walking blind into a cave lucky?"

She shot him a look over her shoulder. "Do you have a better idea? This is the trial. You take opportunities where they come, or you lose."

Noah grumbled something under his breath, but he didn't argue. He just tightened his grip on his blades and followed, his footsteps careful on the uneven ground.

The further they went, the more unsettling the cave became.

Lila stopped again and knelt, her sharp gaze sweeping the walls and the ground. "This place… It's lived in."

"What do you mean?"

"Look." She gestured to the dirt and stone. "The ground's been disturbed—dragged, not naturally eroded. And there's…stuff in the corners."

Noah followed her gaze and spotted it. Piles of discarded bones—small ones, broken and old. Some looked animal; others were too decayed to identify.

"Could be food," Lila muttered. "Whatever lives here, it's storing kills."

"Yeah, well, I think we're making a mistake," Noah said quickly, his nerves creeping higher. He shifted his stance, blades at the ready. "We're in its territory, Lila. You know, isolated, surrounded, and—"

Before he could finish, a soft ping echoed in the silence.

Both of them froze.

Their bracelets buzzed faintly, and when they glanced at the holographic display, a notification blinked into view.

[Kill registered. +1 Point.]

For a brief second, neither of them spoke.

Noah blinked. "Well…at least Cora and Kelvin are doing something."

Lila stood, brushing dust off her knees. "That's one. Let's get another."

"Or let's not," Noah muttered as he followed her deeper into the cave.

The blood trail grew fainter, though the space around them remained unnervingly normal. Smooth walls, damp air, nothing out of place—no signs of an ambush or attack. It felt too quiet, too calm.

Noah's skin prickled as they moved further. "Something's off. I don't like this."

"Relax," Lila whispered back. "If it's here, we'll find it first."

They reached a wider chamber where the walls curved upward like the inside of a dome. Before either of them could say anything, a deep rumble shuddered through the air.

Both of them spun around, weapons raised.

Nothing.

Noah scanned the shadows, heart thumping in his chest. "Did you hear that?"

"Yes," Lila said, her voice tight. "Stay focused."

Another rumble. This time, it was closer.

Then it came.

A low rumble shook the ground beneath them. Dust trembled off the cave walls.

Noah and Lila spun around, blades drawn. "What was that?" Noah hissed.

Silence.

Nothing.

Noah's heart pounded. He took a tentative step backward. "Maybe we should—"

It hit them without warning.

From the darkness, something massive barreled forward—huge, black, and impossibly fast. Noah barely had time to drop into a crouch as the thing charged, its sheer size blocking the mouth of the inner cave in an instant. Lila dove sideways, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the creature's bulk. It skidded to a halt with a guttural growl, its form finally illuminated.

The beast loomed before them, and while it was like a bear, in no way was it a bear. Its hunched frame was broad and dense, covered in dark gray skin that looked more like rock than flesh—tough, cracked, and layered, as if the very earth had forged its hide. Jagged spikes jutted from its spine, irregular and sharp, like crude obsidian spears waiting to impale anything foolish enough to approach. Its forelimbs were monstrous, almost grotesquely muscular, ending in claws so massive they looked capable of splitting boulders with a swipe.

Its head was a distorted parody of a bear's—broad and blunt but far more sinister, with glowing red eyes that burned like twin embers set deep into its skull. Its mouth opened, revealing uneven rows of blackened teeth, stained and sharp, and as it exhaled, the air was thick with the smell of blood and something ancient.

It let out a deep, bone-vibrating growl that reverberated through the cave walls, shaking loose a fine layer of dust. The sound alone was enough to freeze Noah where he stood.

Noah's stomach turned. That thing had almost taken his head off.

"Okay, we kill it. No question," he rasped, lifting his blades.

A ping.

Noah froze.

Noah's heart pounded as his eyes flicked back to his bracelet. He expected another kill notification, but instead, the words that flashed on the screen made his stomach drop.

[Category 3 Beast Detected: Stoneback Behemoth]

Stoneback Behemoth.

The name alone was enough to freeze his blood. He knew it wasn't something they could just brush off. This wasn't some run-of-the-mill creature. This was something far deadlier, far more dangerous.

"What the hell is a Category 3 doing here?" Noah's voice was tight, every muscle in his body coiled in response to the mounting pressure.

Lila's expression remained unreadable as she rose with her now unsheathed weapon. The weapon as it turned out all along was a scythe that she held ominously in her grip, its curved blade catching the light with a deadly glow. "Doesn't matter, let's make a break for it. It's a category 3, way beyond our capacity,"

"Lila, we can't outrun it. Besides it's blocking the entrance." Noah said, his voice calm but firm. He glanced at the beast. "It's too fast, and we're in its territory. Running would only get us killed faster. Our best chance is to fight."

Lila's eyes narrowed at him, a conflicted look flashing across her face. She looked back at the Stoneback Behemoth, then at Noah, before shaking her head. "You're not hearing me, Noah. Fighting it? That's a death sentence."

Noah stood firm, his eyes unwavering as he watched the Stoneback Behemoth inch closer, its massive body rippling with raw strength. "I'd rather fight it than die running."

Lila stared at him, her eyes flicking back to the beast, then to Noah. The beast's rumbling growl vibrated through the cave, and for a moment, Noah thought she might back down. But then, with a sudden resolve, she nodded, a grim determination in her voice.

"Alright, fine. But if we're doing this, we need to hit hard, and we need to do it fast."

Noah's gaze hardened as he stepped forward. "Then let's make it count."

...

Lila's sharp eyes scanned the Stoneback Behemoth, her gaze dissecting every inch of the grotesque creature. Its massive form loomed over them like a nightmare given flesh—a twisted parody of a bear, monstrous and foreboding. But despite its terrifying presence, Lila focused on what mattered. Teeth and claws.

Its primary weapons were obvious. Jagged, bone-like claws that could tear through stone, and a mouth bristling with teeth that looked like crude blades. Those were the threats.

Lila's voice was cold and methodical as she muttered just loud enough for Noah to hear. "Teeth and claws—it doesn't seem to rely on much else." Her gloved hands tightened around the shaft of her scythe. "We avoid those. That's step one."

Noah stood nearby, his shoulders tense, though his eyes were alive with focus. He didn't flinch under the creature's roars, even as the cave walls trembled in response. Lila continued, her tone unwavering. "Category 3 beasts are a different breed, Noah. That scythe of mine?" She twirled it once for emphasis. "Level one. Made for handling Category 1s, maybe a weak 2 on a good day. This thing?" She gestured at the Behemoth with her chin. "It's a whole other level."

'She's calm… too calm,' Noah thought, forcing his own breathing to steady. His mind raced. Lila might be more experienced, but even she knew they were punching well above their weight. A Category 3 wasn't just big or dangerous—it was smart. Noah's gaze flickered to the creature's hulking torso. The thick plating, the rippling muscles beneath… getting through that would be hell.

As if reading his thoughts, Lila spoke again. "It'll guard its core like its life depends on it—and it does. We get through that armor, or we don't walk out of here. Simple as that."

She glanced at Noah. "But we need to find the weak spot first. Most beasts leave themselves open somewhere—an opening, a delay. We hope it doesn't have a surprise attack waiting for us."

'And if it does?' Noah pushed that thought away. He couldn't afford to think about failure. His pulse hammered in his ears as he ran a quick assessment in his head.

He raised his voice just enough to cut through the tension. "I'll take point. Lila—you hit from the rear."

Lila arched a brow at him but didn't argue. Her smirk was faint but approving. "You're the boss, Noah. Just don't get eaten."

Noah nodded, his mind settling into a calm rhythm. Teeth and claws. Avoid them. Get to the core.

He crouched, muscles coiled, ready to sprint. "Coordinates locked. Let's move."

The two launched forward, boots pounding against the cave floor. The air seemed to crackle with tension as they closed the distance, the Stoneback Behemoth's guttural growl echoing like thunder.

Noah led the charge, zigzagging to keep the beast's attention on him. Every movement was calculated; every step placed with precision. He could feel the Behemoth's feral eyes tracking him, the claws already preparing to swipe.

'Keep moving. Keep breathing. Focus.'

From the corner of his vision, Lila swept wide, her scythe gleaming with deadly intent.

The Stoneback Behemoth roared, its monstrous form shifting, and the battle began.

Noah gripped his twin blades so tightly his knuckles went white. For a fleeting second, a ridiculous idea hit him 'What if I threw one at its eye?'

But reality kicked back in just as fast. 'Yeah, sure. And what if I miss? Then I will be down a weapon and the bastard still breathing down my neck,' Risk had its place, but this wasn't a video game where he could hit restart, adjust his strategy, and try again. This was life or death, and Noah liked being alive.

The Stoneback Behemoth made the first move. It slashed down, claws screaming through the air like knives.

'Shit!' Noah ducked low, instincts kicking in as his body slid across the dirt floor in a scrape of boots and grit. He twisted mid-slide, blades flashing as he got within striking distance. With every ounce of strength, he slashed both weapons into the Behemoth's side's one for good measure.

Nothing.

It felt like smacking wood with a blunt machete. Zero damage. Noah's heart sank. 'This thing's hide is tougher than it looks,' He barely had a second to process before the beast roared, twisting its massive frame. Noah's stomach dropped as its jaws snapped down toward him, teeth gleaming like bloody daggers.

'Move, move, move!' Noah threw himself into a roll, skidding out just in time to avoid becoming lunch. He wasn't faster than the beast so no way could he outspeed a Category 3 monstrosity like this but his instincts were sharp. They had to be. Growing up in the barracks, he'd spent too many years scrapping with other kids in the dirt. No formal training. Just raw fights, bruises, and survival. Enough to give him a fighting chance, but not enough to win against this thing alone.

'It's fine,' he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone.'We've got this,'

A blur of motion caught his eyes. Lila. She was fast, scythe glinting as she moved in from behind. Noah couldn't help but notice how she swung despite the... "physical challenges" that came with those huge boobs in front of her. They most be acting as natural wind breakers or something. The thought earned a crooked smirk. 'Huge racks and huge weapons? Physics doesn't even apply to her'

But there wasn't time to admire. Lila's scythe hit the Behemoth's stone-like back with a sickening clang, reverberating through the cave. The beast barely flinched, and Noah winced when he saw her grit her teeth in frustration.

Meanwhile, he wasn't faring much better. The Behemoth's claws swept toward his chest with terrifying speed. 'Not happening!' Noah darted back, nearly tripping as dirt flew up around him.

The beast locked onto him like a predator with fresh prey.

'This taking point thing sucks,' Noah thought as he sprinted, the Behemoth close on his heels.

Noah's boots skidded across the cave floor as the beast lunged, its guttural growl reverberating off the walls like the prelude to an avalanche. He spun and darted to the side, but there was nowhere left to run. The cold stone of the cave wall pressed against his back, leaving him boxed in as the Stoneback Behemoth bore down on him.

'This is it. Game over,' Noah thought, hands gripping his twin blades so tightly his knuckles went white. He was out of options, out of space, and—he was willing to bet—Lila was running out of time.

Suddenly, a streak of motion flashed in the corner of his vision.

Lila.

She came from behind the beast, her scythe swinging in a brutal arc. This time, she aimed differently—at the joint near its hind leg. The blade sang as it struck, cutting a shallow gouge into the beast's hardened hide. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

The Stoneback Behemoth turned on her with a roar that rattled the air. Its monstrous frame surged forward, and Lila braced, planting her feet firmly. As it lunged, she raised her scythe across her body like a shield, and the beast's jaws clamped down, the blade sinking between its teeth. The force of the bite dragged her along with it, her boots scraping furrows into the dirt as the beast swung its head to the side. Lila's body snapped through the air before she hit the cave floor, rolling to a stop.

Noah froze for a heartbeat. Watching.

'It'll kill her. It's going to kill her, and it'll be on me.'

Adrenaline exploded in his chest. He didn't think—he just moved. Sprinting toward the beast with a snarl, he ducked low as its attention fixated on Lila. His mind raced through options.

'Underbelly? Already tried—nothing but wasted effort. The core? Out of reach. But the eyes—'

The idea clicked into place as his gaze darted toward the beast's massive head. Those gleaming, predatory eyes looked like they could be vulnerable. He just needed to get a clean strike. But getting close enough for that?

The beast suddenly roared again, slashing at Lila as she struggled to her feet. She was tough, but even Noah could see she was faltering. Her body language was tight, movements slower. And then—her eyes flared green.

Noah stumbled mid-step, stunned. The rocks scattered around the cave began to shiver. Then, as if some invisible force snapped into existence, they shot toward the beast with incredible speed, slicing through the air like bullets.

'Telekinesis. Right. Forgot she could do that.'

The rocks struck the Stoneback Behemoth with relentless force. The beast bellowed, momentarily disoriented as the sharp debris pelted its face, flanks, and legs. Noah stopped dead in his tracks. Going in now would be suicide—those projectiles didn't discriminate.

Lila's focus held the barrage steady, her face twisted in grim determination, until—

A single claw slashed across her arm. Her concentration shattered. Her eyes flickered back to normal, and she staggered. The beast capitalized immediately, its jaws snapping down and catching her hand, yanking her off balance. Her weapon fell, skidding out of reach.

Noah felt a cold spike of panic shoot through his chest.

'Shit, she's done for. Think, Noah. THINK.'

His mind swirled with desperation. His blades were useless. His power—

His power.

Noah's head snapped toward the cave entrance. Without warning, he bolted.

Behind him, Lila managed to look up. Her face fell as realization hit.

"You coward," she whispered. It wasn't anger. Just quiet resignation.

But Noah didn't stop. He ran, chest pounding, feet slamming against the ground. Just when it looked like he might escape entirely, he skidded to a halt near the cave's inner exit. He turned around, fists clenching as his throat vibrated with something raw, primal.

His mouth glowed faintly purple.

"Rarrrrrghhhhh!!!"

The sound that erupted from him was monstrous, so perfectly replicated it sent chills down his own spine. The Stoneback Behemoth froze mid-motion, its massive head swiveling toward him.

Noah's heart thundered as the beast began to stalk toward him, claws dragging through the earth with a screeching scrape. Lila, still on her knees, gaped at him.

'What the hell are you doing, you idiot?' she thought. But Noah didn't stop.

"Rarrrrrghhhhh!!!" he roared again, his voice echoing even louder this time. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the beast picked up its pace, drawn to the sound like a moth to flame. Noah stepped back, leading it away from Lila and deeper into the open area of the cavern where the terrain widened into three separate tunnels.

'Come on, ugly. Follow me,' Noah thought, forcing his breathing to steady. The beast's attention locked onto him, its slow, deliberate movements intensifying with every echo of his voice.

"Rarrrrrghhhhh!!!"

The third roar blasted through the cavern. Only—this time, it wasn't Noah.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. The bracelet on his arm buzzed with a chilling notification.

[Level 3 beast detected]

[Alpha Stoneback Behemoth]

Noah's face paled.

"…Just fuck me," he muttered under his breath as another deafening roar thundered through the cavern.

The sound came from one of the tunnels.

'There's two of them?'

The cave rumbled, shadows shifting as the second beast's massive silhouette emerged from the darkness.

Noah let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening on his blades.

"This day just keeps getting better."

...

The Alpha Stoneback Behemoth's roar rumbled like an earthquake, sending pebbles cascading from the cavern ceiling. It stood at the entrance, its bulk blocking most of the light. Red eyes burned with predatory intelligence, while jagged spikes along its back pulsed faintly like molten rock.

Noah's stomach tightened. The smaller Behemoth had already proven to be a nightmare, but this? This was in a different league.

"Move!" Noah hissed at Lila, pulling her toward the crevice.

The smaller Behemoth lunged forward, claws scraping at the ground as it pursued them, while the Alpha hung back, pacing just outside the tunnel's entrance.

'It's waiting. Letting the small one do the dirty work,' Noah realized. His mind raced. 'It's not just brute force; it's strategy. Great. Just what we needed.'

The narrow passage ahead loomed, jagged walls curving into a tight bottleneck.

"Get in!" Noah shouted, shoving Lila forward.

She stumbled but obeyed, squeezing into the crevice just as the smaller Behemoth lunged again. Noah barely ducked, the beast's claws slashing the air above him.

The tight tunnel slowed the creature, forcing it to hunch and scrape through. Behind it, the Alpha snarled in frustration, unable to follow.

'Perfect,' Noah thought. 'At least we don't have two of them on our asses. For now.'

The smaller Behemoth was relentless, its bulk grinding against the walls as it pressed forward. Noah's blades wouldn't penetrate its armor; he'd already seen them glance off like water on stone. But armor had gaps. Weak spots. He just needed to find one.

"Lila," he said, his voice low but urgent. "We can't kill this thing outright, not with what we've got. But we can cripple it."

She grimaced, clutching her scythe. "What's the plan?"

Noah's eyes darted to the uneven walls of the tunnel. The stone was loose in places, fractured by years of seismic activity.

"We bring the tunnel down on it," he said.

Lila's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"No better option," he replied, already scanning for weak points.

The Behemoth lunged again, its claws swiping inches from Lila's legs. She barely managed to pull back in time.

"Keep it distracted!" Noah barked.

Lila didn't hesitate. She swung her scythe at the creature, the blade sparking against its armored snout. The strike didn't injure it, but it bought Noah precious seconds.

He climbed up the side of the crevice, using the jagged rock as handholds. His eyes locked onto a precarious overhang above the Behemoth—a cluster of fractured stone held together by sheer stubbornness.

'That'll do,' he thought grimly.

The Behemoth roared, snapping at Lila again. She stumbled, her scythe slipping from her grasp.

"Any time now, Noah!" she shouted.

"I'm working on it!" he snapped back, wedging his blade into a crack in the rock. He gritted his teeth and heaved, the metal screeching as it pried the stone loose.

The Behemoth lunged forward again, forcing Lila to retreat further into the tunnel.

"Just a little more…" Noah muttered, sweat dripping down his face. He gave the blade one final shove, and the overhang gave way.

A cascade of boulders crashed down onto the Behemoth, pinning its legs and crushing part of its back. Lila was able to move away in time. The creature roared in pain, thrashing violently, but it couldn't move.

Noah dropped back down, landing awkwardly but upright. He grabbed Lila, pulling her to her feet.

"It's not dead," she said, her voice trembling.

"No, but it's not going anywhere either," Noah replied, his tone grim.

The Alpha's roar echoed from the tunnel entrance, louder and more furious than before.

"We need to keep moving," Noah said. "The big guy's not going to wait forever."

Lila nodded, picking up her scythe. Together, they retreated further into the tunnel, the sound of the Alpha's heavy footsteps growing louder behind them.

***

The interior of the military-grade airship was quite the contrast to the chaos unfolding below in the hunting grounds.

Rows of monitors lined the walls, each glowing softly with data streams projected in crisp, high-resolution detail before the teachers. The hum of the engines was a low, constant vibration beneath their feet, occasionally punctuated by faint beeps from the consoles. This was no luxurious aircraft, but its practicality exuded a certain charm. The seats were ergonomic, molded for long hours of use, and the walls bore faint scratches and scuffs from countless missions.

Miss Brooks sat closest to the main console, her eyes locked onto the data from her students' bracelets. The screen reflected off her glasses, every pulse, every spike in anxiety, every drop in blood oxygen levels was cataloged in real time on her screen. Her slim fingers tapped her armrest rhythmically, a barely perceptible sign of her unease. Her appearance at first glance was one of perfection, yet her posture betrayed tension.

'Steady,' she reminded herself. 'They're doing fine. No fatalities. No critical alerts. Just nerves. They can handle this.'

Her gaze drifted to one particular subgroup in Class 1B. Their vitals were erratic—skyrocketing stress levels, bursts of adrenaline, and a fluctuating heart rate that screamed trouble. She clenched her jaw, her mind racing through the possibilities.

'Are they being hunted? Did they bite off more than they could chew?' The system didn't offer a live feed, no real information with regards to what was happening on the field where the students were such as the beast they fought or what category it was in. This was a deliberate program to deter teachers or instructors from interfering directly with on field decisions. After all, the whole point of field trials was to gauge not just their mettle but also decision making.

So the whole bracelet system only offered cold numbers and sterile graphs, but even that was enough to conjure a vivid mental image of her students out there, struggling to survive.

Sitting beside her was Mr. Vane, the homeroom teacher for Class 1A, who seemed entirely unfazed by the tension in the air. His chair reclined slightly, his arms folded across his chest. A smirk played on his lips as his eyes flitted between the screens. Unlike Brooks, who wore her concern like armor, Vane radiated smug satisfaction. His hair was styled back, not a strand out of place, and his tie stood out like a splash of confidence in the otherwise muted tones of the craft.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Vane's voice cut through the quiet hum of the airship. His tone was almost theatrical, dripping with self-satisfaction. "Class 1A—already at the top of the leaderboard. My kids are a work of art. See that? Precision teamwork, efficiency, and results. What more could you ask for?"

Miss Brooks didn't bother looking at him, but her lips tightened.

Rourke, on the other hand, snorted from his corner of the craft. The Class 1C homeroom teacher was a mountain of a man, broad-shouldered and perpetually disheveled. His coat hung loosely around him, one button perpetually undone, and his tie had long since been relegated to his pocket. His gruff voice alone told stories of a man who'd seen it all and cared very little about impressing anyone.

"Results, huh? I've got results too," Rourke drawled, leaning back in his seat. "See? No major spikes, no stress alerts. My kids are smooth as butter out there."

Vane rolled his eyes. "Smooth as butter? Or lazy as rocks? Come on, Rourke, we both know your class's idea of teamwork is seeing who can nap the longest."

Rourke shrugged, unbothered. "Say what you want. They're not dead, and that's a win in my book. Besides, I'm not the one making condolence calls to parents this year."

Vane chuckled, shaking his head. "Low bar you've set for yourself there, old man."

Brooks cut in, her voice sharp. "Enough. This isn't a contest between us. The kids are the ones out there risking their necks."

"Risking their necks?" Vane arched an eyebrow. "My class is thriving, Brooks. They're proving their worth. Yours, on the other hand…" His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.

Brooks turned to him, her expression icy. "My class is holding their own. Maybe not at the top, but they're fighting, learning, and growing. That's what this assessment is about—not your ego."

Rourke let out a low whistle. "She's got you there, Vane."

Vane's smirk faltered, but only slightly. "You'll see. When the scores come in, Class 1A will stand tall, as always."

Brooks turned back to her screen, refusing to engage further. Her attention lingered on the subgroup she'd been monitoring. 'Come on, kids. Prove me right. Show me you've got what it takes.'

As time went on, data scrolled across the monitors in steady streams—heart rates, oxygen levels, stress markers. Every beep and pulse felt like a lifeline, a fragile thread connecting them to the chaos on the ground. Every teacher had different thoughts going through their minds.

Rourke leaned forward slightly, squinting at his screen. His students' vitals were almost eerily consistent. No spikes, no crashes, just an even rhythm.

'Either they're pulling off a miracle,' he thought, scratching his stubble, 'or they're up to something. Knowing 1C, it's probably the latter.'

He couldn't help but grin. Rourke didn't have illusions about his class. They were the bad eggs, the troublemakers, the kids no one wanted to deal with. But they were also survivors, scrappy and resourceful in ways that couldn't be taught.

"Hope you're not making me regret defending you lot," he muttered under his breath.

Meanwhile, Vane's eyes sparkled as he tracked his class's progress. Every stat on the screen screamed dominance—low anxiety, high efficiency, consistent performance.

"Textbook execution," he murmured to himself, then louder: "Brooks, you might want to take notes. My kids are rewriting the manual on how to succeed out there."

Brooks didn't even glance at him. Her focus remained unshaken, her thoughts consumed by her struggling subgroup.

'They're better than this,' she thought. 'They have to be,"