The field was alive with dust and clashing steel, the sun casting long shadows as the spar reached its peak. Bruce stood before Julius, sweat pouring down his face, muscles tight, arms trembling under the pressure of a superior opponent. The weight of every strike Julius delivered was immense, like being hammered by a landslide—but still, Bruce held his ground.
Their blades locked again, the force of it pushing Bruce back an inch.
"Impressive," Julius muttered, eyes narrowing with genuine interest. "You've lasted longer than I expected. But—" he suddenly twisted, disarming Bruce with a flick of his wrist and tossing him aside like a sack of potatoes, "—it's still not enough."
Bruce grunted as he hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him, but a stubborn grin remained on his face. "You still talk too much..."
Before he could get up, Julius vanished.
Yulli barely had time to react.
Julius was already in front of him, blade flashing. They clashed—metal against metal, mana crackling with the force of their blows. Julius's strikes had changed. They were heavier now, sharper. His playful air was gone, replaced by calculated intensity.
He's serious now, Yulli realized, struggling to keep pace. This isn't like before! His strikes—
Julius spun mid-air, slipping past Yulli's guard and striking him square in the back with the hilt of his blade. Yulli hit the ground with a grunt, gasping for air.
Before anyone could react, Julius locked in on Lawlet.
"One left."
Lawlet, wide-eyed, began to fire. Mana-infused bullets zipped toward Julius like bolts of lightning, but each one missed. Julius dodged effortlessly, weaving through them like they were falling leaves.
"Damn it! He's too fast!" Lawlet growled, heart pounding in his chest.
Julius closed the gap in an instant, blade raised high.
"Well? Gonna waste all your mana again?" Julius mocked, smirking.
Lawlet's eyes narrowed. "Not a chance!"
At the last second, he reached into his pouch and yanked out a handful of gunpowder, slamming his mana-charged palm into it. A spark ignited—then an explosion roared between them. Smoke and flames burst outward, sending dirt flying. Julius was forced to backflip away, his coat singed at the edges.
Julius landed cleanly and dusted off his shoulder. "Using your own hand as a detonator… bold move." He chuckled. "A last-ditch effort, huh?"
His smile faded slightly as he locked eyes with Remi.
The air thickened. Mana radiated from Julius like a crushing wave of heat. The pressure was suffocating, a dense aura that forced the very air from their lungs. Even the ground beneath them seemed to groan under the weight.
Remi staggered, knees trembling. Her instincts screamed at her to fall, to run—to close her eyes and hope for the best.
But she didn't.
She gritted her teeth and raised her head, fists clenched tightly.
Julius quirked a brow. "Oh? Not scared this time?"
"Terrified," Remi admitted, her voice shaking but steady. "But I'm done being the one who needs saving."
The wind shifted.
Julius cocked his head slightly. Something's off...
"Feeling a bit too confident, aren't you?" Remi said, managing a shaky smirk.
He blinked. "What are you—"
"I wasn't just buffing them," she said calmly, "I was healing them too. Restoring their vitality. Bit by bit."
Realization struck Julius like a brick wall. He turned, eyes scanning the field.
Yulli was on his feet again, blade leveled. Bruce was back, cracking his knuckles. Lawlet stood tall, guns aimed. All three surrounded him now, their weapons gleaming with purpose.
Julius smiled as he slowly raised his hands in surrender. "Well… I'll be damned."
Lawlet cocked a brow. "We won."
Silence stretched for a moment before Julius laughed—loud, genuine, and a little proud.
"You got me this time!" he said, lowering his sword. "Damn impressive. You've all grown a lot."
He looked around at the team, at the spark of confidence glowing in their eyes, the sweat on their brows, the quiet camaraderie in their formation.
"You're not cadets anymore," he said with a grin. "You're hunters in the making."
The sun dipped low across the training grounds, casting long golden rays over the bruised, battered, but smiling cadets. Dirt-streaked, sweaty, and barely able to lift a limb, the group collapsed onto the grass like a pile of overcooked noodles.
"We did it!" they shouted in unison, though it sounded more like a collective groan from a zombie choir.
Their faces beamed with exhaustion and pride—each of them knowing that, for once, all the training, pain, and mental torture had finally paid off.
Julius, arms crossed and wind gently fluttering his coat, smirked.
"Don't get too cozy, you gremlins. Your training was just the warm-up." His voice echoed across the field like a warning bell. "The real test comes in three days when we return to Gebraucht—and this time, I won't interfere."
That wiped the smiles clean off their faces like a slap with a wet fish.
"Wait—what?" Bruce sat up, panic rising like his blood pressure.
"You mean you're just gonna let us get mauled again?!" Bruce shouted, immediately pointing an accusing finger. "See?! This guy's got a sadistic streak the size of a skyscraper!"
Julius raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you call me cool like... a week ago?"
"I take it back! You're the kind of guy who'd take a vacation in a haunted house for fun!"
While Bruce continued to rattle off insults with the speed and volume of a faulty megaphone, Remi stood, brushing dirt off her knees. Her expression was determined despite her messy hair and wobbling legs.
"It's fine, everyone," she said, her voice steady. "We managed to overcome one wall. I believe we can break through the next one too."
Bruce gave a thumbs-up. "Hell yeah! Sulking's for losers! Let's go down swinging!"
"Please don't go down at all," Lawlet muttered under his breath, already imagining another near-death experience.
Julius opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce interrupted, jabbing a thumb at him.
"But I still blame Julius for ruining the mood!"
Julius rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I train you, protect you, give you wisdom… and this is what I get."
"Yup! Zero stars. Would not recommend!" Bruce grinned.
The tension broke, and everyone burst out laughing—even Julius chuckled despite himself.
"Alright, alright. Enough serious talk. Dinner's on me!" Julius declared with a grin, deciding to ride the wave of joy while it lasted.
"YAY!" the group cheered, jumping to their feet despite their aching bodies.
But Yulli—ever the quiet realist—tilted his head. "You're going to regret saying that…"
Julius blinked, confused—until he saw Bruce already halfway down the hill, sprinting like a man possessed.
"BRUCE—NO! NOT THE BUFFET PLACE AGAIN!"
Julius took off after him, arms flailing, voice cracking with horror. "I HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN PAID YET!"
The rest of the cadets burst out laughing again, wheezing and stumbling after them.
As Julius ran, tears of financial despair welled up in his eyes. "The things I do for my cadets…"
He didn't stop running, but his voice trailed behind him, along with his dignity—and soon, probably his wallet.
After days of rest, the cadets returned to Gebraucht—not as the frightened trainees they once were, but as stronger, sharpened versions of themselves.
Their eyes held focus. Their stances carried purpose. The weight of failure still lingered—but this time, it fueled them.
Julius stood behind them, arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"You've trained. You've grown," he said, his voice calm, steady.
The wind whispered through the trees.
"Let the hunt begin."