The northern draw was a brutal, jagged wound cut deep into the coastal shelf. The stone beneath their boots was a dark, bruised grey, slick with sea mist and utterly indifferent to human travel. Fen’s revised gradient had been flawlessly accurate. The secondary approach lines flanking them had already pinched into narrow, vertical death traps that would require heavy rope anchors to navigate safely. The official briefing hadn’t ntioned any of this. It had been lazily compiled from a fifteen-year-old cartographic survey that blindly trusted its own outdated projections.
Three minutes into the steep climb, Fen abruptly stopped walking.
"The eastern signature just moved," she reported, her eyes fixed on the towering cliffs rather than her glowing wristband. "The live-conditions update originally placed it at grid seven. It is currently sitting at grid five."
Vane pulled up his command band and checked the live feed. She was exactly right. He silently adjusted their approach vector and logged the correction in the tactical network.
Aldric didn’t say a word. He simply noted the new coordinates on his own wrist, adjusted his grip on his weapon, and kept his pace entirely steady.
They found the first cluster waiting near the mouth of the draw. Unsurprisingly, the monsters were absolutely nowhere near the briefing’s predicted position. The pack of five bipedal, mid-tier entities had tucked themselves thirty ters further east, hiding against the lower face of the ridge where the eroded stone created a perfect natural blind spot. They had lived in this hostile zone long enough to understand the lethal geotry of the terrain far better than the Academy administrators who docunted it.
As Vane’s squad rounded the rocky spur and stepped directly into their sightline, the creatures didn’t blindly charge. They possessed a terrifying, adaptive logic. The front three beasts pressed forward in a synchronized, aggressive rush, while the rear two imdiately split wide, scrambling rapidly up the rocky inclines.
They were setting up a flank.
The ambient mana field spiked sharply on the right side a full half-second before the rear elent actually shifted its physical weight. Vane felt the pressure warp against his aura.
"Left," Vane ordered.
Kael was holding the right edge of their formation. He didn’t hesitate or ask questions. He imdiately stepped hard to his left. The flanking entity dropped from the rocks, violently striking the empty air where the first-year student had just been standing. The creature overcorrected its montum, stumbling awkwardly against the loose gravel. That single mont of recovery was the exact mont it died, Vane’s spear taking it cleanly through the center of mass.
The entire engagent lasted four minutes.
Vane dismantled the central pair of creatures using a strictly controlled output of the Silver Fang. It was only the first morning of a five-day deploynt, and his core reserves were not a currency he could afford to spend freely. His technique was ruthlessly clean, targeting joint structures and load-bearing anatomy rather than wasting heavy mana on flashy surface damage. It was the kind of brutal efficiency that closed engagents without creating excess waste.
Aldric held the right side of the skirmish line without needing a single word of instruction. His blade work was textbook perfect. He didn’t overextend, and he didn’t try to show off for his commander. He operated exactly like a Peak Elite who deeply understood that being highly capable and being reckless were two entirely different things. He made two independent tactical decisions during the chaotic scramble. Both of them were flawlessly correct.
Fen anchored the rearmost position, maintaining a completely unobstructed sightline across the chaotic engagent. She tracked every moving elent simultaneously. She only physically moved once, taking a single, deliberate step to her left that opened a firing line she had instantly calculated would matter.
It mattered exactly fifteen seconds later.
Kael was holding his anchor position on the left flank. When the fifth and final entity made a desperate secondary flanking attempt toward the rear of their unit, the rookie read the movent two beats slower than Vane, but a full beat before the monster fully committed to the strike. Kael instantly dropped into the rigid defensive posture his instructors had drilled into him. It was the absolute correct tactical choice, but it simply wasn’t enough to match the feral speed of the zone. The creature’s claws sparked against Kael’s guard, glancing shallowly off the tal, but still tearing a jagged cut across the boy’s left forearm.
The beast hit the ground and was dead a second later, caught perfectly by Fen’s waiting counter-strike.
Vane ran a rapid post-engagent sweep. The mouth of the draw was clear. He checked his command band, confirming there were no additional hostile signatures closing in on their imdiate grid. He turned around to check his squad.
Kael had already dropped to one knee and ripped open his dical kit. He was treating his bleeding forearm with the cold, focused efficiency of a veteran. He had clearly absorbed the Academy’s harshest lesson. An unaddressed wound in the field instantly beca a squad liability, not a badge of honor or a story to tell. He didn’t pause to gasp in pain. He didn’t look up at Vane for permission or direction, and he didn’t announce what he was doing. He simply sterilized the cut, sealed it tight with a chemical patch, snapped his kit shut, and picked his weapon right back up.
’He has been at this Academy for four months,’ Vane thought, genuinely impressed by the kid’s discipline.
Aldric was watching the rookie too. A subtle shift crossed the older boy’s aristocratic features. It wasn’t sentintal warmth, but the distinct look of an analyst actively updating their internal database based on new, undeniable evidence. Kael had earned his spot.
Aldric lowered his weapon and turned his attention to Vane. "How exactly did you read that first flank before it even moved?"
It wasn’t flattery, and it wasn’t a bruised concession of rank. It was a genuine, practical request for a combat chanism he did not yet possess. Aldric had spotted the flank a half-second before the beast committed to the jump. Vane had called the warning a full second before that.
"The ambient mana field variance spiked hard on the right side just before the elent physically shifted," Vane explained, wiping his spear blade clean. "A hostile behavioral shift always registers in the magical field about two seconds before it translates into physical muscle movent."
Aldric looked down at the blood-stained gravel where the first flanker had hit absolutely nothing. He looked back up at Vane. He wore the stunned expression of a student who had just been inford there was an entire hidden layer of information running directly beneath the world he had been studying for two years.
"Can you always read it that early?" Aldric asked.
"Only if I am actively paying attention," Vane said.
Aldric gave a slow nod. He didn’t say anything else, but as they reford the line, Vane noticed the younger boy subtly adjusting his stance. Aldric was actively sweeping the ambient field in a way he hadn’t been twenty minutes ago.
Fen walked over as soon as the area was secured. She had been scribbling in her notebook since the final entity dropped. She tore a page out and held it out to Vane.
"Secondary cluster," Fen reported crisply. "One hundred and eighty ters north-northwest. The official briefing claims they are located to the northeast."
Vane looked down at her charcoal sketch. She had mapped the new position, drawn the safest approach vector, and provided a quick, accurate density estimate based entirely on the raw field readings she had been running while the rest of them were busy fighting.
"How confident are you?" Vane asked.
"Extrely high. The ambient field variance has been pulling steadily northwest since we first entered the mouth of this draw. The briefing was clearly built on the exact sa flawed survey that the ridge elevation ca from."
Vane looked up at the dark, winding path of the draw ahead of them. Sowhere, one hundred and eighty ters to the north-northwest, a threat cluster was waiting in the shadows, entirely unbothered by the administrative docunt that had confidently placed it thirty degrees off its actual location.
He pulled up the tactical log, marked Fen’s corrected position, and forwarded the raw data to the unit’s shared band channel.
Aldric read the glowing update on his wrist. He looked north-northwest, his grip tightening on his weapon. He was already moving forward.
Vane took the lead, and they pushed deeper into the draw.
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