NOVPUBThe gateway shimmered softly as the team emerged one by one, the ethereal glow of the mana-transition fading behind them.
The moment their boots touched the polished stone of the academy's central staging plaza, a subtle breeze swept past—cool, fresh, and so different from the heat-choked fog they had just left behind. The contrast was sharp enough to feel like a physical shift. Real space. Real ground.
And despite the ache in their limbs and the wear in their joints—there was a buzz among them.
Adrenaline hadn't quite faded yet.
"Well," Layla said first, adjusting her shoulder strap and exhaling hard, "that went way better than I thought it would."
Jasmine groaned, flexing her neck. "I still have no idea how you keep tanking that crap and walk out without falling over."
"Years of spite and training," Layla said with a smirk.
Irina stretched her arms, a faint sheen of sweat still on her brow, but her posture was unmistakably relaxed—confident. She'd landed the final blow, and she knew it. But it wasn't smugness. It was satisfaction. Controlled. Tempered.
Sylvie's voice was soft, but sincere. "Your spell... really was incredible."
Irina turned toward her, eyebrows arching slightly.
"I've seen it before," Sylvie continued, "but that precision, that compression—it wasn't just strong. It was elegant."
Jasmine let out a low whistle. "Yeah, that beam is insane. I don't even know how you manage to keep it that narrow without blowing yourself up."
Irina smirked slightly, rolling her shoulders. "Years of practice," she echoed Layla's earlier words, but there was something lighter in her tone this time. "And control blocks. And focus loops. And... maybe a little divine inspiration."
Sylvie chuckled faintly, while Jasmine shook her head. "No wonder the scouts are always talking about you."
Behind them, Astron said nothing—but his glance toward Irina held a subtle flicker of approval, just for a moment, before fading beneath his usual composed demeanor.
They stood there for a few seconds longer in silence, the relief settling in, their teamwork still fresh in their minds. No one had made a critical mistake. Every role had been played clean. The synergy was real.
"Hey," Layla said suddenly, brightening a little as she adjusted her gloves, "we just crushed a dungeon and didn't fall apart doing it. Don't you guys think we deserve something for that?"
Jasmine raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
"A meal," Layla said, grinning. "I'm starving."
Sylvie blinked, but nodded. "I could eat."
Irina shrugged, folding her arms. "I'm not saying no."
All eyes shifted to Astron. 𝚗𝚘v𝚙𝚞b.𝚌𝚘m
Astron's gaze swept across the group—taking in Layla's hopeful grin, Sylvie's quiet nod, Jasmine's raised brow. But it was when his eyes met Irina's that he paused.
She wasn't smiling.
But her golden eyes carried a certain weight. Expectation. Challenge. Maybe something else, just beneath the surface.
It wasn't demanding. It wasn't pushy.
It was… deliberate.
She was watching to see if he'd say no.
Astron held her gaze for a beat longer than necessary.
Then, quietly, without much inflection, he said, "Fine."
Layla blinked, eyebrows lifting slightly—not at Astron's answer, but at the unspoken exchange she'd just witnessed. She glanced from Astron to Irina, watching the way Irina's lips curled into a small, almost smug smile.
'...Seriously?' Layla thought. 'What's going on between those two?'
She didn't voice it.
Jasmine clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. "Perfect. I know a spot nearby—nothing fancy, but the food's hot and filling."
"I'm in," Layla said, stretching her arms overhead.
Sylvie gave a small smile. "Lead the way."
Irina fell into step beside Astron, her expression relaxed, that earlier fire subdued now into something quieter—self-satisfied. "See? Not so hard."
Astron didn't reply. But the corner of his mouth twitched. Barely.
And that was enough.
But at the same time, his eyes silently turned to the side.
Where he saw some gazes.
'I guess, it starts now.'
****
The restaurant was nestled beneath the outer ring of Arcadia's eastern faculty towers, tucked behind rows of stone-floored vendor stalls and low ornamental lanterns. The Hollow Hearth wasn't glamorous, but it was a favorite among cadets for one reason: no questions asked.
Warm lamplight flickered off brass-banded wood. The scent of roasted meat and herbs hung heavy in the air, and the low murmur of clinking utensils, quiet laughter, and exhausted chatter formed a familiar rhythm.
Team Fourteen occupied a corner booth near the rear.
Layla was halfway through her second helping of stew, leaning comfortably against the wall as she recounted the moment Vulkran's claw nearly took her head off. Jasmine was dramatizing her tail sweep to anyone who would listen—mostly Sylvie and the server. Irina nursed a glass of cooled citrus tonic, the same unreadable contentment still lingering in her gaze.
And Astron?
He sat at the edge of the booth, back to the wall, eyes scanning the room not out of habit—but because he already knew.
It didn't take long.
A shift in the room's atmosphere.
Not dramatic.
Not disruptive.
But controlled.
Calculated.
The first scout approached with the grace of someone who had walked the line between respect and ambition for years.
She was tall, sharply dressed in neutral hunter formal—gray coat with muted gold threading, her badge bearing the emblem of Cloudveil Reliquary, a mid-tier guild known for supporting rare-class talents and technical casters.
Irina saw her the moment she stepped through the threshold.
Not because of the coat.
Not even because of the badge.
But because of the intent.
The scout's movements weren't casual.
They were polished. Angled. Executed with the kind of restraint that only came from years in guild protocol halls — and from knowing precisely when not to smile.
Irina's golden eyes narrowed, just slightly. A shift in focus.
A warning flare, silent but unmistakable.
The woman caught it before she even crossed the final meters to the table.
She slowed her steps—not hesitating, just adjusting—and stopped just beyond the reach of the booth's low light. Then, politely, she lowered her head in a respectful bow.
Not to the group.
To Irina.
"Miss Emberheart," she began, her voice smooth. "I don't wish to interrupt your team's well-earned rest. I'll be brief."
Irina said nothing for a moment, her expression unreadable.
But she didn't wave the woman away.
She lifted her glass, took a quiet sip, then set it down again with soft precision.
"Then speak."
The woman inclined her head. "My name is Calera Venth, representing Cloudveil Reliquary. We—and several others, as I'm sure you're aware—have been observing today's performance trials."
Astron's gaze flicked up again. Subtle. Measuring.
Layla and Jasmine quieted, glancing between Irina and the scout.
But it was Sylvie who looked up last—mid-spoonful, blinking slowly.
Calera continued, tone still measured. "I won't pretend to be here for all of you. Though I will say—your team coordination is impressive. It's rare to see genuine synergy in a first-round dungeon."
Then she looked directly at Sylvie.
Not with pressure.
Not with predatory eagerness.
But with intent.
Clear. Focused.
"I'm here for Miss Gracewind."
"Eh?"
----------A/N-----------
Sorry for the late post.
I was working on a project last night with our team, hence I couldn't write any chapters.
I will post 4 chapters to compensate.
