Thirty minutes later, Arthur made his way out to the sunlit transport bay, joining Isoreth and the rest of the freshman class.
Most of the students were strapped into the standard-issue Academy combat gear, reinforced dark slate Kevlar plates, matte-black utility belts, and high-collared protective vests bearing the silver crest of the institution.
On most, it looked sharp. On Arthur? Not so much.
Because he’d never had the funds to request custom tailoring, his assigned gear hung awkwardly off his frame. The chest piece bowed outward slightly, the shoulder pauldrons sat a bit too wide, and the tactical trousers bunched up at his ankles. He looked less like an elite rank-two summoner and more like a kid wearing his older brother's hand-me-downs.
Seeing the legendary ape-breaker looking so hopelessly unpolished instantly gave a few bitter students a quiet boost of confidence. Finally, there was something they could beat Arthur Cole at: looking the part.
Over by the front transport, Sidwig leaned toward his surrounding cronies, flicking a mocking glare toward Arthur’s ill-fitting vest and whispering something under his breath. The group instantly burst into loud, snide laughter.
"You really ought to look into custom-tailored gear," Isoreth noted softly, stepping up beside him.
She, of course, looked like she’d stepped straight off a luxury combat magazine. While the average student wore the standard black-and-slate uniform, Isoreth, Sidwig, and the Vance cousins were all clad in high-grade, private family armor. Isoreth’s sleek, white-and-gold composite suit clung flawlessly to her form, woven with light-absorbing mana threads.
That single chest piece alone could probably buy Uncle Potus’s entire house twice over, Arthur thought wryly.
He offered her a self-deprecating grin. "A bit out of my budget. I'm practically living on student loans and prayer."
Isoreth let out a soft laugh, her eyes warm as she looked him over. "Well, given how effortlessly your girl shattered a legacy summon in the trial, you'll be swimming in guild sponsorships soon enough. You'll afford a master armorer in no time."
"You really think so?"
"Assuming you survive today's raid, of course," she added with a sly, dangerous smirk.
"Fair point," Arthur chuckled. "Though I like my odds."
Before Isoreth could reply, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed across the pavement. Mr. Touchimani strode into the center of the bay, flanked by two formidable figures.
To his left stood a broad-shouldered man with a fiery mane of dark red hair and arms the size of tree trunks, his posture oozing quiet, heavy power.
"Listen up!" Touchimani roared, clapping his hands together. "These two will be overseeing your field operation alongside me. To my left is Tito, a Silver-tier Summoner and a seasoned veteran. Don't let his quiet demeanor fool you; his bonded beast has cleared more Blue Gates than most of you have even seen on television."
Touchimani shifted his gaze to the woman standing on his right. She had dark, raven hair pulled back into a sharp ponytail, a cold, clinical expression, and a voluptuous chest practically straining against the reinforced seams of her combat suit.
"To my right is Miss Donna, also a Silver-tier specialist," Touchimani continued smoothly. "And before any of you soft-headed idiots ask why we need three high-ranking overseers for a simple freshman evaluation..."
"...it's because you won't be raiding together. We are splitting the class into three separate strike teams. Each team will be deployed to a completely different Gate in different sectors of the city. No hand-holding. No safety nets."
So we’re being split up, Arthur realized, his mind instantly running through the tactical implications.
"There are twenty-two of you total," Mr. Touchimani announced, his booming voice cutting through the rising murmurs of the crowd. "That means two groups of seven, and one group of eight. Each team will be assigned a designated squad captain, and your group will be referred to by your captain's name for the duration of this strike."
Touchimani unclipped a glowing digital tablet from his belt, tapping the screen as three holographic lists projected into the air above the transport bay.
"The three team captains leading today's raids are Isoreth, Sidwig, and Arthur."
Huh? A captain? I'm a fucking captain? Arthur thought, a surge of genuine surprise hitting him. Well, how about that? From a rankless nobody to leading my own strike team in less than a week.
"So we have Team Isoreth, Team Sidwig, and Team Arthur," Mr. Touchimani declared, tapping the holographic display. "I will personally supervise Team Isoreth. Mr. Tito will oversee Team Sidwig. And Miss Donna will handle Team Arthur."
Arthur’s eyes flicked over to the dark-haired instructor, taking in the way her tight combat gear hugged her generous curves. Oh, perfect. I get the stunning Miss Donna.
"Your supervisor's sole duty is to monitor your progress, ensure you adhere to field protocols, and record your combat performance," Touchimani warned, his voice dropping into a harsh, unyielding tone. "They are observers, not your personal bodyguards. They will not step in unless a scenario spirals completely out of control and you are on the literal brink of death. And let me make one thing crystal clear..."
He leaned forward, his scarred face hardening into a brutal mask.
"...If you choke, panic, and manage to get yourself killed before your supervisor can react, the Academy holds zero liability. You signed the waivers. You step past that rift threshold, your life is in your own hands and the hands of your captain."
Touchimani turned off the holographic screen with a loud click.
"Captains, step forward and inspect your assigned rosters. Transports leave in five minutes!"
Arthur, Isoreth, and Sidwig stepped forward to the front of the transport bay. As they lined up, Mr. Touchimani handed each of them a glowing digital tablet displaying their assigned rosters.
"When your team leader calls your name, step forward and fall in behind them," Touchimani barked. "Sidwig, you're up first."
Sidwig sneered, tapping his screen as he called out his squad in a loud, arrogant tone. "Roland Martin. Luther Grey. Lando Gates. Chuck Boris. Charmaine Cruz. Christabel Turbos."
One by one, the called students stepped out of the crowd, hurrying over to form a line behind the legacy heir.
"Isoreth, you're next," Touchimani said.
Isoreth stepped up, her voice smooth and commandingly calm as she read off her list. "Cade Maddok, Rosanne Braus, Bruno Jukea, Edward Jones, Matthew McDrogor, Dustin Buros, Selena Volker, and Julian Drake."
Her seven team members quickly fell in behind her, looking visibly relieved to be under the wing of the rank-one prodigy and Mr. Touchimani himself.
With fifteen students now assigned, all eyes turned to Arthur. It was finally his turn.
"Team Arthur," he called out, his voice crisp and carrying across the bay. "Alexa Vance. Marcus Flint. Damon Cross. Kenneth Reed. Chloe Bennett. Naomi Park..."
He paused, looking up from the screen to lock eyes with the last remaining student standing alone in the center of the bay. The guy looked absolutely miserable, his arms crossed tightly as his face twisted in annoyance.
"...and Christoffer Vance."
A few quiet snickers rippled through the gathered crowd.
Christoffer looked like he’d just been forced to swallow glass. Dragging his feet, he reluctantly trudged over to join Arthur’s line, glaring daggers at the floor. Not only had he been assigned to the squad led by the guy who had utterly humiliated his patron, but he’d also been completely separated from Sidwig.
Arthur gave Christoffer a wide, effortless grin as the boy fell into place at the back of the line.
"Welcome aboard, Vance," Arthur murmured softly, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "Try to keep up."
Five minutes later, three heavy armored transports rumbled out of the Academy gates, splitting off in three different directions into the city.
In Team Arthur’s bus, Arthur sat right at the very front beside Miss Donna. As the squad captain, she had insisted he sit next to her so they could review the mission parameters, a arrangement Arthur wasn't complaining about in the slightest.
Sitting this close, it was almost impossible for his mind not to wander. Every time the bus hit a bump in the road, the sheer force fighting against the seams of her tight combat vest was a spectacle in itself. Arthur couldn't help stealing a few lingering glances, quietly marveling at the insane geometry holding her gear together.
"Is there something on my face, Captain Cole? Or do you always stare at your superiors like that?" Miss Donna asked smoothly, not even turning her head as she adjusted her tablet.
Shit. Caught red-handed, Arthur thought, his pulse spiking for a split second.
Without missing a beat, he flashed his most charming, innocent smile. "Just focused on the mission, ma'am. I was actually wondering if you could tell me our exact destination?"
Miss Donna turned toward him, a playful, knowing curve tugging at her lips that suggested she knew exactly what he’d been looking at.
"Is that all?" she purred softly, leaning back against her headrest. "We’re heading to the Northern Municipal Dam. A Green-tier Gate opened deep within the lower filtration complex two days ago. If we don't purge the rift and slay the boss before it ruptures, the entire city's primary water supply will be contaminated by mana rot."
She turned her sharp, dark eyes back to him, her expression hardening into something altogether more serious.
"Thousands of civilian lives depend on the water from that reservoir, Arthur. So keep your eyes on the objective... and off my chest."
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