When the garrison’s wall fell, Suri expected men to pour out.

  Instead, dungeon monsters came like an endless stream.

  The first that stepped into the light was wrong—too many limbs, its body stitched from the parts of other beasts. Then came the next, and the next.

  A hundred different nightmares spilling out as if the garrison itself were a wound torn open to the depths of the dungeons.

  Suri’s breath caught. Her illusions flickered across the battlefield, flickering as her mind struggled to keep pace with what she saw.

  “Reporting,” she said quickly, voice trembling despite her discipline. “Monsters. Dozens… no, hundreds. Mixed dungeon types. Advancing from the breach.”

  The command tent rustled. Men leaned over maps, faces pale in the lanternlight.

  One of the high-ranking officers said in a loud voice. “Blow the trumpet! We’re pulling back. Save our strength for the next push.”

  Outside, chaos responded. Lines shifted. Soldiers shouted orders. The front pulled back, replaced by younger voices—the students.

  Suri’s heart twisted. She rose to her feet, about to run toward the flap of the tent—

  A hand stopped her.

  Wor-en. His grip was steady, grounding. “You’ll stay here,” he said quietly. “You’re our eyes. If anything comes from behind the garrison, I need to know before it reaches us.”

  Suri hesitated, meeting his gaze.

  “Have faith,” Wor-en interrupted softly. “In your classmates.”

  The look in his eyes wasn’t commanding—it was weary.

  Suri’s illusions flickered around them like faint candlelight, mirroring her unease. Finally, she nodded. “Understood.”

  Wor-en released her and turned toward the tent flap, adjusting his cloak. “I’ll go see the front myself.”

  Before he could leave, the tent flap opened from outside.

  The cold followed him at first. Then Lord Kavel.

  He didn’t stride in like the legends said he did. He stepped through slowly, his long spear used more as a walking stick than a weapon. His hair—white as mountain snow—hung in a loose braid, and the deep lines around his eyes looked carved from stone.

  “Report,” he said, voice firm but faintly rasped.

  Suri started, “The garrison’s wall is gone, my lord. But instead of soldiers, monsters—”

  Lord Kavel coughed. A harsh, wet sound. A fleck of blood hit the floorboards.

  At once, two officials rushed to his side, but he waved them off with the back of a trembling hand. “No. Sit me down. Quickly.”

  They helped him lower onto a chair, his spear clattering softly against the tent pole as he leaned it aside. For a long moment, he just breathed. The sound of battle outside filled the silence—distant screams, the dull roar of magic detonations, the howl of the wind over snow.

  Then, slowly, Lord Kavel raised his head. His eyes caught the lamplight—clear, focused, and impossibly calm.

  “I don’t have much time left,” he said.

  Outside, the trumpet blew again—this time, not for retreat, but for something else. A warning.

  And through the faint shimmer of her illusions, Suri saw them: the monsters reforming their lines, as if being commanded.

  Someone—or something—was guiding them.

  ……

  Boris yawned, the sound almost disrespectful amid the chaos. “If they need me,” he muttered, “they’ll call.”

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  The tent flap burst open. Wor-en strode in, his coat snapping behind him, eyes sharp enough to cut steel. “Gear up,” he barked. “We’re moving to the front.”

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  Rin blinked, half-standing. “Wait—what? We’re not going to war, are we?”

  “Yes,” Wor-en said. Then, with a grim smile, “And no. You’re not fighting soldiers. You’re killing monsters. Lots of them.”

  For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Adam rose to his full height, towering over everyone, stretching his arms until his joints popped. “About time,” he said, grinning. “I was getting bored.”

  The others followed suit—buckles snapping, armor clinking, the familiar ritual before battle. Boris rolled his shoulders and slid his borrowed sturdy spear from one of the northern soldiers into place.

  Outside, the sound of marching—thousands of boots crunching on snow, though most of them were retreating. The front was folding in like a wounded beast, soldiers limping past with blood on their cloaks.

  When they reached the line, Yuri was already there, her cloak fluttering, eyes narrowed toward the battlefield. Hands were tightly holding her staff.

  She looked up as they approached. “Where’s Suri?”

  “In the command tent,” Wor-en answered. “They need her sight more than her skills.”

  Yuri nodded, a flicker of worry crossing her expression, then vanished as she turned toward the chaos ahead.

  The ground trembled with distant impacts. Fire bloomed across the snowfield like brief flowers of light. Ahead, what remained of the northern line was breaking—monsters charging through gaps, claws and teeth flashing.

  The students froze for a breath. Then one of the soldiers fell within sight—cut down before he could even scream.

  “[Sharp Mind],” Yuri whispered.

  The world shifted.

  The roar of monsters dulled. The tremor in their hands eased. Their breathing slowed. It was as though she’d wrapped their thoughts in glass—cold, clear, unshakable.

  When she spoke next, her voice carried like a commander’s. “I’m acting leader for now. Listen carefully.”

  She scanned each face—Boris, Adam, Andel, Leo, Roy. Each of them straightened unconsciously beneath her gaze.

  “Our range damage dealer is lacking, but we have a strong frontline. Boris, Adam, Andel, Leo—you’re our defensive and offensive line. Keep tight, don’t chase, don’t get drawn out. Hold position until I call it.”

  “Understood,” Boris said, the lazy tone gone.

  Yuri nodded once, then turned to Roy, who was already tracing glowing sigils into the air.

  “I can summon another one,” Roy said, eyes gleaming. “Something stronger this time. I just need the right corpse.”

  She was about to say something about that but held on. They needed every additional manpower.

  The monsters were coming—again.

  And this time, they weren’t scattered. They were marching.

  …

  They finally arrived.

  The monsters poured from the shattered wall like a wound in the earth had been ripped open. They came in waves—slavering beasts with jagged scales, ice-breathing wolves from the Dungeons, and things half-formed, as if the dark itself had given up trying to decide what they should be. Their howls drowned the wind.

  Yuri stood among the students, the cold biting her exposed cheek. The smell hit first—iron, sweat, something like sulfur. The soldiers at the front lines shouted orders, but already the formations were breaking.

  “We have to push them back!” Yuri shouted. “Contain the breach! If they spread, we’re finished!”

  Her voice carried farther than she expected. Heads turned. Eyes met hers. No one questioned her.

  Good, she thought.

  She touched her chest, whispering, “[Enhance Speed Level Two].”

  Her pulse quickened instantly, power seeping into her limbs like liquid lightning. The world sharpened—every sound, every flicker of motion. No, the world seemed to slow down.

  Adam moved first. The towering man lifted his rectangular shield and charged. The ground trembled beneath his boots, and when the horde met him, it was like watching a wall of steel meet a storm.

  He didn’t stop.

  He pushed.

  Each impact rang like hammer blows on an anvil.

  Andel darted beside him, his enchanted lance humming with crackling lightning. The air smelled of ozone, and when he struck, a thunderclap followed. The first line of monsters convulsed, smoke rising from their twitching bodies.

  Yuri felt it—the rhythm of battle forming. A momentum.

  Behind them, Boris shouted his skills. His transformed humungous spear blurred, cutting arcs of silver through the air. Monsters fell, one after another, impaled, broken, or burned by the magic coursing through his weapon.

  “Don’t get carried away,” Yuri called. “Hold the line!”

  To her right, Roy knelt, both hands pressing to the ground.

  The earth split. Skeletal arms clawed their way free, followed by the warped shapes of his summon—bones reinforced with black runes pulsing faintly in the dark.

  “[Undead Might],” he breathed, and the glow intensified.

  The two skeletal warriors surged forward, their movements unnervingly fluid, cutting through beasts three times their size. When one fell, it pulled itself back together again, bone knitting bone with a screech like breaking glass.

  The students were holding. Barely. But holding.

  “Rin, cover me!” Yuri shouted.

  Rin stepped up without hesitation,“Ready!” she said, shield raised.

  Yuri closed her eyes. The ground was slick with blood, shaking with the force of clashing monsters and steel. She forced her breathing steady, focusing inward.

  “[Rampage First Stage].”

  Her skin burned red, light threading through her veins like molten glass. The power spread outward in ripples—first to Rin, then Adam, Leo, Andel, Boris, and even Roy’s undead army.

  The battlefield shifted.

  Adam slammed into a monster twice his size and sent it reeling beside him was Leo who almost did the same. Andel’s lightning tore through five at once. Boris spun, spear glowing red-hot, carving a path through flesh and bone.

  For a heartbeat, the monsters faltered.

  Then the students roared. Not just their group. The other nearby group as well.

  The northern soldiers, weary and blood-soaked, looked up from their retreat and stopped. Their eyes widened as the wave of power surged forward—a handful of students, glowing red in the dimming sunlight, cutting through the chaos like legends reborn.

  The sight rekindled something in the men’s eyes. Pride. Desperation. Fury.

  The other squads—the third-years, the fourth-years—felt it too. And one by one, they charged.

  “It will only last for a few breaths!” Yuri shouted at the top of her lungs but no one seemed to care any more.

  “The side effect… I guess.” She glanced over her shoulder. Even Rin was charging in front now, ”This is why Kana warned me a few times.”

  She scanned the broken wall again and muttered, ”I had no choice.”