In the guild hall of Briarfield, a quiet tension lingered beneath the warm glow of hanging lanterns. The long oak table at the centre of the room was crowded with maps, empty mugs, and half-burnt candles that filled the air with the scent of smoke and melted wax. Outside, the muted sounds of the village drifted through the shuttered windows, but inside the hall, every voice carried weight.
Gathered around the table were Alden, Alaric, Felix, Kael, Aira, Roderick, the Guild Master of Briarfield, and Tobias—the leader of yesterday's patrol team.
Tobias rested both palms on the table as he spoke, his weathered face calm but lined with fatigue. "We didn't find anything unnatural during the patrol. No surges, no distortions, no lingering corruption." He exhaled slowly. "So it's safe to assume the Rift has closed... for now. Still, we'll keep watch for a few more days just to be certain."
The Guild Master nodded solemnly, fingers brushing through his greying beard. "That sounds wise."
"Agreed," Alden replied.
Felix leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "Dimensional Rifts aren't something you gamble with. One mistake and an entire region disappears overnight."
A faint silence followed those words.
Alaric finally uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the wall. "Then we wait until Ronan wakes up. After that, we leave."
The scrape of chairs against wood echoed softly as the three men began moving toward the exit. Before they could take more than a few steps, the guild doors creaked open.
Cool morning air swept into the hall.
Samantha stepped inside first, her silver hair shifting lightly with the breeze. Her expression remained composed as always, though her eyes immediately swept across the room, measuring every face. Beside her walked Ronan.
He looked slightly pale beneath the lantern light, and there was a faint heaviness in the way he carried himself, but his posture remained steady. His gaze was clear. Alert.
Alden's stern expression eased almost immediately. "How are you feeling?"
Ronan shrugged casually as if waking up after nearly dying was little more than an inconvenience. "Fine." His mouth twitched in annoyance. "Just irritated that my Keen Eye skill got obliterated."
Kael winced from the side. "You say that way too casually."
Ronan ignored him.
Alaric turned toward the Guild Master and inclined his head slightly. "We'll be leaving now. Thank you for your hospitality."
The Guild Master stood as well, returning the gesture with surprising respect. "The honour was ours. Few people would risk themselves the way your group did." His eyes lingered briefly on Ronan. "Safe travels to all of you."
Ronan exchanged a few brief words with Tobias near the doorway, thanking him for helping carry him back from the Rift. Tobias brushed it off gruffly, though the older man's expression softened for a brief moment before Ronan left.
By the time they reached the village entrance, the morning mist had begun lifting from the roads.
Alaric touched the gem embedded in his ring.
A pulse of pale blue light rippled outward.
A miniature flying boat materialised above his palm, no larger than a toy carved from crystal and silver. Then the vessel began to grow.
Wood groaned softly as its structure expanded piece by piece. Silver runes lit across the hull like veins of moonlight while curved sails unfolded overhead. In moments, a full-sized vessel hovered above the ground, stirring dust and loose grass beneath it.
Several villagers stopped in the streets just to stare.
Even after seeing it before, Ronan still found himself watching closely.
The craftsmanship alone was absurd.
Everyone boarded, and soon the ship lifted gently into the air. The village of Briarfield shrank beneath them as the vessel glided forward through drifting clouds and endless blue sky.
The steady hum of enchantments vibrated faintly through the deck.
Ronan eventually settled cross-legged near the open side of the ship. Wind brushed through his dark hair as he turned a storage ring between his fingers, eyes gleaming with restless curiosity.
It didn't take long for Alden, Alaric, and Felix to join him.
The four formed a loose circle on the deck.
Ronan held up the ring. "This was gathered by my clone inside the Dimensional Rift."
He tapped the ring lightly.
A shimmer of spatial light flashed.
Bundles of medicinal herbs were spilt onto the deck in neat heaps, releasing a strong earthy fragrance into the air. Some leaves glowed faintly with residual Aether while others carried unusual patterns along their stems.
Alaric raised his brows. "Now this is a proper harvest." He crouched beside one of the piles, inspecting the herbs carefully. "We found a few abandoned garden patches, but most of them had already dried out." His lips twitched slightly. "Though we managed a decent haul ourselves."
"My clone gathered these from the forest near the first entry point," Ronan explained. "Before heading toward the town."
Another tap.
Several smooth, circular containers dropped onto the deck with dull thuds.
Alden's gaze sharpened immediately. "Memory containers."
Ronan looked toward him. "So that's what they're called."
Alden picked one up carefully, turning it in his hands. These store fragments of knowledge. Techniques. Experience. Sometimes entire fields of expertise." His expression darkened slightly. "A fully functioning Keen Eye skill could absorb all of this instantly."
Felix gave a low whistle.
"In theory," Alden continued, "if one of these held advanced alchemical knowledge, the skill would transfer that knowledge directly into the user's mind."
Silence settled over the group.
The wind whistled softly past the ship.
Ronan stared at the containers without blinking.
A perfect tool for growth.
A useless treasure now.
Because the Keen Eye was cursed by the Goddess.
Alden clicked his tongue in irritation.
Felix rubbed his forehead.
Even Alaric let out a quiet sigh.
From farther down the deck, Kael tilted his head curiously. "What's going on over there?"
Lyra barely glanced up from where she lounged against a crate. "No idea. Probably some nerd discussion."
Kael nodded as though that fully explained everything.
Ronan suddenly looked toward Alden. "Sir, do you have an empty one?"
Alden frowned. "What for?"
Before Ronan could answer, Alaric spoke first, his tone thoughtful. "We can't tell which containers still hold information and which are spent." He gestured toward Alden's hand. "But the one he collected was already emptied completely. That makes it useful for testing."
Ronan nodded immediately. "Exactly."
Alden narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Testing what?"
Ronan grinned.
That expression alone made Alden regret asking.
"Actually," Ronan said, reaching forward, "I'll just take this one instead."
He picked a random container and carefully laid it sideways beside him.
Alaric watched the movement for a moment before giving a small approving nod.
Then Ronan tapped the ring once more.
This time, raw forging materials were poured onto the deck in organised stacks.
Dark ores.
Refined ingots.
Heavy metallic chunks streaked with strange glowing minerals.
Several crystalline stones shimmered faintly beneath the sunlight.
"These came from the forging shop's storage," Ronan explained.
Felix crouched beside one of the ores and gave a low whistle. "The people who lived there must've been serious craftsmen."
Ronan barely heard him.
His mind was elsewhere.
His eyes narrowed as another question surfaced. "Who could even seal something using a Divine Sword like Luminastra?" He looked toward Roderick briefly before turning back to Alaric. "I thought he was the only wielder."
Alaric leaned against the railing, gazing toward the clouds drifting endlessly across the horizon. "That's true... to an extent."
The wind tugged lightly at his coat.
"Divine artefacts exist far beyond modern understanding. The old records mention them appearing throughout history, then disappearing again." His voice lowered slightly. "No one really knows where they came from. Or who originally wielded them."
Felix nodded. "For centuries, most people thought they were myths." His eyes shifted toward Roderick's sword. "Then, over the last thirty years, they started resurfacing again."
"Something changed," Alaric murmured.
Ronan listened intently, eyes sparkling beneath the sunlight like someone hearing the opening lines of an ancient legend.
The more impossible the subject became, the more fascinated he looked.
Alden groaned loudly. "Enough already." He jabbed a finger toward Ronan. "Stop feeding this idiot's curiosity."
Ronan clicked his tongue. "Tch. Old man, I'll make you pay for ruining the story."
Alden snorted. "Try surviving a week without blowing yourself up first."
With a flick of Ronan's hand, the circular container vanished back into his storage ring. Alaric followed suit, storing the remaining items away before they cluttered the entire deck.
Eventually, Alaric informed everyone that reaching Serenwyn Academy would take two nights and three days. After that, the group gradually settled into quieter routines as the ship sailed through the skies.
Night fell slowly.
The world below became an endless sea of darkness broken only by distant rivers reflecting moonlight.
At the very front of the deck, Ronan sat alone in meditation.
Three flame wisps drifted around him.
One burned crimson like flowing blood.
Another shimmered deep violet.
The third glowed bluish-white, flickering softly like a fragment of frozen starlight.
The flames circled him lazily, illuminating his face in shifting colours while the night wind swept across the ship.
After a while, Ronan leaned back against the wooden deck and stared upward.
Countless stars stretched endlessly overhead.
"Still..." he muttered quietly, "I need a few more Aether crystals before I can fully advance."
Footsteps approached softly.
Orin lowered himself beside him without speaking at first. For a moment, both simply stared at the sky while the ship drifted silently through the clouds.
"How are you feeling?" Orin eventually asked.
"I'm fine."
The answer came too quickly.
Ronan's gaze never left the stars.
Orin glanced sideways at him before speaking again, more carefully this time. "I heard about your Keen Eye skill."
Ronan remained silent.
"I heard it was destroyed." Orin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "So... what perception skill are you planning to learn next?"
"For now?" Ronan's voice stayed flat. "None."
"Oh."
The air grew quiet again.
Then Orin suddenly grinned, clearly trying to shift the conversation somewhere lighter. "Did you hear about the new student competition for those under the Master Tier?"
Ronan gave a distracted hum. "What competition?"
"It's basically a hunting contest." Orin leaned back on his hands. "The Academy owns a massive hunting ground filled with magical beasts. Teams gather materials, monster parts, rare herbs—whatever they can find. The teams with the most valuable haul win."
"Oh."
Ronan's response was so uninterested that Orin nearly laughed.
"I need your help," Orin said suddenly.
That finally got a reaction.
Ronan glanced sideways at him. "Help with what? I can't carry you to first place."
Orin chuckled bitterly. "Not for that." He hesitated briefly before continuing. "There's a specific beast I need to hunt."
Ronan smirked faintly. "Ah. So you want to keep the materials for yourself."
Orin nodded openly. "As long as you don't submit the materials to the Academy, they stay yours. No points, though."
That caught Ronan's full attention.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
A hunting ground owned by the Academy...
Rare beasts.
Resources.
Potential Aether materials.
His mind immediately began calculating possibilities.
"This could actually help my advancement," he thought.
Out loud, he asked, "What kind of beast are we talking about? And who else is joining?"
"In the competition, teams can only have two to three members," Orin explained.
Ronan frowned immediately. "That's horribly unbalanced."
"It's supposed to be." Orin gave a helpless shrug. "The competition isn't really about students."
Ronan finally turned his head fully toward him. "Then what's it about?"
"Teachers."
Orin let out a slow breath before continuing.
"Students choose which instructor they want to represent. Then the teachers select participants for their teams. One teacher can support multiple groups." His expression dimmed slightly. "The instructors teaching thunder and wind magic won't choose me. I'm only Adept Tier Five, and they already have stronger students lined up."
He paused.
"And there's another problem." His voice lowered slightly. "Sir Alden's reputation among students is... terrible."
Ronan barked out a laugh.
Orin grimaced. "You laugh, but it's true. Everyone says he's too harsh, too strict, impossible to satisfy." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Last year, he didn't even have a team."
Ronan stared quietly at the night sky again for several seconds.
Then he muttered, "So if we use his name, we need to at least rank decently."
"Exactly." Orin nodded firmly. "Even if we fail to kill the beast itself, placing well would still help."
Ronan finally looked back toward him. "Alright then." A small grin appeared. "What kind of beast are we hunting?"
Orin laughed nervously.
That alone immediately triggered Ronan's instincts.
"Hehehe... It's a Rank Three serpent. Thunder and wind element."
Ronan shot upright so fast the nearby flame wisps scattered.
"What the hell hit your head?"
Orin flinched.
Ronan stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "I'm Adept Tier Four. You're Tier Five." He pointed between them incredulously. "And you want the two of us to hunt a Rank Three monster alone?"
The ship creaked softly beneath the night wind.
Ronan continued staring at him in disbelief.
"If we had four or five people, maybe I'd consider calling it risky but possible." He narrowed his eyes. "But with just two?" He jabbed a finger toward Orin again. "That's not confidence anymore. That's suicidal optimism."
Orin coughed awkwardly. "Well... technically, I was hoping you'd say yes before I explained that part."
Ronan looked genuinely offended. "You planned to scam me into a death mission?"
"I planned to reveal details progressively."
"That is literally the same thing."
A few nearby students glanced over after hearing the argument, only to quickly pretend they hadn't been listening.
Meanwhile, Orin laughed weakly while Ronan continued glaring at him beneath the cold starlight.