A Gamble

Roy leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Denwen fumble with the small, sleek-looking device in his hands.

"Bro, are you seriously doing this? What if you get caught?" Roy hissed, eyes darting around the dimly lit storage hall.

Denwen, unbothered, tugged off his academy-issued uniform, replacing it with a much plainer set of clothes—a simple dark tunic and slacks that made him blend in with the common workers. He pressed a button on the small device around his neck, and his features twisted as if melting like wax, reforming into someone else entirely. His striking black hair dulled to an unremarkable brown, his deep eyes faded into a muted hazel, and his overall sharpness softened into complete mediocrity.

Roy frowned. "Damn… you actually look like background filler."

"Perfect, then," Denwen grinned, adjusting his collar. "Now, if anyone asks, I was in my room all night, studying my very important books. That's where my Grade A buddy comes in. Just cover for me, and everything will be fine." He clapped Roy's shoulder confidently.

Roy sighed, already regretting this. "Yeah, yeah. But tell me, genius, how do you expect that cheap trick to fool the professors, or, I don't know, the dozens of security measures around the academy?"

Denwen smirked. "Simple. You are my golden ticket out of here."

Roy rolled his eyes. "And your way back in?"

"Well…" Denwen plucked a single strand of Roy's blonde hair.

"Ow! The hell, man?" Roy winced before realization hit him. "Wait, are you planning on impersonating me!?"

Denwen flashed a sly grin. "Bingo. This device isn't just a disguise; it can replicate essence signatures with a sample. If anyone scans me, they'll think I'm the mighty Roy."

Roy groaned. "This is a terrible idea."

"Correction: This is a calculated risk—which is way cooler than a dumb idea."

Together, they slipped out of their hiding spot, seamlessly blending into the sea of students flooding the walkways. Roy took the lead, his natural charisma making it easy to divert attention away from Denwen. He smiled and waved at passing students, a few girls giggling and whispering excitedly at his presence, while Denwen kept his head low, playing the part of an unremarkable extra in the grand stage of the academy.

As they neared one of the lesser-used entrances—a supply gate often used for restocking provisions—Roy's nerves flared up. "Look, I still think this is dumb, but at least tell me there's no—"

"Oh no."

Roy's sentence died in his throat as he spotted her.

A tall woman stood near the gate, engaged in a casual conversation with a supply carriage driver. She was effortlessly elegant, her raven-black hair cascading down her shoulders. Even with her eyes perpetually shut behind her signature glasses, there was an aura of absolute awareness about her.

Miss Agrona.

The academy's mana control instructor.

The Rank 3 mana control instructor.

Denwen immediately tugged on Roy's sleeve, whispering harshly, "Abort mission. I repeat—abort mission!"

Roy nodded rapidly. "Agreed. New plan: get the hell out of here."

But just as they turned to slink away—

She vanished.

And then, a heartbeat later—

She was in front of them.

Her arrival was completely silent, but her presence alone was enough to stop their hearts for a second. She stood with a calm smile, fingers gently adjusting the edge of her glasses.

Denwen's soul nearly left his body. "Oh no. I completely forgot Miss Agrona was ridiculously fast…"

Roy swallowed hard. "Welp. It was nice knowing you, buddy."

Agrona tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Oh my, what do we have here?" Her voice was soft, almost sweet, but somehow, it sent a chill down their spines.

She turned toward Roy first, her glasses gleaming. "Roy, dear, you seem to be keeping questionable company."

Denwen, still masked by his disguise, stiffened under her invisible pressure.

"Uhm, Miss Agrona, I promise you this isn't what it looks like," Roy stammered, his usual smoothness cracking.

Denwen was about to jump in, throw some weak excuse into the mix—

And then, she laughed.

"Hahahaha! Oh, you should have seen your faces!" She giggled, covering her mouth as if she had just heard the most amusing joke.

Denwen and Roy blinked. "Huh?"

Miss Agrona straightened, her laughter subsiding. "That's a very impressive disguise, young man. Unfortunately for you…" she leaned forward ever so slightly, her smile widening just a fraction, "...you met me."

Denwen felt his stomach drop.

She began listing all the possible punishments they could face—halving their weekly essence core allowance, suspension, a public disciplinary hearing—each sentence draining more color from their faces.

Roy whispered, "We're screwed."

Denwen was already calculating how fast he could run.

Then—

"I'm going to allow it."

Silence.

"...Huh?" The boys blinked in unison.

Agrona smiled again, though there was a mischievous glint behind her glasses. "What, did you think we teachers never did this kind of thing? Please, we had our moments. The key difference is, we never got caught."

Roy and Denwen were still frozen in shock, unsure if this was a test or some kind of divine prank.

Her voice dropped slightly, her glowing purple irises visible through her glasses. "So, don't get caught.*"

A pulse of pure pressure radiated from her, the weight of a Rank 3 bearing down on them for just a fleeting second.

The boys nodded rapidly, stiffly swallowing in sync.

"Good boys," she said, her charming smile returning. "Now, get out of here before I change my mind."

Without hesitation, the two of them bolted, slipping past the supply gate faster than they ever thought possible.

As they vanished into the night, Agrona chuckled to herself, shaking her head.

"Ah… youth."

—-

Denwen barely glanced back as he sped away from the academy, his hoverbike assembling seamlessly from his wrist device. The sleek, dark-red vehicle hummed to life beneath him, its smooth contours gleaming under the sunlight as he engaged the acceleration. With a firm twist of the handles, he shot forward, the wind whipping against his body as the academy quickly became a blur in the distance.

After nearly an hour of high-speed travel, he finally arrived at his destination—the Fang Guild.

The guild wasn't just a simple building; it was a fortress of warriors, a towering structure of dark stone and reinforced metals. Its entrance was marked by massive iron gates, adorned with the sigil of a flaming wolf—a symbol of resilience and ferocity. Runes flickered faintly on the metal, a clear indication of magical reinforcements. Even the very walls of the guild carried scorch marks and deep claw grooves, remnants of battles fought within and outside these walls over the years.

A sprawling plaza stretched before the entrance, where hundreds of awakened and non-awakened alike moved with purpose. There was an overwhelming scent of metal, sweat, and mana-infused potions, mingling in the air with the occasional scent of roasted meat from nearby food stalls catering to exhausted hunters.

Denwen dismounted, swiftly collapsing his bike back into its wrist-bound form, a movement so fluid that it barely drew attention. His eyes scanned the guild's surroundings, taking in the sight of armored hunters, robed mages, and even a few beastkin mercenaries moving about in clusters. Some were boasting about their latest hunts, others were collecting rewards, and a few sat quietly in corners, sharpening their weapons with a grim, battle-worn air.

"Damn… there's way more awakened here than I expected," he muttered under his breath, impressed by the sheer volume of activity.

He took a step toward the guild's grand entrance, but before he could proceed, a figure approached him—a young woman in a crisp uniform, distinct from the hardened hunters around her. Her attire, a simple yet professional tunic marked with the guild's sigil, signified her role as one of the guild's many attendants. She walked with caution, her posture slightly hesitant but not timid, her eyes trained on him with a mix of curiosity and professionalism.

"Uhm… excuse me, esteemed awakened sir," she greeted, her voice careful, as if wary of offending. "Are you new here?"

Denwen raised a brow. "Yeah, but… how did you know I was an awakened?" He hadn't leaked a trace of his aura, and he was dressed in plain clothes, nothing that screamed hunter or mage.

The girl gave a small, knowing smile and tapped the device resting over one of her eyes—a single-lensed monocle-like glass that shimmered faintly. "Sir, if you notice, all workers here wear these."

Denwen's gaze flicked to the other attendants bustling around the guild. Sure enough, each of them had similar one-lens glasses, a contrast to the usual two-lens eyewear commonly worn in the city.

"This device helps us identify who is awakened and who isn't," she explained. "It prevents… certain mistakes from happening. You'd be surprised how many conflicts arose from wrong assumptions before we started using them. Of course, we can't see your exact rank—that would be considered rude."

Denwen smirked. "Interesting. So I can't pretend to be a normal civilian, huh?"

"Not within the guild, no," she chuckled, though there was a hint of relief in her tone. "You are here to register, I assume?"

Denwen nodded. "And let me guess—you're my guide?"

The girl blinked in slight surprise before nodding. "Yes, sir."

Denwen offered a polite bow. "Then lead the way. I'll be in your care."

The girl's eyes widened slightly—whether out of surprise or confusion, he wasn't sure. But for a brief moment, she faltered before quickly regaining her composure, motioning for him to follow.