Damien erged from the teleportation array, blinking against the sudden shift in temperature.
Unlike Velhast's cold morning air, Ryedale was warr, a sign that the city was well into early sumr. The air slled of cooked food and fresh spices, carried through the streets by the morning breeze.
He didn't waste ti.
Without pausing to take in the sights, Damien turned toward the city's main gates.
The streets of Ryedale were already alive with movent.
Unlike Velhast, where the morning had started quiet and slow, Ryedale's people were in full motion. It was as if they had been waiting for sothing—waiting for the city's lockdown to end.
rchants hurried to set up their stalls, shouting their goods to early risers. Travelers bargained loudly, eager to move before the heat of the day set in fully. The roads were already filling, a stark contrast to Velhast's sleepy start.
Damien made his way through the bustling streets, his pace brisk.
The sooner he was out of Ryedale, the better.
He could feel it—the tension in the air, the slight unease in his gut.
Sothing was off.
But he didn't stop.
He reached the city gates before long.
As Damien approached the checkpoint, one of the uniford guards stepped forward, holding up a hand.
"Hold there, traveler," the guard said. "State your na and identification."
Damien didn't hesitate.
Reaching into his coat, he retrieved a small black card and handed it to the guard.
The rcenary ID glead under the sunlight, displaying:
{Na: Damien}
{Rank: Gold-Ranked rcenary}
The guard's gaze lingered on the na for a mont before nodding.
"A Gold Rank," he muttered, handing the card back. "You're free to go."
Damien took the card and stepped past the gates.
With a nod to the guards, he kept walking.
As soon as he was a safe distance away, he opened his mouth and spoke to his system, summoning his griffin.
Aquila's golden wings burst into existence, flaring against the morning sky.
Damien mounted swiftly, gripping the beast's thick feathers.
With one powerful beat, Aquila took to the skies.
Back at the checkpoint, the guard stood still, watching Damien disappear into the sky.
Sothing about the na on that rcenary ID nagged at him. "Damien…"
Then—
Another guard approached, a serious expression on his face.
"Hey," the second guard said. "Did you check that guy's na?"
The first guard frowned. "Yeah, it was—"
His breath caught.
Realization hit him like a hamr.
The entire city had been on lockdown the previous day—all for one reason.
They had been searching for a man nad Damien.
The color drained from the guard's face.
He had just let that man walk through the gates.
His hands clenched into fists, panic creeping into his chest.
"He… He's the one they were looking for," he whispered.
The second guard's eyes widened.
"WHAT?!"
Their heads snapped upward—but it was already too late.
Far above them, Damien and Aquila were specks against the sky.
The Gold-Ranked rcenary had escaped.
Damien had no idea what had just happened below.
He didn't know that he had been hunted the day before.
He didn't know that every soldier in Ryedale had been ordered to look for him.
And he certainly didn't know that the guard he had just spoken to was now cursing his own mistake.
All that mattered to Damien was one thing.
Westmont wasn't far anymore.
And nothing was going to stop him now.
~~~~~
Damon and his team—Daveon, Anaya, and their guardian, Ex-General Leanna—walked through the grand halls of the academy toward Dean Godsthorn's office.
Only a few days had passed since they had returned from their three-week-long training, and their bodies still carried the fatigue of Leanna's brutal drills.
But it had all been worth it.
During their return, Dean Godsthorn had tested their progress personally, and though his standards were unyielding, he had been genuinely impressed by the results.
"Your combat ability has grown remarkably," the Dean had told them. "You are now among the best fighters of your year."
That acknowledgnt alone was enough to confirm what they already knew.
They were strong.
But now, they needed to be stronger.
The Academy Competition was approaching—a battle between the most elite students of every year.
And for the Third Years, Damon's team was the strongest choice.
But there was one problem.
They needed one more mber.
And today, the Dean had summoned them to fix that.
As they entered the Dean's office, the first thing Damon noticed was that they weren't alone.
A single girl stood in the room, her presence almost forgettable.
Damon frowned slightly.
He knew her face.
Familiar, yet… unfamiliar.
She was from their class—a girl who always blended into the background, the type of student who never stood out.
Soone who, until this very mont, had been nothing more than a side character in his mind.
Damon exchanged glances with Daveon and Anaya.
Neither of them reacted.
They barely even acknowledged her.
Instead, they turned their attention to the Dean, stepping forward and bowing respectfully alongside Leanna.
"Dean Godsthorn," Damon spoke first. "You called for us?"
The Dean nodded, his sharp eyes sweeping over them.
"Yes," he said, his tone asured. "I have chosen the final mber for your team."
His gaze shifted to the girl standing beside him.
Damon and the others followed his gaze, their expressions unreadable.
Dean Godsthorn gestured toward her.
"This is your fourth teammate."
Silence filled the room.
Then, finally, the girl spoke. Her voice was calm, but firm. "My na is Celeste."
Damon studied her carefully.
Celeste had shoulder-length silver hair, tied loosely behind her back, with calm violet eyes that held no signs of nervousness or uncertainty.
She wore the sa Third-Year uniform as them, but despite that, she felt like a complete outsider.
Damon's mind raced. 'Why her?'
Why soone who had never stood out in combat classes?
Why soone they had barely noticed before now?
Anaya, ever blunt, was the first to speak.
"Dean," she said, crossing her arms. "Are you… sure about this?"
Celeste showed no reaction to the doubt in Anaya's voice.
The Dean, however, narrowed his gaze slightly.
"You question my judgnt, Anaya?" he asked.
Anaya tensed slightly, realizing she had overstepped.
"N-No, Dean," she said quickly. "It's just… we don't know anything about her."
The Dean's lips curled into a small smirk.
"Exactly."
Damon's brows furrowed.
"Dean," he said carefully, "why her?"
The Dean leaned back in his chair, studying them.
Then, with a casual motion, he waved his hand.
"Leanna," he said. "Would you be kind enough to test her?"
Leanna raised a brow, but she smirked.
"As you wish," she said.
She stepped forward, rolling her shoulders.
"Alright, Celeste," Leanna said, her tone sharp and playful. "Show why you're here."
For the first ti—
Celeste smiled.
A small, knowing smile.
"Very well."
And then—she moved.
Before anyone could blink, Celeste was gone.
One second, she had been standing still and the next, she was behind Leanna.
Leanna barely had ti to react before Celeste's palm shot forward, striking toward her back.
The ex-general pivoted instinctively, dodging just in ti.
But Celeste didn't stop.
She pressed forward, her movents precise, controlled, and unreadable.
Damon felt a chill crawl up his spine.
This girl—this so-called 'side character'—was moving like a trained assassin.
Leanna counterattacked, throwing a sharp kick, but Celeste anticipated it.
With a graceful motion, she twisted her body mid-air, flipping over the attack effortlessly.
The mont her feet touched the ground, she struck out again, aiming straight for Leanna's throat.
Leanna barely blocked in ti, but the force of the strike sent her skidding back slightly. 'She pushed Miss Leanna back?'
Daveon, who had been silent this whole ti, exhaled slowly.
"I think I get it now," he muttered.
Damon clenched his fists.
So did he.
Leanna, instead of looking frustrated, grinned.
"You're good," she admitted, rolling her wrist. "Really good."
Celeste tilted her head slightly, still as calm as ever. "Thank you."
The Dean, watching from his seat, chuckled.
"Now do you understand why I chose her?" he asked, his voice filled with amusent.
Damon exhaled, finally relaxing. He exchanged glances with Daveon and Anaya. Neither of them had anything to say.
They had been wrong about Celeste.
She wasn't so forgettable background character.
She was dangerous.
And she was their new teammate.
Dean Godsthorn rose from his chair, addressing them all.
"With this," he said, "the Third-Year representatives for the Academy Competition are now complete."
His gaze swept over all of them.
"Damon. Daveon. Anaya. Celeste." He smiled. "You four will be my best team yet."
Damon looked at Celeste again, this ti with a new understanding.
User Comments
0 comments from readers