Chapter 53: A Coffee Before Hell
The hall echoed like a cathedral of living stone.
At its center, the obsidian throne looked as if it had grown from the ground itself, carved from the heart of an ancient volcano. Ka’ha’Uhala sat upon it—straight, radiant, her golden eyes fixed on the crowd of students. Around her, Headmistress Sahr’Veyra and several draconic commanders watched in silence, their expressions stern. Even the faintest breath felt forbidden.
Banners hanging from the vaults fluttered in a wind that came from nowhere. The air smelled of dust, iron, and old authority.
Hundreds of students, gathered by club, stood in disciplined circles around the grand hall.
The Azure Pact stood to my right.
Reina, impassive. Sylvara, focused. Hikari, already tense. Miyu, nervous... and me, hands clasped behind my back, unable to stop the faint smile that rose to my lips.
We’d known this day would come.
The princess rose. Her voice cut through the air.
— Heroes of the Academy, theory has reached its end. You’ve learned to channel, to build, to survive within these walls. Now, you will learn to fight for real.
A murmur rippled through the ranks, quickly stifled.
I felt the tension spread like a wave. Some students paled. Others straightened, filled with pride.
Me, I was strangely calm.
Ka’ha’Uhala unrolled a runic parchment, its symbols lighting up as she spoke.
— The next six months will be devoted to practice. Each club will be sent into a series of A- or B-rank dungeons scattered across the continent. Your missions: exploration, reconnaissance, securing zones, and threat elimination. Instructors and support units will be deployed to observe your performance... but no direct assistance will be allowed. You are the heroes of tomorrow. And heroes are forged in fire, not in hallways.
Her words struck—sharp, precise.
She didn’t need to raise her voice; each syllable vibrated down to the bone.
I saw several students exchange uneasy looks. Some were already trembling at the thought of facing a dungeon without a safety net.
Me, I felt as if someone had finally opened my cage.
Six months on the field.
Six months to get my hands dirty, to break my bones, to finally feel what the mana running through my veins was truly worth.I knew what it meant—pain, maybe death... but also a chance. A real one.
I couldn’t stay stuck here, reciting theorems about mana structure while Sarhael was still out there somewhere—waiting, or sinking deeper into shadow. I had to move forward. And for that, there was no better place than the fire.
Finally.
Finally, something that brought me closer to the power I needed.
When the princess left the hall, the silence lingered behind her like a heat no one dared to breathe yet.
Hours later, we were all gathered in the club room—maps spread out, coffee cups already empty—ready to understand just how much these six months would drain us.
The room smelled of black coffee and fresh ink.
On the table, maps piled up, covered in hastily scribbled notes: mana landmarks, rest zones, routes crossed out and redrawn three times. Reina, straight as an arrow, held an official file in her hands. Her gaze slid across the lines with that concentration I sometimes envied.
— So... here’s the plan, she said softly.
Six months of expeditions, A- to B-rank dungeons. No exact count of the total, but enough to keep us busy until year’s end.
She looked up at us.
— This isn’t a test of power. It’s a test of endurance, of strategy. The goal is simple: keep the pace without collapsing.
I crossed my arms, leaning over the maps.
— So we just have to survive six months without losing our minds. Easy.
Miyu, sitting beside me, let out a small laugh.
— You always use the word "easy" for impossible stuff.
— I like to stay optimistic, I replied. It makes it sound like I know what I’m doing.
Sylvara, as usual, stayed silent for a moment before speaking.
— Rest will matter more than combat, she said calmly. If we treat every dungeon like a war, we’ll lose before we reach halfway.
She placed a hand on the map, tracing the sequence of sites with her finger.
— We’ll have to learn to pace ourselves, to hand off the lead. Endurance also means knowing when to stop.
Ayame nodded slowly.
— And for that, we’ll need clear discipline. Guard shifts, mana management, enforced sleep hours.
She shot me a look.
— Even for you, Kaito.
I shrugged, mock-offended.
— I sleep just fine... once every three days.
— Exactly what I’m trying to avoid, sighed Reina without looking up.
To my right, Kaelthys studied the map with the expression of someone already constructing a grand plan.
— We can’t improvise forever, he said. If one of us collapses, the whole group follows.
He looked up.
— I can set up a maneuver rotation: two alternating teams, one offensive, one in recovery.
Talyra mimed a slow clap.
— Look at him, already turning us into a war machine.
She smiled, then added more seriously:
— But he’s not wrong. If we burn out in the first month, we won’t make it to the sixth.
— That’s exactly the point of the exercise, Reina interjected.
She flipped a page in her file, already jotting down schedules.
— The Princess probably wants to see who can think long-term. Those who rush in without a plan will break before the end.
Kairen, arms crossed against the wall, let out a tired laugh.
— I think I’d rather fight beasts than deal with you and your insight, Reina.
— Both will kill you if you act stupid, Reina shot back instantly.
He raised his hands, mock surrendering.
— Message received.
Lyss, who had been scribbling in a notebook the whole time, finally looked up.
— I’ll need to redo the entire inventory. The recovery potions we have won’t last six months. And I refuse to treat anyone with an experimental mix... again.
— "Again"? Luno arched a brow.
She merely shrugged.
— It worked perfectly last time. Almost.
Her calm was both reassuring and unsettling.
Erius spoke with a soldier’s precision.
— We’ll need a logistical structure. I’ll handle mapping and relay points. If we track our paths, we can anticipate high-risk zones.
Rynelle, leaning against a shelf, had been watching without intervening. When Reina mentioned the northern dungeons, she finally leaned forward slightly.
— Sylphid dungeons are tricky. Not because of the monsters, but the illusions. We’ll need to avoid overly rigid formations.
— Speaking from experience? I asked.
— Let’s just say I learned not to follow shadows, she answered simply.
The silence that followed was brief, but not awkward. Just the kind of respectful quiet given to someone who’s seen what others only imagine.
Reina finally set the papers down, hands clasped.
— Good. I think we have the start of a plan.
She swept the room with her gaze.
— It won’t be easy. We’ll get on each other’s nerves, we’ll argue, we’ll lose sleep. But if we listen to each other, we’ll make it.
My gaze drifted across each of them.
Hikari—focused but anxious. Miyu—already muttering about hating damp crypts. Sylvara—upright and calm, almost too calm. The six humans—attentive, quiet, already fitting into the rhythm. Reina, of course—always in control, always on the brink of exhaustion, but too proud to show it. And Ayame, true to herself, stayed slightly apart. Not out of disinterest—no, more like she was doing it on purpose, since the day we arrived at the Academy. As if she wanted to let us—the new generation—take the space, fight our battles, grow at our own pace.
I leaned against the table, arms crossed.
— So that’s what we’ll do, I said. We move forward, we adapt, we sleep when we can, we argue a little, but we hold till the end.
A smile tugged at my lips.
— And if, at the end, there’s still a piece of us standing... we’ll go have a real coffee. One that doesn’t taste like ashes, for once.
Miyu raised her half-empty cup.
— Deal. But you’re paying.
— Of course, I sighed. It’s always me.
The laughter was quiet but genuine. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to break the tension. For a few seconds, the room no longer felt like a command center, but what it truly was: a group of people about to fight together—and try to stay human in the middle of chaos.
Six months of dungeons.
Six months of blood, dust, and sleepless nights.
Six months spent walking through ruins that breathed like dying beasts, through corridors where mana itself whispered to drive you mad.
Six months of watching friends break, heal, and rise again. Of arguments that would cut deeper than blades, and laughter that would keep us alive when everything else failed.
We would bleed, freeze, burn, starve. We would curse the Academy, curse the gods, curse ourselves. And maybe—just maybe—we would come out stronger.
The thought should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt something different.
A pulse.
A hunger.
That raw, burning certainty that the world was finally about to stop holding back.
Six months of hell ahead. And for the first time in a long while... I felt ready to meet it.