The training grounds were nearly empty by the time Team 7 gathered the next afternoon. Most students had finished their classes and retreated to dorms or recreational facilities, leaving the vast field open for Leon, Kai, Seria, and Marcus to practice in peace.
Marcus Chen arrived first, his D-rank Earth Golem lumbering behind him like a walking boulder. Up close, the Golem was impressive—roughly six feet tall, its body composed of interlocking stone plates that shifted with surprising fluidity.
"Good, you're early," Marcus said when Leon approached. His voice was deeper than expected, matching his stocky build. "I value punctuality. Shows discipline."
"Thanks for organizing this," Leon replied, Jörmungandr coiled around his arm. The snake had been unusually active all day, as if excited about something. "I've never done a dungeon raid before."
"Neither have most of us. That's why practice matters." Marcus crossed his arms, studying Leon's snake with analytical eyes. "F-rank, right? What are its capabilities?"
"Bite and Constrict, according to the system. Though it seems stronger than expected."
"Stronger how?"
Before Leon could elaborate, Seria arrived with her Holy Unicorn—Lumina—trotting beside her. The miniaturized unicorn had returned to full size for training, standing about four feet at the shoulder, her white coat gleaming like pearl.
"Sorry I'm late!" Seria called out cheerfully. "Professor Martinez held me back to discuss some theory questions."
"You're fine. We're still waiting on Kai," Marcus said.
As if summoned, Kai jogged onto the field, Fenrir running alongside him. The Divine Wolf had grown slightly since the Taming Ceremony—not dramatically, but enough to notice. His grey fur had developed a subtle blue sheen, and his eyes carried an intensity that suggested awakening power.
"Everyone's here. Good." Marcus pulled out a tablet. "I've been researching F-Gate dungeon layouts. Standard composition: twenty to thirty rooms, mostly small chambers connected by corridors. Monster density averages three to five per room, ranks E to F with occasional D-rank if we're unlucky."
He projected a holographic map into the air between them. "Typical monsters include Goblins, Slimes, Dire Rats, and Poisonous Spiders. Nothing we can't handle if we work together."
Leon studied the map, memories of the novel flooding back. In chapter 8, Kai's team had encountered all those monsters, plus an unexpected Hobgoblin—a C-rank that shouldn't have been there. The fight had been intense but ultimately served to showcase Kai's tactical thinking and growing bond with Fenrir.
Will that still happen? Leon wondered. Or has my presence changed even that?
[Timeline Deviation: 19.3%]
The percentage hadn't increased overnight. Small comfort.
"Formation-wise," Marcus continued, "I suggest Kai and Fenrir take point. They're fast and can handle close combat. Seria and Lumina provide mid-range support with healing and light attacks. Leon..." he paused, clearly uncertain. "What's your combat style?"
All eyes turned to Leon. He'd been dreading this question.
"Support, I guess? Jörmungandr isn't built for frontline combat. We work best picking off isolated targets or reinforcing positions."
"Can your snake handle E-rank monsters?" Kai asked, no judgment in his tone—just genuine curiosity.
"Based on training,yes. Maybe even D-rank, though I haven't tested it."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Alright. You and your snake focus on flanking and opportunistic strikes. If Kai gets overwhelmed, you assist. If monsters break through to Seria, you intercept. Think you can handle that?"
"I can try."
"Trying isn't good enough in a dungeon. People die from hesitation." Marcus's expression was serious but not unkind. "I need to know—if things go wrong, if we're in danger, will you act? Or will you freeze?"
The question hung heavy in the air. Leon understood what Marcus was really asking: Can we trust you?
"I'll act," Leon said firmly. "I won't let anyone get hurt if I can prevent it."
Marcus held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Good enough. Let's run some drills."
The next two hours were exhausting. Marcus had them practice basic formations—advance, retreat, defensive circles. Seria's Lumina could project barriers of light that provided temporary protection. Kai's Fenrir excelled at hit-and-run tactics, darting in to strike before withdrawing. Marcus's Golem served as an immovable wall, able to absorb tremendous punishment.
And Jörmungandr...
Leon's snake continued to surprise everyone. During a drill where they practiced responding to ambushes, Jörmungandr detected the "threat"—Marcus sneaking around with his Golem—before anyone else noticed. The snake's body tensed, head snapping toward the danger a full three seconds before Fenrir picked up the scent.
"How did it know?" Marcus asked, genuinely puzzled. "My Golem makes almost no sound, and we were downwind."
"I don't know," Leon admitted. "It's like it senses things beyond normal perception."
Seria knelt down to examine Jörmungandr more closely. The snake regarded her calmly, showing none of the wariness most monsters displayed around unfamiliar people.
"May I?" Seria asked, extending her hand.
Leon nodded, curious about what she was doing.
Seria placed her palm near Jörmungandr's head, and Lumina stepped closer, her horn beginning to glow softly. The unicorn's light washed over the snake, and for a moment, the faint golden patterns in Jörmungandr's scales became more visible—intricate designs that seemed to pulse with their own internal rhythm.
Seria gasped. "Leon, your snake isn't normal F-rank. Look at its mana structure."
She gestured, and Lumina's light intensified slightly, revealing something Leon had never noticed before. Around Jörmungandr, barely visible even with the unicorn's enhancement, was a network of energy channels far more complex than any F-rank monster should possess.
"Most F-rank monsters have simple mana pathways," Seria explained, her voice filled with wonder. "Maybe ten to fifteen channels. But your snake has, I can't even count them all. Dozens? Hundreds? It's like looking at an A-rank's mana structure compressed into an F-rank body."
Kai moved closer, Fenrir beside him. "Could it be a mutation?"
"Maybe, but mutations are usually visible—extra limbs, unusual coloring, that sort of thing. This is internal. Fundamental." Seria looked up at Leon. "Where did you say you got Jörmungandr?"
"The Taming Ceremony. Same as everyone else."
"But the summoning circle pulls from the ambient monster population. If something this unusual appeared..." Seria trailed off, thinking. "Either it was incredibly rare luck, or something about your spiritual signature called to it specifically."
Marcus crossed his arms. "Does this change anything for the dungeon raid?"
"I don't think so," Seria said slowly. "Jörmungandr is still effectively F-rank in terms of raw power output. But it might explain why it performs above expectations." She smiled at Leon. "You might have gotten very lucky."
Lucky, Leon thought. Right. Nothing about this reincarnation has been luck.
Jörmungandr slithered back up Leon's arm, settling around his shoulders. The snake's ruby eyes met his, and Leon could have sworn he saw amusement there.
"Let's continue," Marcus said. "We've wasted enough time on analysis. The dungeon won't care about mana structures—only whether we can fight effectively."
They resumed training. By the time the sun began setting, all four of them were exhausted—sweat-soaked and breathing hard. Even the monsters looked tired, Lumina's glow dimmed to barely perceptible light, Fenrir panting heavily, Marcus's Golem moving more slowly.
Only Jörmungandr seemed unaffected, alert and energetic as ever.
"Good session," Marcus declared, checking his tablet. "We're as ready as we can be. Friday's dungeon raid should be straightforward if we stick to the plan."
"Should be," Kai echoed with a wry smile. "Famous last words."
Seria laughed. "Always the optimist, Kai."
"Realist. There's a difference."
As they packed up and prepared to leave, Leon noticed someone watching from the edge of the training grounds. A familiar silhouette, platinum blonde hair catching the last rays of sunlight.
Angela Everhart stood with her Crimson Phoenix, observing them. How long had she been there? What had she seen?
Their eyes met across the distance. Angela's expression was unreadable—that perfect mask firmly in place. Then she turned and walked away, her Phoenix spreading its wings briefly before settling back on her shoulder.
"Was that Angela Everhart?" Seria asked, following Leon's gaze. "I didn't notice her arrive."
"She's probably just using the adjacent training area," Marcus said dismissively. "The elite students sometimes practice late."
But Leon knew better. Angela had been watching them. Watching him. The question was: why?
They grabbed dinner together at the cafeteria—another team bonding exercise that Marcus insisted upon. The meal was pleasant, filled with casual conversation about classes, monster care, and speculation about the upcoming dungeon raid.
Leon tried to stay engaged, but his mind kept drifting to Angela. Their conversation in the library yesterday had been... unexpected. Vulnerable. She'd shown him a side that didn't match her public persona, and now she was observing his training?
What is she thinking?
"Leon?" Seria's voice pulled him back to the present. "You okay? You've been spacing out."
"Sorry. Just tired."
"We all are," Kai said sympathetically. "Marcus runs a tough training session."
"Discipline saves lives," Marcus stated matter-of-factly, taking a bite of his meal. "Better exhausted now than dead in a dungeon."
"Cheerful," Seria teased.
After dinner, the group split up—Marcus heading to the library, Seria to her dorm, Kai to the training grounds for extra practice with Fenrir. Leon found himself walking alone back to his dorm, Jörmungandr coiled comfortably around his shoulders.
The academy at night was beautiful. Magical lanterns floated along pathways, casting warm light. Students clustered in small groups, talking and laughing. It felt peaceful, normal—everything Leon's situation wasn't.
"Leon Ashford."
He froze. That voice—cold, commanding, impossible to ignore.
Leon turned to find Angela standing behind him, having appeared from seemingly nowhere. Her Phoenix perched on her shoulder, flames casting dancing shadows across her face.
"We need to talk," Angela said. "Privately."
"About what?"
"Your snake. Your team. Your... intentions." Angela's ice-blue eyes were penetrating. "Follow me."
It wasn't a request.
Angela led him away from the main pathways, toward a quieter section of campus near the ornamental gardens. The area was deserted at this hour, only the sound of a fountain breaking the silence.
She stopped beneath a cherry blossom tree—imported from some distant region, out of season but blooming through magical enhancement. Petals drifted down like pink snow.
"I watched your training today," Angela said without preamble.
"I noticed."
"Your snake is not F-rank. Or rather, it is F-rank, but something else entirely." She crossed her arms. "Seria Moonlight's assessment was accurate but incomplete. What she saw was just the surface."
"What do you mean?"
Angela's Phoenix hopped down from her shoulder, moving closer to Jörmungandr. The two monsters regarded each other—the legendary Crimson Phoenix and the supposedly weak green snake.
"My Phoenix has an ability called 'True Sight,'" Angela explained. "It can perceive a monster's true nature beyond their surface rank. When it looks at your snake, do you know what it sees?"
Leon's mouth went dry. "What?"
"Nothing. Void. As if your snake's true nature is hidden behind something impenetrable." Angela's expression was intense. "The only time my Phoenix has ever encountered that is with SSS-rank monsters whose power is so vast it defies perception. Yet your snake is F-rank."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
"I'm saying your snake is either the weakest monster in existence or something so powerful it's concealing its true nature. And I want to know which." Angela stepped closer. "So I'll ask you again, Leon Ashford—what are you really after? What's your goal?"
Leon's mind raced. This was spiraling out of control. Angela was too perceptive, asking questions he couldn't honestly answer without revealing everything.
"I told you yesterday. Survival. And trying to help where I can."
"Inadequate answer." Angela's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something. I can see it in how you move, how you talk. You know things you shouldn't know. You act with purpose that suggests foreknowledge." She paused. "You remind me of someone trying to change a predetermined outcome."
Leon's heart hammered. She can't possibly know. That's impossible.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you?" Angela tilted her head slightly. "Let me tell you what I've observed. You helped Kai Ryusaki at the exact moment I was supposed to allow my companion to humiliate him. You returned my pin with an understanding of its significance that a stranger shouldn't possess. You spoke about my mother with certainty about what she'd want, despite never having met her. And now you're on a team with the protagonist and the heroine of what feels increasingly like a story I don't control."
She's figured it out. Not completely, but enough to be dangerous.
"You're reading too much into coincidences," Leon tried.
"I don't believe in coincidences. I believe in patterns, and you are disrupting patterns I didn't even know existed until you arrived." Angela's voice softened slightly. "So tell me the truth, Leon. Please. Are you trying to help me or hurt me?"
The question caught Leon off-guard. Not "what do you want" or "what are you hiding," but whether his intentions toward her were good or bad.
"Help," Leon said quietly. "I'm trying to help you."
"Why?"
"Because... because you deserve better than what you're heading toward."
Angela stared at him for a long moment. The fountain burbled nearby. Cherry blossoms continued their lazy descent. Her Phoenix and his Jörmungandr watched each other with unblinking intensity.
"You know something," Angela finally said. "About my future. Don't you?"
Leon couldn't answer. Any confirmation would raise more questions. Any denial would be an obvious lie.
"I'll take your silence as confirmation." Angela took a step back, her mask slipping back into place. "I don't know how you know. Prophecy, perhaps. Or some other explanation. But I'm going to be watching you, Leon Ashford. If you truly want to help me, you'll need to prove it. Words are cheap."
"How do I prove it?"
"By being there when it matters. By making choices that align with your stated intentions." Angela turned to leave, then paused. "One more thing. Your snake—Jörmungandr. That's an interesting name choice. The World Serpent. The one that brings about the end of everything."
"Or the one that could choose not to," Leon replied.
Angela glanced back at him, and for just a moment, her ice-blue eyes showed something other than cold calculation. Uncertainty? Hope?
"We'll see," she said. Then she was gone, her Phoenix flying beside her as she disappeared into the night.
Leon stood alone in the garden, his legs weak. Jörmungandr nuzzled against his neck—comforting or conspiratorial, he couldn't tell.
[System Notice][Timeline Deviation: 23.7%][CRITICAL: Angela Everhart Awareness Level - MAXIMUM][Warning: Subject has deduced Anomalous Knowledge][Unpredictable Behavior Probable][Recommendation: NONE - Situation Beyond Standard Parameters]
23.7%. Nearly a quarter deviation from the original timeline, and Angela now suspected he had knowledge he shouldn't possess.
Leon looked up at the night sky, stars visible despite the city lights. Somewhere up there, the author of this world's "story" might be watching, wondering why their carefully crafted plot was falling apart.
I'm sorry, Leon thought. But I can't let her die. Even if it means breaking everything.
Jörmungandr hissed softly, and Leon could swear it sounded like approval.
Tomorrow was Thursday. One more day until the dungeon raid. One more day until the timeline would deviate even further from its original course.
And Leon had no idea if he was saving Angela Everhart or condemning them all.