At last, Raym's spirits lifted after his conversation with Lance, and he went to rest—preparing himself for the day to come.
The long-awaited day.
Sharp noise. Massive crowds.An overwhelming presence filled the area—figures whose status alone commanded respect.
Three of the five Battalion Commanders had arrived.
Vile, Commander of the Third Battalion—stern, powerful, yet surprisingly fond of humor beneath his rigid appearance. Behind his composure lay a sincere heart and hidden kindness.Arvela, Commander of the Fifth Battalion—the only woman to ever reach such a high rank. Elegant and composed, with silky green hair that strangely and beautifully matched her mastery of the secondary Plant element.And finally, Irene, Commander of the Fourth Battalion—a calm strategist, a brilliant mind, and a man who always felt as though he was hiding something.
The atmosphere was imposing.Even with the absence of the Supreme Commander and the First and Second Battalion leaders, their presence alone was enough to silence the camp.
Vile stood at the forefront, his deep voice filled with pride.
"Warriors! The time has finally come for you to prove yourselves. You've reached an advanced stage… and now begins the real work. Not training—application. Reality."
The soldiers stirred.
"You will fight here, so we may see your true strength and experience. The divisions will be random."
And so they were.
Raym's opponent immediately caught everyone's attention.
A young, seasoned fighter—beautiful, elegant, refined, powerful, and fearless.The strongest member of the Fifth Battalion.
Lyra Niert.
Born into a strict family that honed warriors from childhood, a lineage known for wielding pure Lightning. Nearly everyone admired her—without exception.
Raym was no different.
From the moment he saw her, he felt it.
Her stance… it wasn't ordinary. Calm. Balanced. Perfect.
After several duels, it was finally Raym's turn.
Tension spread everywhere.
Everyone had already bet on Lyra.
What could one expect from someone with a "weak element"?
Lyra drew her sword confidently and looked down at Raym with disdain.
"Oh? Isn't this the elementless one?" she mocked."What did I do to deserve being paired with someone so insignificant? You won't survive even a single strike."
Raym steadied himself and said nothing.
He drew his sword and assumed a strange stance—neither purely defensive nor offensive.
Among the crowd, only Vile and Lance believed in him.
Lyra charged with absolute confidence.
Raym closed his eyes.
In a breathless instant—he vanished from her path and appeared behind her.
Gasps filled the arena.
Even Lyra froze.
Lance smiled. Vile's eyes narrowed.
Lyra recovered quickly, lightning surging as she dashed again—but Raym blocked her once more.
Shock rippled through her.
Her resolve wavered.
Raym countered with simple, precise strikes—each one forcing Lyra back with difficulty.
Gritting her teeth, she channeled lightning into her blade and lunged again.
This time, Raym felt real danger.
But he did not panic.
In a moment that froze time, he shifted fully into defense—blocked her attack, knocked her weapon away, and placed his sword at her throat.
Silence.
The scene crushed her pride.
Humiliation burned her face red.
Lyra stormed out of the arena without a word.
Then—applause.
Lance beamed with pride.
But Vile felt something else.
Something… strange.
As the sparring ended, the sun dipped low, revealing a pure golden thread of light—signaling a distant hope.
Perhaps a false one.
The camp emptied, leaving behind an eerie stillness—the kind that makes crowded places feel hauntingly empty.
The silent air carried unfamiliar melodies… like a warning.
Vile stood atop the camp with Arvela and Irene.
Arvela spoke quietly, sorrow in her voice.
"Don't you think this is meaningless? I feel guilty… the gap between us and them is too wide. We're sending them out to die."
Vile lowered his head, saying nothing.
She continued, her voice trembling.
"Do you know what happened to the last two scouting teams? We lost contact. I doubt any of them survived."
Vile closed his eyes.
Then—he felt it.
A strange, optimistic aura.
Something unfamiliar… yet comforting.
Hope.
His first and last.
Was it real?
Or just a lie he told himself to keep going?
"…Tomorrow," Vile finally said. "I'll investigate."
The next day, the soldiers gathered once more.
Vile announced that teams of six would be dispatched for a special kind of training.
"Real training," he said. "On the battlefield itself."
Murmurs erupted.
"Isn't this too soon?""The outside world is dangerous!""Do our lives mean nothing to you?!"
Vile raised his hand.
"You have every right to refuse. But this mission is necessary."
Silence followed.
Then shouts.
Some stormed off in anger. Others stayed.
Were they brave? Foolish? Or simply desperate to prove themselves?
It didn't matter.
There was no turning back.
At the front stood Raym—along with familiar faces: Lance… and Lyra.
Vile continued.
"You'll be divided into two teams. Raym, Lyra, Lance, and three others—under Arvela's command—to the far north. The second team will go with Irene."
Afterward, the teams would switch.
Anxiety filled the air.
Raym and Lance exchanged glances.
Arvela tried to reassure Lyra—without success.
Then Lyra met Raym's eyes.
Time froze.
Her expression changed.
Was it admiration?
Or a strange sense of reassurance?
She turned away sharply.
"If this weakling can do it… then so can I. There's no retreat now!"
Was the outside world truly as terrifying as they imagined?
Or had isolation twisted their fears into monsters?
Only one thing was certain.
From this moment on—
Nothing would ever be the same again.