Itoyea turned back sharply as the deafening vibrations rippled through the dungeon, the tremor running through stone, root, and bone alike. The very air quivered, carrying with it a distant pressure that made his ears ring for half a second longer than they should have.
That explosion wasn't normal.
His jaw tightened.
Itekan…
You better not lose.
He forced his breathing to steady, pushing down the instinct to stop, to turn back, to run toward that sound no matter what lay ahead.
I'll win on these grounds, he promised silently. So hold on. Just hold on.
There was no turning back now. Not with the distance already covered, not with the risk already taken.
Just ahead, partially obscured by the natural curves of the dungeon terrain and clusters of jagged stone, lay the Rangers Academy base. According to Senior Bukanami's earlier assessment, they still hadn't been detected.
If they continued at this pace—careful, controlled, deliberate—they could still launch a surprise attack.
Itoyea clenched his teeth.
His pride rebelled at the idea. Attacking from the shadows, striking from behind—it went against everything drilled into him as a swordsman. A fight was meant to be faced head-on, blade to blade, intent laid bare.
But this wasn't just his battle.
Lives, advancement, and the outcome of the round rested on this decision. He couldn't afford unreasonable demands born from ego.
Letting out a slow breath, he released those useless thoughts. Doubt, hesitation, pride—they would only dull his edge now.
What he needed was precision.
What he needed was speed.
And just as Bukanami had predicted, it wasn't long before they reached effective range.
They slowed to a halt almost instinctively, both men slipping into observation rather than movement.
Within the Rangers Academy base, two dark-skinned second-year trainees stood at the forefront of the safe zone. Their posture was disciplined, alert—shields, not merely by role, but by demeanor.
Behind them, seated within the protected circle, was their king.
A woman about Bukanami's age, holding a short sword loosely across her lap.
Her expression was conflicted.
Her eyes were closed.
Her lips moved faintly, muttering words too low to hear from this distance.
Itoyea frowned.
He didn't know what she was doing—but whatever it was, he felt certain it wasn't good.
Bukanami, however, recognized the tension immediately.
In the five months since he, Tobi, and Konacho had crossed paths with Itekan and Itoyea back in the Red Dungeon beneath Four Stars Academy, they had traveled far and wide. Their search for information regarding the Golden Leaf Snake had taken them across borders, into places trainees were never meant to tread.
Along the way, they had uncovered fragments of something far larger.
Fragments that now surfaced in his mind as he stared at the woman within the Rangers' circle.
During their travels, Bukanami and his team had accepted work as guards for a shipment bound for Frussia. It was an unusual job—Frussia rarely dealt with the rest of the continent—but desperation and rumors had driven them to accept.
They had been low on funds.
And the rumor had been… compelling.
That the Golden Leaf Snake had intercepted and destroyed a cross-state shipment originating from Frussia.
So they went.
To the southernmost reaches of the continent.
To Frussia itself.
There, through merchants and hired mercenaries, through whispered conversations and guarded glances, they'd learned what they needed.
And it was there that Bukanami had first heard her name spoken with equal parts fear and reverence.
The 'king' of Rangers Academy.
Karen Dīskūnshīk.
She was, like him, a second-year trainee.
But the similarities ended there.
Rumor had it that at the age of eight, she had slaughtered an entire band of highway bandits who had attempted to rob her family's carriage.
At ten, she had been selected as one of the Supreme Rulers of Frussia's Ten Guards—standing shoulder to shoulder with Shzekcl himself.
By fourteen, she had participated in—and survived—two full military campaigns against a minor bordering nation called Hungrrei.
During that war, she and Shzekcl had earned their battlefield epithets.
One for Fifty.
One for Hundred.
Not exaggerations.
Tallies.
It was said that during those campaigns, she was the only person Shzekcl ever trusted to guard his back.
Even now, two years removed from the war, at sixteen, Karen Dīskūnshīk remained the undisputed strongest female trainee in the history of Frussia's Rangers Academy.
That was why Shzekcl had entrusted his base to her.
Not because of rank.
Not because of duty.
But because she was the only one he had ever trusted without reservation.
Karen Dīskūnshīk opened her eyes slowly.
What she saw did not make sense.
There was no world in which Shzekcl surrendered.
Not to a first-year.
Not ever.
Her perception expanded outward, her awareness sweeping across the Rangers Academy base and beyond. She replayed the moment she'd heard the distant explosion—the moment she'd shifted her focus entirely to his fight.
She'd lost sight of the two intruders then.
Stealth users.
Troublesome.
Especially the swordsman.
She had seen his battle with the ice wielder. Impressive, undeniably so. Controlled aggression. Ruthless precision.
Still, she was confident she could defeat him.
The other one was harder to place.
A wildcard.
He hadn't gone all out during his fight with the card user, which made him dangerous in a different way.
Even so, Karen remained calm.
She didn't need to win quickly.
She only needed to last long enough to figure out how.
She just had to find them.
---
Meanwhile…
Itoyea listened quietly as Bukanami relayed everything he knew.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough.
Enough to confirm that the woman ahead was not someone to be underestimated.
Still… she wasn't Sir Bellingham.
That was the standard now.
After fighting him at the cost of his leg, something inside Itoyea had changed permanently. The numbness that followed had stripped away false fear, false reverence.
He had seen power.
True power.
He had fought it.
And he had lost.
That loss had carved something into him deeper than flesh.
It reaffirmed his resolve.
Clarified his path.
Now he understood.
If he was to achieve his goal—to wipe every demonic beast from the continent—then strength was not optional.
It was mandatory.
Everything else…
Every hesitation, every distraction, every name and reputation in between—
Was beneath him.
.
.
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