After a while, Kez said goodbye to Ley and started walking towards his dorm room.
'Finally, I got rid of the guy. I don't understand why but I really don't like that guy.'
'Good thing that I don't have much trouble getting along with someone even if I don't like them.'
'Also, he didn't even bring up how I gave him a fake name last night. Did he forget or is he trying to play at something?'
'It is possible he doesn't know my real name yet. Kez and Dex does sound somewhat similar. But still...'
Kez recalled their conversation once again and after some online searches, his suspicion increased.
"Damn, I should've been more careful."
He shoved his hands in his pockets, quickening his pace as he neared his dorm building. The late afternoon breeze tugged at his sleeves, but he barely noticed. His mind was spinning.
The TROP campus had quieted since the morning rush. Only a few cadets lingered on the walkways, chatting or hurrying to their next destination. A few of them noticed him but Kez kept his head low, avoiding eye contact.
As he reached the elevator, he tapped the button and waited, glancing over his shoulder once in case anyone was watching. Was it just paranoia? Maybe. But something about Ley's presence still sat wrong with him.
The elevator doors slid open. He stepped inside alone and leaned against the back wall.
"Ley... Ley... Why do you have to be such a headache..." he muttered.
The elevator dinged. His floor.
Kez walked down the hall, trying not to overthink it, but the knot in his stomach stayed tight. As he slid his keycard and opened the door to his dorm room, he exhaled sharply.
"Alright Mr. Fin. Just don't do anything stupid from now on," he muttered again, quieter this time.
He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. The dorm was plain and quiet. A neatly made bed, an empty desk, and a wall-mounted screen that blinked softly in standby. The stillness felt almost unnatural, but he welcomed it.
The size and appearance of the rooms depended on ones ranking in the academy and for someone like Kez who was placed closer to the bottom of the ranking, this room was the best he could hope for.
Kez let out a long breath and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees.
"That bastard Jack has a really fancy room. AHHH, I WANT THAT ROOM!"
He rubbed his face fiercely, then pushed himself back up and walked over to the screen. A few light taps brought up his schedule. Most of the morning was marked off for orientation, which he had somehow survived. Now, just one thing remained on the day's agenda.
Field Familiarization – 1600 Hours.
Kez frowned at the vague label. No details, no room number. Just a time. And a warning in small print beneath it: Attendance mandatory. Dress accordingly.
He checked the time. Thirty-seven minutes.
"Great," he mumbled. "Time to stalk some students again."
Unfortunately for Kez, he couldn't simply recall what this event meant from his mind. Most of the minor details from the book was hard to recall. Not only had it been a while since he read this part, but he also hadn't exactly been trying to memorize it at the time. He turned away from the screen and exited the room.
He stepped back into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. The air outside his room was cooler, sharper, like the building was trying to keep everyone alert. His boots clicked softly against the polished floor as he walked, half-focused, eyes scanning ahead but mind still turning over fragments of half-remembered pages.
"Field Familiarization." He muttered it under his breath like it might suddenly trigger something useful. But nothing came. Just a blurry recollection of training grounds, maybe? Or some kind of open-air arena? A few cadets had shown up bloodied in the next chapter, but whether that was from this event or the one after, he couldn't say for sure.
The hallway branched, and he picked the direction that led toward the central campus. Sure enough, he spotted a small cluster of cadets moving with purpose, dressed in standard training gear. Kez fell into step behind them like he belonged, keeping just enough distance to not be noticed, but close enough to see where they were headed.
Outside, the sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the courtyard. The crowd grew as more students joined the flow, all converging toward a broad, gated structure he hadn't noticed before — tall stone walls, thick metal doors, and two towering lights that looked like they belonged on a prison yard.
A line had started to form. Some cadets chatted quietly. Others looked tense. No one looked excited.
Kez tilted his head.
"Why does everyone look like they are entering a prison..." he muttered.
The gate creaked open.
The gate creaked open, just enough for the first few cadets to slip inside. One by one, they stepped through, each giving their name to an instructor with a tablet in hand. No greetings. No instructions. Just a cold nod and a wave to move along.
Kez shifted in line, craning his neck slightly to see what was beyond the gate, but the inner structure blocked most of it. From what little he could make out, the space was wide, open, and uneven — patches of dirt, scattered stone, and what looked like worn-down paths cutting through sparse terrain. It wasn't a field. It was a controlled wilderness.
When it was his turn, he stepped up to the instructor.
"Name?" the man asked, without looking up.
"Kez. Kez Jolkev."
A pause. The tablet beeped. The instructor gave a curt nod and motioned him forward.
Inside, the walls muffled the sounds of the campus. It was quieter here, the kind of quiet that made the tension louder. A group of cadets had already formed near the center, standing in loose lines, unsure of what to do. There were no signs, no guides, just an open stretch of space with several crates along one edge and a tall platform on the far side, where a figure stood observing the crowd.
Kez found a spot somewhere in the middle and tried not to look as out of place as he felt. His eyes flicked toward the crates. Equipment, maybe. Or weapons. Or both.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then glanced up at the platform.
The figure hadn't moved. Whoever they were, they were just watching. Waiting.
Kez sighed. "Okay. Field familiarization. I hope there's more to this thing than networking with the grass."
The figure on the platform finally moved.
With practiced ease, they descended the steps at the side, long coat swaying behind them. A woman — tall, sharp-featured, with dark gloves tucked neatly into her belt and a faint smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth. Her uniform bore the insignia of a high-ranking officer, but her stride didn't carry the stiffness of formality. She walked like someone who had nothing to prove.
Kez's heartbeat fastened as recognition clicked. Instructor Cera Velin.
He remembered her from the book. She didn't speak much, but when she did, it was never good for whoever she was looking at. Her specialty was testing limits — physically, mentally, strategically — and breaking anyone who thought they didn't have one. She was a very dangerous woman. Worst part? She had the authority to expel any student she desired, and they couldn't do anything about it unless the dean personally intervened.
'Fuck I can't mess up in front of her.'
"Alright, cadets," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the field. "This is your Field Familiarization exercise. In a moment, you'll approach the crates and select a weapon from the available options. After that, you'll form small groups and begin basic testing and drills."
She paused briefly, letting the gravity of her next words settle in.
"You may switch weapons during this session if needed. But once the exercise ends, your selected weapon will be assigned to you for the remainder of the semester. Requests for a change after today will require formal approval and a valid reason."
A quiet murmur ran through the crowd. Kez didn't join in. He was too busy scanning the faces around him.
And then he saw her.
Eva Sol.
Even without her signature braid, she was unmistakable — calm, poised, and already bored-looking, as if she'd done this a hundred times. She stood a few rows over, arms folded, gaze half-lidded like she was evaluating everyone and finding them lacking.
Kez immediately turned away.
If Eva was here, then…
He spotted a second face, a head taller than most others, arms crossed like he was guarding a door even in the middle of a crowd.
Dren Talvek.
And there, a few steps behind Eva — Yla Ferren, her expression unreadable but eyes razor-sharp, taking in every detail of her surroundings.
And where they were, Cael Sorein couldn't be far.
Kez's breath caught as he saw him — standing near the crates, speaking to another cadet with calm authority. Cael looked exactly like the novel described. Hair trimmed, uniform sharp, presence magnetic in the worst way. A leader without question, even here, even now.
The Core Four. Together.
Kez cursed under his breath. "Of course they'd show up to this. Where everyone else at?"
Velin clapped her hands once.
"Groupings will be randomized. Assignments will be individual. No partners. No help. No complaints."
The moment Velin's final word dropped, the atmosphere thickened. Cadets stood straighter. Conversations stopped. Even the whisper of movement died out.
Kez's eyes flicked back to the crates. The weapons. There were at least twenty of them, some still sealed shut, others beginning to hum with faint energy signatures. Holographic panels above each crate displayed icons and names. Pulsebow. Shocklance. Phase discs. Others looked more experimental than functional.
A subtle vibration passed underfoot as the crates unlocked with synchronized clicks.
"Proceed," Velin said simply.
No more instructions.
The cadets hesitated for half a second, then moved. Some rushed forward like they knew exactly what they wanted. Others hung back, watching and calculating.
Kez walked slowly, eyes narrowed. He had already decided what he was going to choose.
The line in front of the crates was already chaotic. A tall cadet elbowed past a shorter one. Someone nearly knocked over a phase disc crate trying to get a better look. A few of the Core Four had already chosen theirs.
Eva now held a sleek polished fire-colored staff, the weapon folding effortlessly into a compact baton across her back. Yla had taken a set of twin blades, sliding them into magnetic sheaths along her thighs. Dren chose what looked like a hammer with some kind of battery looking thing embedded inside the weapon.
Cael hadn't moved. He stood near a crate labeled Prototype and simply observed. Watching who picked what. Watching how they picked.
Kez didn't approach the center. Instead, he slipped to the far edge, where the more basic weapons were placed.
These weapons lacked the polish and engineered elegance of the flashy prototypes clustered near the Core Four. No mana harmonization. No reactive alloys. No shimmering finishes. Just solid builds. Plain. Functional.
A crate nearby sat half-open, its lid crooked, revealing a mix of practical melee weapons — short swords, iron maces, training sabers. Most were untouched. Cadets gravitated toward weapons that hummed, glowed, or pulsed.
Kez crouched beside it and lifted the lid fully. Dust and cloth lined the inside. He swept them aside.
Beneath, his hand landed on the hilt of a firm but unremarkable sword.
It was a one-hander. Basic guard. The reach was slightly longer for typical one-handed swords. Single-edged with a slight curve — enough to give it bite without sacrificing control. In shape and simplicity, it resembled a katana, though without the polish or ceremonial reverence. Just a blade made for practice and impact.
The blade had no enchantments, no core, no assistive mechanics. Just well-forged steel, darkened by age and use, sharpened with care rather than circuitry.
The grip was rough leather, worn down in places where previous users had clenched too hard during drills. Kez wrapped his fingers around it. It didn't spark or click into place. It simply… fit.
He raised the sword, testing the balance.
Light enough to swing without strain. Heavy enough to teach him restraint. More importantly, it was quiet. It demanded attention, not because it announced itself, but because it didn't.
He gave it a slow arc through the air. No humming. No flash. Just the sound of steel slicing cleanly through wind.
Kez nodded.
"This is fine."
No frills. No shortcuts. If he was going to learn from scratch, it made more sense to build fundamentals with something honest. Something that didn't compensate for his lack of experience — and wouldn't punish him with overcomplications.
He strapped it across his lower back using the basic leather sheath provided. It clicked in with a snug, silent lock.
As he turned back to the forming groups, he felt the glances. A few cadets did a double take. One nudged a friend and whispered something with a smirk.
Most others had chosen weapons that could guide their mana, or enhance reaction time, or link directly with their internal circuits.
Kez? He'd chosen a sword meant for practice yards.
And that was exactly why he liked it.
But unlike most of these legacies, Kez had never seriously trained with a weapon before. Not in the way he'd need to from now on. When he was younger, he had learned to handle a knife, but that was for practical use — not for technique or discipline. It had been a personal tool, not a formal weapon. Most of his understanding came from reading, watching others, and piecing things together on his own. In other words, he didn't know how to make a weapon fit his combat style rather than making his combat style fit the weapon.
Starting with a specialized or flashy weapon would only slow him down. He didn't have the luxury to take shortcut unlike others. He was here for the long game. He could probably pick something really fancy for now that would help him in the coming months but doing so would hinder his growth for the future. As a result, what he needed was something straightforward. Something that forced him to learn the basics without shortcuts.
This sword, simple and somewhat heavy, gave him exactly that.
Its weight would teach him control. Its reach would teach him spacing. Every strike would require focus, timing, and intention. It would not mask his mistakes. It would reveal them.
And that was the point.
If he could learn to handle this sword — if he could understand its rhythm and power — then later, when it came time to switch to something more refined or specialized, he would be ready. He wanted a weapon he could grow with, not one that held his hand.
He didn't need to stand out in combat. Not yet.
He just needed to learn.
'I just spouted a bunch of wise stuff in my head but if I break my arm trying to swing this shit then Imma drop out.'
He also picked out a pair of black-colored gloves and slipped them on. They clicked into place with a soft chime as they synced to his ID. A small screen on the back of the glove blinked green: Calibration Pending. Thread-launchers. Compact, fast-deploy. The kind used for light traversal, grappling, or quick captures. Combat-safe. Mobility-enhanced.
Velin's voice cut through the chatter again.
"Groupings are up. Check your slate or the board. No trades."
A ripple moved through the crowd. Cadets gathered around the board, murmuring, exchanging glances, already sizing up their teams.
Kez found his name near the bottom:
Group 19 – Kez Jolkev, Marie Alvon, Dask Ferrin
He exhaled through his nose. Just as he stepped back, two others stopped a short distance away, staring at the same line.
"…You've got to be kidding me," Marie muttered.
She was mid-height, sharp-featured, and stiff-backed. Her slate lowered slowly. Dask, standing beside her, looked like he'd just swallowed something bitter.
"Please don't tell me this is the guy from this morning," Dask muttered. "You're joking, right?"
"Yeah," Marie replied, voice low. "That's him."
They didn't move right away. Just stared at Kez like he was a walking warning label.
Kez offered them a wide, friendly smile and gave a cheerful little wave.
"Well hey there," he said, voice warm like he was greeting old friends at a bus stop. "Looks like we're teammates! Kez Jolkev, reporting for duty. Haha."
Marie blinked. Dask looked away, visibly grimacing.
Eventually, they walked over. Marie kept her arms crossed, her jaw tight.
"Marie Alvon," she said, clipped.
"Dask Ferrin," the other mumbled, clearly hoping this wasn't real.
Kez extended a hand with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn't picked up a single social cue all morning. "Pleasure's all mine. Excited to work with you two fine folks. Gotta say, it's nice to be included."
They didn't shake. Kez just nodded as if they had.
Marie glanced at her slate. "We're assigned to Zone 4. East incline. No auto-slope."
"Ah, good ol' Zone 4," Kez said, with the kind of tone someone might use about a favorite diner. "Sounds like a scenic route. Nothing like a good walk to build team chemistry, right?"
Dask muttered, "Would be a very good walk if one of our teammates hadn't already caused two major incidents before breakfast."
"Hmm?" Kez asked with wide-eyed innocence. He turned to Marie, eyes widening even more. "Wait… you caused two major incidents before breakfast?" He whistled, shaking his head with mock admiration. "Didn't have you pegged for the chaotic type."
Marie stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
Dask blinked. "Are you serious?"
Kez just smiled, easy and unbothered. "What? I mean, she's got that quiet intensity. Wouldn't surprise me. Or were you talking about yourself?"
Neither of them replied.
Kez gave a light shrug, as if that settled it, and started walking after them. "No worries, folks," he added cheerfully. "I won't let your troublesome past get in the way of our friendship. Clean slate, yeah? Heh. New day, new hike, new friends."
Behind him, Dask gave Marie a look like he finally understood every warning he'd ever heard. "He's exactly like they said," he muttered.
Marie didn't answer. She just shook her head once — sharp, decisive — and walked faster.
Kez adjusted the sword on his back, clapped his gloved hands together once, and beamed like they were heading off on a field trip.
"Well!" he said brightly. "Let's get to it. Teamwork makes the dream work."
Neither of them responded. Dask just muttered something that sounded like a prayer. Marie didn't even look back.
Kez trailed after them, a few paces behind, humming to himself — as if nothing was wrong at all.