After eating their fill, Ethan, Daniel, and Oliver made their way back to the cssroom, their footsteps slow and rexed from the satisfying meal.

  Ethan, however, didn’t share their carefree attitude. The moment they entered the room, his eyes swept the seats—specifically, the one usually occupied by Misha. Empty.

  He frowned.

  “She’s still not here…” he muttered, half to himself.

  Daniel caught the gnce and nudged him with a sly grin. “Aw, worried about your little princess already?”

  Oliver snickered beside him. “Is this where we start pnning the wedding? I’ll bring flowers.”

  Ethan rolled his eyes, flushing just slightly. “Shut up, both of you.”

  “He admits nothing,” Daniel said dramatically, “but his heart says everything.”

  “Seriously. Shut up.”

  The teasing faded just in time for the door to creak open—and in came their new professor, a rugged man with a long travel-worn coat and an explorer's backpack slung across his back. The moment he reached the teacher’s desk, he unceremoniously dropped the pack onto it with a heavy thud.

  Clink! Ctter! Thud!

  Out spilled all sorts of trinkets—compasses, rope, fire starters, folded maps, flint, water purification stones, and even something that looked suspiciously like a giant insect leg.

  “...Did he just bring half the wilderness with him?” Oliver whispered.

  The man turned to the css, completely unfazed by the mess he’d created. “Alright, listen up. I’m Professor Joren, and I’ll be handling your Geography css.”

  He gestured to the odd items on the desk. “Though around here, most folks call it Survival Css. And for good reason.”

  He started pacing slowly, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept across the students.

  “In this css, you’re going to learn what maps won’t teach you—how to stay alive. Because it doesn’t matter how powerful your magic is or how sharp your sword may be—none of that means anything if you die of dehydration in a desert or get eaten by wolves because you didn’t recognize the sound of their howl.”

  He gave the css a moment to let that sink in.

  “We’ll go over all kinds of biomes—pins, forests, swamps, mountains, deserts, tundra. You’ll learn how to find food, collect clean water, navigate by the stars, track animals, avoid poisonous pnts, and even build shelter with what’s around you. This knowledge is essential. Learn it well.”

  One student toward the back raised their hand. “Um, but Professor… can’t we just use magic to make water if we need it?”

  Joren nodded, as if expecting the question. “Good point. You can summon water—if you’re alone, if your mana pool is full, and if you don’t mind wasting energy that might be needed to keep you from becoming monster food an hour ter.”

  He gave the student a dry look. “Expeditions have many people—porters, researchers, nobles, civilians—most of whom can’t use magic. If you waste your mana just so someone can have a drink, then what are you going to do when you get ambushed?”

  Silence.

  Joren tapped a metal fsk on the desk.

  “Your magic is a tool, not an excuse to be ignorant. Use your head. Gather water from a stream, dig for a spring, learn to filter and purify—it’s not gmorous, but it’s what keeps you breathing.”

  He looked back at the scattered supplies.

  “And stly… knowing too much never killed anyone. Not knowing enough? That’s what gets people buried.”

  Ethan nodded slowly, impressed despite himself. This css might actually turn out to be more useful than he’d imagined.

  Professor Joren reached into his pack and pulled out a rge, worn map. With a flick of his wrist, he spped it against the bckboard, pinning it at the corners.

  “This,” he announced, “is our Kingdom.”

  The parchment stretched nearly across the entire board, its surface inked with sprawling forests, jagged mountain ranges, rivers that coiled like snakes, and patches of nd dotted with town names. Despite the sheer size of it, Ethan noticed something immediately.

  The number of settlements was... underwhelming.

  “Now,” Joren continued, “despite the nearly millennial existence of the Halt Kingdom, it’s not as rge or as poputed as you might think. Most of the nd? Wild. Untamed. Dangerous.”

  He pointed to a dense cluster of trees in the north. “Take this forest, for example. Officially, Kingdom property. In practice? Not a single road cuts through it. That pce is ruled by monsters, not men.”

  His finger moved south, to a wide swath of green. “This one too—located near the southern border. Looks peaceful, but it’s built atop an ancient battlefield. You know what that means.”

  “Undead…” someone whispered.

  Joren nodded grimly. “Right. The pce is crawling with them.”

  Next, he tapped the massive dark shape smack in the middle of the map. “And here—Mount Veyron. The spine of the Kingdom. Home to the Elder Dragons.”

  A collective murmur spread through the room.

  “Let me be clear—these three regions are what you’ll focus on this year. If you can learn how to survive in them, you’ll be well on your way to becoming a half-decent adventurer.”

  Ethan leaned forward in his seat, eyes fixed on the map. Something about it stirred a sense of familiarity. He compared it to the smaller, older map from History css. This one was nearly twice the size, yet had only a dozen more marked settlements.

  He scanned the far northwest, and—there.

  In a corner, tucked near the Kingdom’s edge, was a small name etched in faded ink: Valewood. His vilge.

  So it really was on the map, though barely.

  “Let’s begin with the northern forest,” Joren said, pointing again to the area closest to Ethan’s vilge. “Oldest forest in the Kingdom. Actually, older than the Kingdom itself. It survived the Demon King’s war over a thousand years ago.”

  His voice dropped, just slightly.

  “Now, the outer edge? Manageable. Low-tier monsters. Goblins, dire wolves, and the like. But go deeper—past the old ruins—and you’ll find yourself face-to-face with hydras in the swamp. Or worse.”

  He paused a beat before continuing.

  “Decades ago, the King funded twelve expeditions to push deeper into this forest. Only three made it back. Those survivors established the only vilges inside the green—Merrinhold, Bckroot, and Valewood.”

  Ethan blinked. Valewood. That was his home.

  A mix of pride and unease bubbled in Ethan’s chest.

  His parents had always warned him about the dangers of the forest—how no child should wander too deep, how even adults stuck to the familiar paths. But back then, he was fearless. A wild little cub with more courage than sense, convinced that the world was just a big pyground.

  Now, hearing Professor Joren’s words, learning that hydras nested deep in those woods, that only three out of twelve expeditions had survived…

  He couldn’t help but swallow hard.

  How am I even alive?

  Still, the memories of those early adventures refused to fade completely. The thrill of exploring the tall ferns and mossy rocks, the ughter echoing through the trees, the feel of bark under his fingers as he climbed trees just to see farther.

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  Those had been good days. Carefree days.

  But as he followed that line of thought, something shifted. A tug in the back of his mind.

  Wait... I wasn’t alone back then, was I?

  Yeah, there was always someone with him. Someone who held his hand when he crossed streams. Someone who dared him to climb higher. Someone who ran beside him, just as wild, just as fearless.

  His smile faltered.

  Who...?

  He strained to recall a face, a voice, anything—just a flicker of memory.

  But there was nothing.

  A void.

  No matter how hard he tried, it was like grasping smoke. The harder he chased it, the more it slipped through his fingers.

  Why… why can’t I remember?

  His brows furrowed. That sense of familiarity—that certainty that someone had been there—was undeniable.

  And yet... it was like they’d been erased.

  Not just forgotten.

  Removed.

  Joren moved on. “Now, the central mountains.”

  He tapped Mount Veyron again, knuckles rapping against the bckboard.

  “It’s both a blessing and a curse. The Elder Dragons keep out most rge-scale monster threats, acting like guardians of the Kingdom—whether they know it or not. But…” He leaned forward slightly. “They also treat the surrounding nds like a buffet. At least twice a month, ranches are raided. Dozen livestock gone in a blink.”

  “Can’t we stop them?” someone asked.

  “Stop a dragon?” Joren snorted. “What with? A stern warning?”

  A few chuckles broke out.

  “No, the Kingdom considers them natural disasters. Compensation is paid to those affected, but that’s it. Still, the mountain is rich in iron and gems. Old mines are scattered all over, and every year, fools with pickaxes and dreams go digging.”

  “And that’s where we come in,” he continued. “You’ll learn how to survive in those tunnels. How to avoid cave-ins. How to identify real veins from worthless rock. And most importantly—how to run when you hear wings beating above.”

  A ripple of tension passed through the css.

  Joren pointed to the southern forest st. “And finally, the cursed woodnds atop the old battlefield. The nd itself is saturated in death mana. Corpses don’t stay buried there—they rise.”

  A student gulped audibly.

  “Regur undead raids are organized to cull their numbers. Easy money for those brave enough to sign up. And some of you will. Which is why we’ll cover techniques to survive, purify, and if you’re skilled enough—turn the undead’s weakness into your advantage.”

  Joren stepped back, arms crossed.

  “That’s all for today. Just an introduction to your battlefield.”

  He eyed the css seriously. “Start thinking like survivors. Think about firewood, water, food, shelter. Mana won’t solve every problem out there—and ignorance definitely won’t save your life.”

  He turned and began rolling up the map.

  Css was dismissed.

  Ethan sat quietly for a few moments, still staring at the now-empty bckboard. The mention of his vilge lingered in his mind.

  I wonder if everybody back home is safe…

  That night, after the lights in the hallway dimmed and the soft murmur of the dormitory faded into quiet, Ethan sat at the small desk by his bed. The window beside him framed the moonlit sky, stars blinking gently above the Academy grounds. He lit the small oil mp on the desk, pulled out a piece of parchment, and began to write.

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  How are you two doing? I hope the crops are growing well and the animals aren’t giving you too much trouble. I miss your cooking, Mom—and Dad, I promise I’ve been waking up early, even without your shouting (well, most days…).

  I just wanted to let you know that I’ve officially enrolled in the Adventurer Academy. I passed the entrance exams—barely—and I’m now a full-time student. I probably won’t be coming back for a while, so please don’t worry. I’m doing fine.

  The school is... overwhelming. Big halls, strange people, endless lessons. But I’ve already made a couple of friends—Daniel and Oliver. They’re good guys. The csses are tough but really interesting. We’ve had lessons on mana manipution, history, survival, and even monster biology! I’ve learned more in the past few weeks than I did in years back home.

  Oh, and before I forget—I won the bet! Tell the guys back in the vilge that next time I come home, they better keep their promise! I want to see their faces when they admit defeat!

  There’s one thing I’ve been wondering though. Lately, I’ve been remembering those days when I used to sneak into the forest. You always scolded me for going too far, but I can’t help but smile thinking about it now.

  I could’ve sworn… someone used to go with me. I have this strange feeling—like there was always someone at my side. Someone who ughed with me, climbed trees with me, helped me out of the mud… But no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember their face.

  Do you remember anything about that? Was I always alone? Or… was there someone?

  Anyway, I should probably sleep soon. Csses start early tomorrow and the professors here are no joke.

  Take care of yourselves, and don’t let the hens into the house again. (Yes, I’m talking to you, Dad.)

  With love,Your son, Ethan

  He folded the letter carefully and sealed it in an envelope. Tomorrow, he’d drop it off at the mail office on campus.

  For now, he leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window.

  Who were you...?

  But no answer came. Just the gentle glow of the moon, and the soft whisper of the wind.