Warden.

The trials continued.

Teams entered. Some succeeded. Some failed. Others barely crawled out.

Elias's team never came back.

Well, not together, at least. They scattered. Fled. As if simply existing in the same space as their former leader was enough to trigger a survival instinct.

Naturally, this led to a conversation.

"You traumatized them," Rael said.

"I trained them," Elias corrected.

"You broke them," Leon muttered.

Elias crossed his arms. "They lived."

Gale sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We're recruiting, not committing war crimes. Can you not destroy the mental stability of the next batch?"

Elias considered that. "…Willingly?"

"At all."

A pause.

"…I'll try."

It was the best they were going to get.

And so, with the understanding that Elias would at least attempt to restrain himself, Phase Two began.

* * *

[Phase Two] - [Rael's Team]

The dungeon entrance loomed ahead, a jagged ruin half-swallowed by nature. Thick vines curled around broken pillars, and the remnants of an ancient civilization lay in scattered stonework. Dim blue light filtered through the cracks above, casting eerie shadows.

Rael stood at the front, eyes scanning the group that had been assigned to him for this phase. They were a mix of different classes, all standing at attention, waiting for orders. Some looked eager. Others looked like they were hoping to survive.

He wasn't expecting much. The last batch had been… competent but unremarkable.

"Alright." He adjusted his grip on his sword. "Same as before. Tanks in front, supports in the middle, damage dealers on the flanks. Stay in formation, don't do anything stupid."

A round of nods. No objections.

The dungeon portal hummed as they stepped through.

The air inside was thick with dust and age. Towering stone walls lined the path ahead, fractured with deep cracks from time's slow erosion.

They moved in formation, progressing cautiously. Rael observed quietly, taking note of movement patterns, reactions, and decision-making.

The first wave of enemies appeared—skeletal warriors clad in rusted armor, their hollow eyes flaring with dull blue light.

"Tanks, engage," Rael ordered.

The frontline clashed immediately, shields meeting rusted blades with a dull clang. Magic surged from the backline—firebolts, arcane missiles, a burst of lightning. It was… fine. No one hesitated. No one panicked. But there was nothing that stood out.

Then—

A silver flash cut across his vision.

Rael's eyes flicked toward the movement.

A lone swordswoman weaved through the battlefield, katana slicing clean through two skeletal warriors in a single motion. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

Her stance was sharp. Efficient.

Rael's interest piqued.

He opened her profile.

[Takane – Swordsman]

…Just Swordsman?

Rael's eyes flicked over the status screen again. At this level, most players had already developed their own fighting styles, even if subclasses weren't available yet. But something about her setup felt… incomplete.

Her equipment was all visible—fine-quality armor, a solid katana—except for one thing.

Her handguards weren't listed.

Equipment visibility was up to the player, but why hide just those?

Before he could think further, another wave of enemies surged in.

Takane shifted into motion again, seamlessly intercepting an approaching skeletal knight. Her blade danced between its openings—one, two, three precise strikes—before the enemy crumbled into dust.

Rael adjusted his grip.

This might be interesting.

"Push forward," he ordered, stepping ahead.

The dungeon corridors stretched ahead, twisting into the ruins of what once might have been a temple. Cracked stone pillars lined the path, eerie blue flames flickering atop rusted sconces. The air was heavier here—thicker, like something was waiting.

Rael's team pressed forward, growing more comfortable after the first wave. The tanks were holding their own, the damage dealers were efficient, and the healers weren't scrambling.

Then came the next wave.

A trio of hulking, spectral knights emerged from the shadows, their translucent armor shimmering with cursed energy. Unlike the mindless skeletons from before, these moved with purpose—intelligent, aggressive.

Before Rael could issue an order, someone stepped forward.

"Stand back."

A voice—calm, confident.

A mage, tall and draped in fine robes, smirked as he adjusted his grip on his staff.

[SureArrow – Sorcerer]

His magic flared to life, golden energy condensing into a spear of pure force.

"These things are resistant to most elemental attacks," SureArrow said casually. "But my magic? Pure impact. No resistances."

He thrust his staff forward. The spear shot through the air, colliding with one of the knights.

A heavy boom echoed through the chamber.

The knight staggered back, its armor dented.

SureArrow grinned, eyes flicking toward the others. "See that?"

Another spear formed instantly in his grasp.

"Single-target magic is superior. No wasted energy. No inefficient spread. Just clean, direct eliminations."

With another thrust, he launched his second attack.

Rael watched, arms crossed.

SureArrow wasn't wrong. His magic was efficient. The force spears had solid damage and ignored elemental resistances. But there was a difference between strong and practical.

Burst damage meant nothing if you weren't versatile.

Takane stood nearby, silent, watching.

Rael didn't comment. He simply gave a short nod. "Keep going."

SureArrow smirked, clearly pleased with himself.

The fight wrapped up quickly after that, SureArrow landing a final spear that sent the last knight crashing into the ground, dissolving into mist. The team murmured among themselves, impressed.

SureArrow took a step back, spinning his staff once before resting it against his shoulder. "I think that proves enough."

Rael simply turned away. "Move forward."

As the team entered the mid-boss chamber, the Stonebound Golem stood at the center—an eight-foot-tall construct of ancient stone and rusted metal, its eyes burning with eerie blue light. The moment their presence was detected, cracks along its body pulsed with energy, and dust cascaded from its massive frame as it began to move.

The air grew tense.

SureArrow stepped forward, rolling his wrists, a small smirk on his face. "Alright, listen up." His voice was firm, confident. "This thing's big, but it's slow. The key here is overwhelming damage before it enters its second phase. Stick to my calls, and it won't even get the chance to swing twice."

Rael watched quietly from the back.

He's confident. Too confident.

SureArrow wasn't wrong—high burst damage was effective against slow, tanky enemies. The problem was assuming nothing would go wrong.

Still, Rael just nodded. "Go ahead. I'll observe."

The fight started.

SureArrow's magic struck first. Aether Lance. A compressed bolt of pure energy shot forward, slamming into the Golem's shoulder with pinpoint precision. The force cracked the stone plating, exposing the runic energy beneath.

"Focus fire on the weak point," SureArrow ordered.

The mages obeyed instantly, unleashing a barrage of spells. Fire, ice, and shadow clashed against the Golem's frame, deepening the fractures. The tanks moved in next, shields up, holding the line. The melee fighters followed, striking with sharp, controlled movements.

For the first minute, it was a flawless execution.

The Golem barely managed to raise its weapon before it was staggered by another barrage. Its swings were sluggish, predictable.

Textbook fight.

Then, the first mistake.

A rogue on the left flank hesitated for just a second before dodging an attack. It was minor—barely a delay—but it was enough to throw off positioning. One of the tanks had to shift slightly to compensate, and the formation lost a bit of its rhythm.

SureArrow clicked his tongue. "Come on, don't slack off."

His tone was sharp, not harsh—but there was an edge to it.

The rogue nodded quickly and adjusted. No major issue. The fight went on.

The Golem's health dropped below 50%. Its core pulsed brighter, and it let out a low, rumbling sound—the signal for Phase Two.

SureArrow reacted instantly. "Tanks, be ready for aggro shift. Mages, increase burst damage!"

A solid call.

But then—the Golem didn't follow its normal pattern.

Instead of attacking the front line, it twisted unnaturally, pivoting mid-motion and lunged straight at the backline.

Its massive arm came crashing down.

"Shit—Cleric, reposition! Tanks, re-engage now!" SureArrow barked.

The cleric barely managed to escape the attack, stumbling backward. The tanks scrambled to adjust. For a few seconds, the fight was chaotic—people moving out of sync, some reacting late, others overcompensating.

But they recovered. No one went down.

The Golem's attack pattern stabilized again.

A few minutes later, it collapsed into dust.

SureArrow flicked his wrist, looking satisfied. "Told you. Burst magic works every time."

Rael gave a small nod. "Yeah. Solid calls."

But in his mind, he was already analyzing.

Good leader. Quick reactions.

But when things don't go his way…

SureArrow had adjusted fast. But Rael had seen the way his jaw clenched when the Golem changed patterns. The way his commands got sharper. How his voice had the slightest hint of frustration.

* * *

As they pushed deeper into the ruins, SureArrow naturally took control. His voice carried over the group, directing them through encounters with calculated efficiency.

"Clear the ranged enemies first. Focus fire on the spellcasters."

"Tank, stop overextending. If you step too far ahead, you're making the healers work overtime."

"Rogue, reposition—don't stand in the AoE zone!"

His calls were fast, precise. The team followed without question. Even Rael had to admit that, on the surface, SureArrow looked like a strong leader.

But Rael wasn't just looking at the surface.

He stayed back, watching the flow of combat. Most enemies were animated constructs—hollow suits of armor, wraithlike figures drifting through the halls, remnants of whatever force had once defended this ruin. They weren't difficult to deal with. The group's coordination was decent, and SureArrow kept them moving.

Yet, there were cracks.

A minor mistake from someone—a rogue missing a backstab, a healer misjudging timing, a mage stepping half a second late—and SureArrow's tone would shift, his frustration barely concealed. He didn't yell, didn't curse, but there was something rigid about him. He expected perfection.

And when he didn't get it, his patience thinned.

Rael glanced at Takane.

She was still following orders exactly as given. Her movements were crisp, precise—but nothing remarkable. No wasted effort, but no moments of brilliance either.

She's holding back.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe she was just being cautious, maybe she didn't see a reason to go all out. Either way, she blended into the group, not standing out in any way beyond her efficiency.

A pack of Hollow Knights emerged from a crumbled corridor, their rusted weapons raised in a silent charge.

SureArrow reacted instantly. "Tanks, form up. DPS, stagger your attacks—don't let them retaliate at the same time!"

The group obeyed. The tanks locked the knights down, the melee fighters struck in quick succession, the mages blasted from the back. It was textbook.

And yet—Rael was getting bored.

Everything was moving smoothly, but nothing was interesting.

His eyes drifted to Takane again.

How long are you planning to stay in the background?

Rael exhaled through his nose, shifting his grip on his sword. He had half a mind to start pushing the pace himself, but before he could act—

The ruins trembled.

A deep, metallic groan reverberated through the walls, dust cascading from the cracked ceiling. The air grew thick, oppressive.

Then, the chamber ahead split open. Stone ground against stone as ancient doors, carved with faded sigils, dragged apart to reveal a towering, armored figure within.

[Ancient Warden ]

Its body was a fusion of rusted metal and spectral energy, a colossal knight wrapped in decayed ceremonial armor. Its hollow eyes flickered with a deep, sunken light, a phantom echo of its past duty. The air around it wavered with raw pressure.

SureArrow's voice rang out immediately.

"Final boss! Positions—NOW!"

The team scrambled into formation, tanks forward, DPS in the middle, healers at the back.

Rael just watched.

The Warden raised its sword—an enormous, jagged greatblade that looked half-corroded but carried a weight that made the air feel heavy. It moved.

The ground cracked beneath its first step.

SureArrow took command instantly. "Tank, hold aggro! Mages, stagger your spells—don't burn cooldowns too early!"

Good calls. But Rael could already see the problem.

The Warden wasn't like the previous enemies. It wasn't just a bigger, stronger version of what they had fought before. It adapted. It reacted.

And SureArrow… wasn't built for that.

At first, things went well.

The tank locked it down, taking the brunt of its strikes. The melee fighters chipped away, and the mages rained fire from a distance. The Warden's health steadily dropped.

Then—the pattern changed.

The Warden raised its sword high, then slammed it into the ground. The entire floor shifted, rippling like a disturbed lake. A pulse of force erupted outward, throwing everyone off-balance.

SureArrow hesitated. "What—!?"

A second attack followed immediately—a sweeping horizontal strike. The tank barely blocked it in time, his stance breaking from the sheer force.

Rael narrowed his eyes.

This is where it begins.

SureArrow clenched his jaw. "Adjust positions! Healers, recover—DPS, don't let up!"

But Rael could see it now—the cracks widening.

SureArrow's orders became sharper. Faster. More forceful.

He masked it well, but Rael had seen this before. When things stopped going exactly according to plan, when small mistakes piled up—he started panicking.

A rogue mistimed an attack. A healer hesitated on a cast.

SureArrow snapped, "Don't delay! We're losing momentum!"

Another tremor. The Warden shifted again—its sword dissolving into a spectral chain that lashed out across the battlefield.

The formation broke.

A knight was sent sprawling. A mage barely dodged, his spell fizzling mid-cast.

SureArrow's voice was sharp now. "Tank, get back in position! We need control!"

But the tank was still recovering. And the Warden wasn't waiting.

Rael's fingers tightened around his sword.

It's falling apart.

The Warden prepared its finishing move—its greatblade reforming, spectral energy coiling around it. If it landed, the fight would be over.

Rael sighed, about to step in—

Then, something changed.

A ripple in the air.

A shift in the battlefield.

Takane moved.

It wasn't just speed—it was something else.

For the first time, Rael's eyes sharpened.

Her sword—no, something above her sword—flickered.

A second shape. Translucent. Faint. Like an illusory blade mirroring her weapon's edge.

And then—

She struck.

The battlefield was silent for a moment. Then, the Warden's shattered weapon flared with ghostly embers, its form stitching itself back together. Not fully, not cleanly—but enough to keep fighting.

Its body convulsed. The second phase had begun.

SureArrow was the first to react. "Regroup! We finish this now!"

The team hesitated—only slightly—but Rael caught it. They weren't looking at SureArrow anymore. Their eyes kept flicking to Takane.

SureArrow noticed, too. His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Not yet.

The Warden lurched forward, faster than before. Its movements were erratic now, almost desperate, but its attacks hit harder. A wide sweep sent the frontline tanks skidding back, shields rattling.

"Hold the line!" SureArrow barked. "Mages, keep staggering your casts! We're not overlapping cooldowns again!"

Rael observed. The plan was sound. The team fell back into formation, recovering from the shift in pacing.

Then the Warden shifted again.

This time, instead of another brute-force attack, it vanished. A blink. No, not teleportation—just sheer, blinding speed.

Rael's eyes darted up. Above.

"Move—!"

Too late.

The Warden crashed into the formation, scattering the party like leaves in a storm. Shields clanged against the ground. A mage tripped over their own footing. The rogue was barely standing, bleeding out from an earlier mistake.

SureArrow's voice snapped like a whip. "Regroup! Hold formation!"

But the team was crumbling.

One of the tanks hesitated a second too long. The Warden's next strike slammed into his shield, sending him skidding backward. A healer fumbled a spell, missing their target.

SureArrow's jaw clenched. He adjusted—his instincts were good, but his anger bled into his voice. "I said, focus!"

Takane moved before the command even finished.

Not alone. With the team.

She stepped in, her katana flashing as she covered for a struggling vanguard. One precise cut, redirecting an incoming strike just enough for the tank to recover.

The mage, SureArrow's earlier misfire, took the chance to cast again—this time landing a burst of flame against the Warden's exposed flank.

The rogue, barely on his feet, followed up with a desperate lunge. The Warden twisted away, but not cleanly.

Now.

Rael's gaze sharpened. The momentum was shifting.

The Warden howled and raised its weapon high—preparing a devastating overhead cleave that would end the fight.

Takane moved first.

Not breaking formation. Not acting alone.

She was just there.

A clean step. A fluid motion. Her katana met the Warden's descending blade mid-strike.

The impact cracked the ground, sending tremors through the battlefield.

A second shape, faint as drifting petals, unfurled in the air. Translucent, ephemeral—like a blade woven from falling blossoms, mirroring her katana's arc.

And then—she moved.

Not a strike, but a dance—fluid, effortless, as if the wind itself carried her blade. The illusory petals swirled in her wake, tracing the motion of her blade as it carved through the air.

The Warden staggered again. Spectral cracks spread across its armor, the impact forcing it back.

Not dead. Not yet.

But hurt.

Rael barely registered the murmurs, the glances exchanged between the team. His focus was locked on her.

The glow faded. The illusion vanished.

Interesting.

* * *

The dungeon's shimmering exit portal pulsed softly as Rael stepped through. The cool evening air hit him immediately—a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere inside. He ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts still on the fight.

SureArrow had potential, but his leadership had crumbled under pressure. Takane… she was something else entirely. The illusory sword, the way she moved when she stopped holding back. He still didn't know what exactly she had done, but it was clear she was nowhere near her limit.

Stepping onto the worn stone path outside, he caught sight of Elias.

Of course, he was already here. First, as always.

Elias leaned against the nearest tree, arms crossed, his rapier hanging loosely at his side. His gaze flicked over as Rael approached, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Second place? Must've been a rough run."

Rael snorted. "Your entire team ran away."

Elias shrugged, utterly unbothered. "They'll recover. Eventually."

Rael sighed. Typical.

The rest of his team was still stepping out behind him, the portal rippling as they emerged one by one. SureArrow looked visibly frustrated—probably replaying his mistakes. The others were more subdued, some stretching, some talking in low voices.

Then Takane walked through.

Her posture was relaxed, but Rael could tell she was gauging the reactions around her. Testing the waters.

She wasn't the only one getting looks. SureArrow was, too. But his were different. His performance had been strong, but his mistakes had been noticed. Rael could already see it—he knew he had lost his grip.

Takane, on the other hand, had just put herself on the map.

Rael filed that away.

He had two names to think about now.