The day after the final test, Kaelen stood alone in the academy courtyard, replaying the message he'd received that morning.
Stalward Academy.
An invitation.
Short. Formal. Tagged with Stalward's elite division seal.
He had deleted the notification—but the words still echoed.
You are invited to join Stalward's Elite Combat Division.
Live dungeon access. Advanced tactical training. Immediate deployment path.
He hadn't responded.
He didn't trust it.
Not yet.
—
That's when he heard the footsteps.
Measured. Confident.
Unfamiliar.
He turned.
A tall woman in a long, dark coat was approaching.
She moved like someone who held authority that couldn't be questioned—the kind of presence you felt before she even spoke.
She stopped in front of him, her expression unreadable.
"You're Kaelen."
He didn't answer.
"I'm Professor Caldera. The offer you received came from me."
Her gaze stayed fixed on him. Calm. Unshaken.
"You didn't respond."
"I don't respond to things I haven't decided," he said.
Caldera gave a small nod. "Good. Then decide now."
—
"You want an answer," Kaelen said, "then here it is."
He met her eyes. "I'll accept—on one condition. I run the dungeons solo."
Silence.
Caldera's jaw tightened.
"That's not how Stalward operates," she said. "Cadets train in squads. Coordination is survival. This isn't just about your strength—it's about working as part of a unit."
"I've been doing this alone for over a year. I didn't ask to be solo. I had to be."
"You've survived," she said slowly, "but only in training simulations. Controlled pain. Designed encounters. That's not the same as reality."
He didn't look away.
"I know the difference. That's why I need the real thing."
—
Another pause.
"You realize what you're asking," she said. "No partners. No backup. No second chances. You go in all alone—and if you fail, you don't come back."
"I understand," Kaelen said.
His voice didn't waver.
Her eyes lingered on him—long enough to see if there was hesitation.
There wasn't.
"All of it rests on you."
"I'm used to that."
—
Caldera nodded.
Then, without ceremony, she extended her hand.
Not as a command.
Not as a symbol.
Just a quiet bridge between two people who understood what was about to come.
Kaelen looked at it.
Then gripped it.
Firm. Brief.
Not comfort.
Not warmth.
Just recognition.
The last shackle had fallen.
No more simulated threats.
No more restraint.
No more controlled pain.
Finally—something real.
Just the dungeon and me.