The chemistry exam spanned four pages run off on coarse, recycled gray paper, smelling of fresh mimeograph toner.
Dante worked with only his left hand to complete all twenty problems on stoichiometry and ionic equilibrium. With his right collarbone still anchored under the school uniform by the elastic wrap, he gripped the black ballpoint with awkward steadiness, though the sheer speed with which he scribbled down his solutions drew nervous stares from adjacent desks.
At twelve minutes flat on the wall clock, he rose from his chair, strode up to Mr. Rogério's desk, and dropped his stapled pages atop the stack of clean exam forms.
The teacher checked his wristwatch, then looked up into the boy's face.
"You didn't double-check a single formula, kid?"
"Calculations don't need a second look when they're right the first time, sir," Dante replied in a flat monotone, turning back toward his seat without waiting for the man to inspect the front page.
Three rows back, Maria sat thoroughly stalled on problem number eight.
The girl gripped her pencil like an iron chisel. The graphite lead snapped twice in a row against the paper from the crushing force of her fingers, forcing her to rely on a plastic sharpener already choking on wood shavings. She glared down at the balancing equation, let out a low snort, and guessed option B purely because she liked the look of the number five.
She had no use for a perfect score. With a solid passing grade guaranteed by the discreet pencil dots Dante had notched into the margin of his master sheet before turning it in, she would clear the semester without ever setting foot in makeup classes.
When the recess bell rang through the hallway, Maria was the first out of her seat.
She shoved the wooden desk aside with her knees, swung her blue backpack over one shoulder, and strode out of the room with long steps, ignoring the grumbling of classmates groaning over the test's length.
The second-floor girls' restroom sat at the end of the school's older wing, where two classrooms had been shuttered due to roof leaks. Hardly anyone visited during recess, as most students favored the facility by the cafeteria, which had new mirrors and fluorescent tubes that didn't flicker.
Maria stepped into the dim room, kicking open the blue-painted wooden door with the toe of her shoe.
The air reeked of cheap pine floor cleaner mingled with the damp rot of aging pipes. She walked up to the gray granite counter, turned the metal tap, and splashed two generous handfuls of cold water across her face to rinse away the morning's fatigue.
Water trickled down her cheeks, dripping into the brass drain.
The sound of the dripping ceased mid-air.
The faucet remained open, yet the falling water froze in its course, suspended in a motionless crystal stream between the spout and the ceramic basin. The scent of pine and mold was swept straight out the window, replaced instantly by that crisp breeze of mountain morning and dry leaves.
Maria didn't bother reaching for a paper towel. She wiped her wet chin with the sleeve of her school shirt and turned slowly to her right.
The man in the white jacket was perched on the edge of the adjacent sink.
His clean white sneakers rested against the cast-iron drainpipe, arms folded across his chest, the wooden toothpick rolling casually between his lips. The light jacket held not a single stray crease.
"This place is pretty filthy, kiddo," he remarked, eyeing the dark mildew spots on the tile wall. "You two have enough coin to buy three apartment blocks downtown, and you're still showing up for chemistry quizzes in a crumbling public school?"
"This is the girls' restroom, you slacker," Maria said, resting her left hand on the granite counter, her brown eyes narrowing in warning. "And we come to school because Dante said we need high school graduation diplomas so we don't flag the tax office."
The man let out a short chuckle through his nose, taking the toothpick from his lips.
"He thinks of everything. That's the best thing about that bighead." He glanced toward the door locked in static time. "Just dropped by to check on your husks. Saw the bone matrix held. The etheric signature of those wings dropped right off the charts in the First Great Continent. Legion radar is completely clean."
Maria took a step toward him. The height difference between them was virtually nonexistent now, her broad shoulders filling the aisle between the basins with imposing bulk.
"We almost died in that central boiler," she said in a cold, blunt voice. "That Guardian was Level 24 and packed four hundred tons of solid iron. It blew through Dante's barrier in two seconds and nearly flattened his skull against the deck."
The man arched an eyebrow, a minor gesture of mild curiosity.
"I saw the closing log on the report," he answered casually. "Read: Colossus felled by internal pressure collapse and drive tread severance. Figured Dante used his brain to locate the right valve while you tanked the hit with that sword."
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Maria froze mid-stride.
Her gaze locked onto the man's face. She searched for any tell of deception, any glint of mockery in those gold-rimmed eyes.
There was none.
The man truly believed the machine had collapsed to a tactical strike from Dante. He had no inkling of the heat that had boiled her blood. He knew nothing of the black smoke that hissed between her teeth, nor of the thirty-four points of raw Strength that allowed her to shear a five-ton steel chassis in half with an ordinary iron blade.
He didn't see it.
This guy commands the interface and freezes time, but there are things he simply cannot track.
The realization settled in her gut with an eerie, chilling weight.
"He didn't locate any valve on his own," she snapped, irritation flaring in her stomach. "I cracked that monster's leg open with brute leverage. I peeled open its firebox with my own hands while Dante was spitting blood with a shattered collarbone. And you talk like he did the whole job."
The man furrowed his brow for half a second, then shrugged with lazy indifference.
"You're a Rearguard Sentinel, Maria. That's literally the job description: take the ugly hits, break whatever is in front of you, and keep the Mana conduit breathing. You performed the role your class was assigned to execute."
He pushed off the counter, stretching his long legs on the stained restroom floor.
"What truly counts is that the Light remains whole," he continued, aiming the toothpick at her chest. "Dante secured his Second Rank. The ash matrix holds firm. Now we need to accelerate the boy's progression so he hits Level 20 before the year is out."
Maria's patience snapped completely.
Her fists clenched with such violence that her knuckles cracked like dry gunshots in the silent room.
"We aren't your pets," her voice dropped low, harsh, laced with a raw fury that made the suspended water droplets from the tap quiver in mid-air. "I'm not a babysitter for some angel, and Dante isn't a chess pawn for you to throw against ancient scrap just to see if his husk can take the beating."
The man paused with his hand inside his jacket pocket, studying the six-foot-three girl with a neutral expression, momentarily taken aback by her blunt defiance.
"You're forgetting who pulled you off that filthy sidewalk with a crushed juice box in your hand, kiddo."
"I haven't forgotten a damn thing," she stepped directly into his space until her chin nearly brushed the collar of his white jacket. "I remember every single second. But the ones bleeding on that iron floor are him and me. The ones who nearly ended up as minced meat are him and me. If you think you can pop into our recess and herd us into the slaughterhouse whenever it suits your schedule, you've got another thing coming."
The man held Maria's furious glare for three seconds that felt like hours.
Then, he let out a drawn-out sigh, slid his right hand from his pocket, and snapped his fingers in the air.
The chime of a glass bell rang through the girl's skull.
The silver window unfolded between them, fresh lines of text rolling out at an unhurried pace.
[New Binding Quest: Capital.]
[Origin: Higher Authority.]
[Primary Objective: Establish a secure route to the Capital of the First Great Continent.]
[Secondary Objective: Reach Level 20 in both primary classes.]
[Time Limit: 180 Earth days.]
[Reward: Tier 3 Specialization Tree Unlock.]
[Failure Penalty: No direct penalty. Planar progression freeze.]
Maria read the deadline.
One hundred and eighty days.
Six full months.
"There," the man said, his tone turning lazy once more, stripping away all trace of gravity. "A hundred and eighty days on the clock. Ample time for you two to eat burgers at the mall, study chemistry with your bald teacher, and train without rushing headlong into active furnaces."
He straightened the lapel of his white jacket, took half a pace back toward the tile wall, and gave her a wink with his gold-ringed eye.
"Until the end of the term, Maria. Mind that sharp tongue of yours, talking back to a higher authority gives people ulcers."
"Hold on, you piece of shit, I'm not done talking to..."
The man simply vanished.
There was no gust of wind, no flash. The space he had occupied was bare before she could even raise her hand to grip his collar.
The world snapped back into motion with a sudden jolt.
Water from the tap resumed cascading into the ceramic basin with a hollow splash, spraying cold droplets across Maria's legs. The scent of pine cleaner flooded her senses once more, and the muffled echoes of students laughing down the hall drifted past the blue door.
Maria remained rooted before the sink for ten seconds, breathing heavily, glaring at the empty wall with balled fists.
"You aren't any authority over us."
She cranked the faucet shut with a violent wrench that nearly stripped the brass threading, wiped her wet hands across her uniform shirt, and barged out of the restroom with heavy, angry strides.
Out in the bustling hallway, Dante leaned against the tiled wall beside the water fountain, sipping from a thin plastic cup. He caught sight of Maria's stormy scowl as she approached.
"Did something happen?" Dante asked, tossing the crushed cup into the trash can.
"A hundred and eighty days," she said without breaking stride. "He gave us six months to carve a path to the Capital of the First Great Continent and reach Level 20."
Dante quickened his pace to match her long strides heading toward the courtyard.
"Six months? That's a massive window. Why do you look like you're about to bite someone's head off?"
"Because that guy is an arrogant bastard," she hissed between her teeth without looking back. "And because we're having steak and rice for lunch today, and you're footing the entire bill.”