The next day at the auditorium, silence followed Principal Elena's entrance—unnatural, tense, expectant.
She walked to center stage with unhurried steps, each click of her heels echoing sharply across the polished marble floor. As she reached the podium, her gaze swept over the sea of students—sharp, unwavering.
She didn't need to demand attention. She already had it.
Then she spoke—her voice clear, calm, and firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.
"I hope you were all briefed about the Wilderness Survival Training Program."
A faint murmur rippled through the crowd. Elena didn't acknowledge it.
"This year, as in every other, all students will be sent into the Wilderness for a duration of thirty days. This is a core part of your assessment."
Her tone remained even, but the weight behind her words settled like lead.
"Freshers, your teachers should have already explained the basics. Second-years and above—you know the drill. But allow me to make the rules crystal clear for everyone, once again."
She paused. The air seemed to tighten.
Then, one by one, she began listing the regulations—each word enunciated with cold precision.
"First and foremost: survive. You are free to act as you wish inside the Wilderness, but you must endure the full thirty days. If, for any reason, you return to the city before that period ends—your assessment ends there as well."
A few students exchanged uneasy glances.
"You will still retain any points you've earned," she continued, "but you will no longer be eligible to gain more."
"Points are awarded based on monster kills. The stronger the monster, the greater the points. Each of you will receive a magic watch. It will track your vitals and automatically monitor your performance."
She paused for just a breath, then her voice hardened.
"This next part is non-negotiable: no internal fighting. You are not permitted to fight, harm, or sabotage any other student of the academy. Doing so will result in severe disciplinary action. No exceptions."
"If you encounter a Dungeon or Labyrinth during your exploration, you must immediately notify a supervising teacher and obtain permission before entering. Unauthorized entry will result in instant disqualification."
"You may form groups—up to six members. These groups must be officially registered to share or divide points. Unofficial groups will not be recognized. You have until this afternoon to submit your group details to your class instructors. After that, all groups will be locked in."
Alex sat in silence as others whispered urgently to their seatmates. His expression remained neutral, but his mind was already turning—analyzing, planning.
Principal Elena wasn't finished.
"There will be drones deployed throughout the Wilderness to monitor your activities. Teachers will be stationed at specific checkpoints for emergency support."
Then she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"However... if a teacher is forced to intervene on your behalf—or if you request their help—your assessment will end immediately."
Then her final words rang out—sharp and resolute: "The Wilderness is dangerous. Accidents will happen. Prepare accordingly—and prove yourselves."
Before stepping down from the stage, Principal Elena cast one last glance across the auditorium.
"If any of you have doubts or need clarification," she said—her voice steady, though just a shade softer now—"you may consult your respective teachers after this. Don't hesitate. Better to ask now than regret it later."
A few murmurs stirred from the fresher section. Most were wide-eyed, whispering nervously among themselves, clearly overwhelmed by the prospect of surviving a month in the wild. Some glanced around, half-expecting someone braver to raise a hand first.
The senior students, in contrast, remained still—silent, composed, already preparing themselves mentally. They'd done this before. They knew what was coming.
Seeing no hands raised, Elena gave a small nod.
"Very well. Then I'll say this only once—everyone is to assemble tomorrow at the academy's main gates. The buses will depart at exactly 7 a.m. If you're late, you will be left behind." Then she turned and walked off the stage with her usual graceful stride.
Only when the auditorium doors closed behind her did the invisible pressure lift. The room erupted into motion and noise.
Students began rising from their seats, voices overlapping in a rising tide of conversation. Groups began to form—or finalize—with practiced efficiency. Some students moved confidently, already knowing who their teammates would be.
Others lingered, looking around with uncertain eyes, unsure of who to approach… or whether they'd even be chosen at all.
◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆ ◇ ◆
The clamor of the auditorium faded into the background as Alex stepped outside, his thoughts already drifting toward tomorrow.
Group formation had begun a week ago. Back then, most students—especially the seniors—had rushed to lock in their teams. Teachers handed out the forms, and many groups were finalized within the first few days. Some second and third years even went scouting for promising first years.
It wasn't a secret—the Wilderness was dangerous. Deaths weren't rare. Forming a party of at least three to four members was strongly recommended for safety. Still, that didn't stop the lone wolves from trying to solo it. Any group larger than six was automatically disqualified—too disruptive, too imbalanced for a fair assessment.
Naturally, most magic students grouped with fellow mages, while knight students formed their own combat units. The divide between the two paths showed itself here as well, though exceptions existed—especially among the Elite and Advanced classes.
Homogenous groups weren't fully balanced. Elite-class knights occasionally grouped with magic class students… and every now and then, even an Advanced-class student got lucky enough to be invited.
For a while, though, Alex had simply vanished.
After his sudden transfer from the Failure class to the Advanced class, curiosity around him surged. But soon, the buzz faded. Students moved on, assuming it had all been a fluke… or some behind-the-scenes manipulation.
That is—until a few days ago.
His victory over Claude had reignited the conversation. Alex was back in the spotlight.
Suddenly, invitations poured in. Groups that had finalized their rosters miraculously found room for "one more"—him. Even some upperclassmen approached him with half-smiles and shallow pleasantries, expecting him to be flattered just to be noticed.
Alex declined every single one.
Not rudely—just calmly. A faint smile, a few well-chosen words, and he'd walk away before anyone could press further.
But that didn't stop the rumors from mutating again—this time, with sharper teeth.
"Who does he think he is?"
"Acting all high and mighty now? Tch."
"Hope he gets shredded out there. Serves him right if he dies alone."
But Alex had his reasons. Simple, calculated reasons.
He couldn't use magic in front of others.
This training course, however, was an opportunity—perfect for fighting monsters, gathering resources, and farming points.
Soloing the Wilderness might seem suicidal to most, but for him? B-rank monsters were nothing more than meat on a cutting board.
That was when Aurora made a quiet suggestion.
"You could take Sherry." she said—her voice echoing gently in his mind. "She already knows your secret. She can support you. You trust her… and she trusts you."
Sherry wasn't a front-line fighter—timid, soft-spoken, and far more comfortable with ink than blood. She hadn't even planned on going.
Thanks to her research credentials and rare expertise, she'd been granted an official exemption. Students like her were more valuable in labs and libraries than bleeding out in the wild. The Wilderness Survival Program might be labeled "mandatory," but there were always exceptions.
And Sherry had been perfectly content with that decision. Spending thirty days away from her books, her quiet routines, and her magical research? That sounded like a nightmare. She'd already envisioned how much progress she could make in that time—how many new theories she could test, undisturbed.
But then Alex had asked her to come.
No dramatic speech. No pressure. Just a quiet request, paired with that familiar, sincere look in his eyes.
And just like that… her carefully structured plan unraveled.
She agreed. Without hesitation.
The words had left her lips before her mind could catch up. Maybe it was the way he asked. Maybe it was something deeper—some quiet yearning within her, tired of hiding in the shadows of her own world.
Or maybe… it was simply because it was Alex who asked.
And so, a new and unexpected duo was formed—just the two of them. An unlikely pair in the eyes of the academy, perhaps. But for them… it felt right.