Paths.

The sun rose and fell over Vanguard Academy like a pendulum, slicing the days into segments. For Thalamik, Raymed, and Carmilla, the week was not a pause, but a proving ground.

They were assigned to Irregular Curriculum Room 3-E, tucked behind the central courtyard. This training facility was designed to break prior egos and remake the fundamentals of using Mana itself.

"Alright, listen up, irregulars!" barked Instructor Garun, a mountain of a man with hair like a haystack and veins that pulsed with blue light. "We're not here to pamper you. You fight Demon Envoys, good. You break noble heirs, impressive. But if you can't control your mana orb without detonating it, you're just a liability with a glow stick."

He pointed to the testing area. "Start with the Mana Reserve and Stability Exam. Channel your mana into the crystal orb. Let it fill, but don't overcharge it. You know the drill."

Raymed stood in front of his orb. He could feel it—the temptation to pour everything in.

Carmilla whispered from behind, "Steady this time!"

He smiled. "No promises."

But this time, he did hold back. The orb glowed gold, then white, then began to crack with fine spiderweb fractures. A jagged line split across it.

"Incomplete control. Couldn't stabilize the shell. Orb unusable," Instructor Garun muttered, making a note.

Raymed scratched his head. "Still better than exploding it, right?"

"There's no hope for you..." Thalamik said with a lethargic face.

On the next day, the students were forced to run laps around the floating columns of the mana stadium while controlling a thin mana thread—one mistake and the thread would snap, dispelling the enhancement. If the enhancement failed, then the students can't use the floating columns.

Thalamik didn't snap his thread once.

Instead, he sprinted faster with each lap, until mana visibly laced around his limbs, amplifying muscle contraction and tendon resilience.

"Inhuman," a student muttered.

"I mean he is 'The Fiend Kaiser, " another whispered, not mockingly but with admiration.

Raymed, on the other hand, kept tripping over his own momentum. He burned his thread halfway but managed to force his way through by his sheer mana, propelling him without using the mana thread enhancement.

Carmilla floated, calmly gliding on a mana-formed platform with wind-thread grace.

After that, they were moved to the Obsidian Range, an artificial canyon with targets, golems, and illusionary hostiles.

"Demolish the threat. But maintain your mana flow. No burnout," said the instructor.

Raymed inhaled. Mana burned down his arms like wildfire.

"FLARE!" he cried, launching a condensed beam that seared through three targets and blew the enemy targets into glowing ash.

A beat.

Instructor Garun blinked. "...Pass. Also, we'll need new dummies."

Carmilla focused next. She closed her eyes, formed a glyph in the air, and when a golem lunged, she whispered.

"Lesser Seal!"

Light wrapped around its shattered chest, and it stopped moving, healed. Not reanimated. Stabilized.

"Support-Class sealing magic, huh?" Garun nodded. "Rare for a second-year."

Then came Thalamik.

He walked into the arena without a weapon. When a stone beast charged, he slammed his palm into its shoulder and enhanced his hand with a dense flash of mana.

The beast crumbled.

Thalamik stepped away, flexing his hand as if it were made of iron.

The class whispered in awe.

They were instructed to meditate beside a series of elemental cores and allow residual mana to flow.

Raymed sat beside the shattered cores of Fire, Lightning, and Light.

Each time, when others depleted their energy, Raymed's aura grew.

"...He's absorbing residue," an instructor noted.

"Refilling mid-practice?" another whispered. "That's not normal."

It wasn't. Raymed's body was consuming ambient mana like a battery that never fully turned off.

"He's eating all of it without much care., As if a great predator that won't stop eating to get stronger. He is a 'Chronic Eater'." someone muttered.

The nickname stuck. Raymed didn't think much of it.

Carmilla, meanwhile, found herself able to redirect energies rather than absorb them—her control was nuanced, soft, responsive.

Thalamik used the cores to enhance his gloves, boots, and even a blunt stick—turning it into a bludgeon that cracked an obsidian test wall.

The staff looked worried.

On the fifth day of the training, they were drilled on theory, conversion equations, overload chains, and the ethics of forbidden casting.

Carmilla excelled. She could now create a delayed healing glyph and embed it into clothing.

Thalamik took notes silently, a rare thing for him since he usually already knew a lot about Mana. This time, he was silent and focused.

Raymed stared blankly at the diagram. "Why does the combustion formula look like a duck?"

"It's a combustion loop, Raymed," Carmilla said sweetly.

"Still looks like a duck."

"You know... now that I think about it..." Thalamik inquired.

Later, the trio was pitted against other second-year students.

No matter how you look at it's a weird look.

Raymed's bursts were refined now—explosive, but controlled. Even while sparring with two others, he kept pace, burning through obstacles with less mana than before.

"He doesn't run out," a second-year student, who was fighting him, grunted with an excited smile. "He just keeps going. This guy is crazy. As expected by someone called The Chronic Eater."

Raymed didn't respond as he is too absorbed to do his best at this sparring match.

Carmilla acted as a healer. She timed barriers, used reverse-stitched mana to patch broken mana flows in allies.

"Superb precision, she is really a Saint through and through, it seems," the healer instructor muttered.

Thalamik fought barehanded—again. Every hit reinforced by micro-boosts. A punch that could bend steel. An elbow strike that left scorch marks.

Someone whispered, "You know that I think about it... between The Chronic Eater and Fiend Kaiser. The only one bearing the sight of purity is Carmilla. She is a 'Saint'."

"Yeah.. she's a real cutie too at that. Let's chant her name."

"GO! GO! LET'S GO! CARMILLA THE SAINT!" a few people said in unison.

Carmilla was surprised by the chant she heard from the spectators, who were second-year students. She looked at the crowd with a blushing smile.

A smile so cute that it can send someone instantly to heaven.

"You know... I think I am in love..." A male student said as she looked at Carmilla's smile.

"Me too bro...maybe she's an angel disguised as a saint."

At the final day of the week, Instructor Garun stood before the class with Diko at his side. The trio stood together again, their clothes slightly singed, sleeves rolled, and hair a little wilder than a week ago.

Diko stepped forward.

"You three," he began. "Have proven more than capable. Not just in combat, but in adaptation. I will now announce your titles recognized by Vanguard Academy and give you information on your next specialization class."

"Raymed The Chronic Eater!" Diko looked at him. "You'll be sent to the Destruction Magic Specialization class. Your ability to take in mana residue—even mid-depletion—is unique. You also have a high aptitude in performing destruction magic since it uses less control. This path will make you more focused on increasing your power Force."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Raymed then scratched the back of his head. "Do I get a badge for Chronic Eater?"

"No. But maybe a cookbook."

Carmilla giggled.

"Carmilla," Diko turned. "You will continue in the Saint Ascension Program. Your understanding of healing, support, and mana thread weaving has accelerated faster than we've seen in years. No doubt you will reach even higher level in terms of Protection. You will train under the direct disciple of Grand Saint Veuz."

Carmilla nodded calmly. But her eyes sparkled with interest. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Thalamik," Diko said lastly. "You're being assigned to Enhancement Magic Class. Your use of reinforcement techniques is... well, terrifying. And perfect. On top of that, this might be the pathway to accelerate your prowess using your necromancy magic. Perhaps this can help you in a way. But as of now, I don't think any type of study in Vanguard is available for you to study necromancy more."

"Sir, yes, sir!" Thalamik smirked. "I'm not here to just learn what I want. I want to have broad skills, and this is already perfect. "

"Then that's good!" Diko said with a smile.

The trio stood in silence for a moment.

Then Raymed sighed. "So this is it. The part when we split."

Carmilla nudged him. "Not forever, right? It'll be boring without the two of you."

Thalamik crossed his arms. "Just think of it like... building separate complementary skills like building weapons. When we reunite, we'll bring a whole damn armory with us."

Diko nodded. "Exactly, Thalamik.. Learn what you can. Master what you must. And when the time comes, you three will combine what no single class could ever hope to contain."

They looked at each other—tired, bruised, burned... but stronger.

Raymed, Carmilla, and Thalamik stood shoulder to shoulder.

Then, grinning, all three raised a hand in salute.

"SIR, YES SIR!"

***

Diko stood in front of the grand spiral desk of Celathis, who reviewed documents with the sharpness of a falcon eyeing its prey.

Stacks of mana-imbued papers hovered beside her, rotating slowly. Each bore glowing tags of classification—Performance, Potential, Ethics, Mana Efficiency.

Celathis, the instructor who had overseen Thalamik, Carmilla, and Raymed from day one, didn't look up. "I have been expecting you. I didn't know you would come late."

"I'm never late," Diko replied smoothly. "Time simply reschedules itself for my arrival."

Celathis let the joke pass like a breeze and gestured for the paper reports. Diko handed it over.

She unraveled the dossier, her gaze darting line by line, lips unmoving. A minute passed in silence as the tower clock echoed from somewhere beyond the thick stone walls.

Finally, she spoke. "So their recognized title in this academy is the Fiend Kaiser, the Chronic Eater, and the Saint."

Diko folded his arms. "To be fair, the spectators of their trainings gave them those names, not me."

"And yet you use them."

Diko smiled faintly. "I feel that's fair since they earned them."

"Heh. Then I'll allow it." Celathis smiled. "Your report matches what the instructors submitted. Thalamik has a terrifying grasp of enhancement techniques, to the point his strikes were registering at blunt-force ratios beyond what his weight should allow."

"Superhuman reinforcement. It comes naturally to him. Mana precision through intuition."

"Raymed…" she continued, flipping a page. "Still unstable, but he's learning to ride the edge. He devours residue passively. Almost like his body was made to recycle mana."

"Some fear him. The others admire him. But he's an important force of power."

"And Carmilla." Celathis's tone softened. "A rare natural at support threadwork. Healing is her instinct. Her restraint is impressive for someone with so much stored potential."

Diko smiled, arms still crossed. "She's the balance that keeps the other two from turning every spar into a warzone."

Celathis sealed back the folder documents and placed it on her desk.

"You've done good work," she said. "Your handling of their transition has surpassed expectations. Not all who are forged in battle can be taught to sharpen instead of shatter."

Diko gave a respectful bow. "I appreciate the recognition..." He hesitated.

"But… I wanted to ask," Diko began. "There's talk of an expedition toward the Sacred Land. The old High Human territory. Rumors say it houses one of the sealed artifacts. What's the Academy's stance?"

Celathis glanced toward a slowly spinning world map behind her, marked with glowing mana routes and blinking dots.

"That mission in a region what you call Russia..." she said, "is still under research. Excavation teams are gathering data. There is no confirmation yet on the artifact's presence."

Diko narrowed his eyes. "And if there were?"

Celathis tilted her head. "Why would you be asking?"

He didn't answer.

She smiled slightly. "Ah, I see. You think the trio shouldn't be involved yet."

Diko remained silent.

Celathis returned her eyes to the map. "They won't be tasked with that kind of operation yet. It's fine, don't worry. I know their qualities better than most, they can fare enough to survive. Yet they are high-investment products that need more time. Time to mature. Time to be nurtured… until they're ready for proper use."

Diko forced a smile. "Understood."

He turned and walked toward the door. The click of his boots echoed louder than expected.

Once outside, with the door closed, the smile dropped.

"'Proper 'use', huh?" he muttered. "What a prick."

He clenched his fist.

"How dare she look at my students like they're tools?"

Then he exhaled slowly and walked down the hall, eyes burning with a quiet resolve.

"They're not weapons. They're heroes."