For the past three days, Alex and Sherry had moved from one location to another, hunting monsters nonstop. But the deeper they pushed, the more students they encountered.
Most teams avoided direct conflict, keeping to themselves—but their mere presence steadily drained the area of viable monsters.
Their efficiency dropped sharply as finding clean, uncontested kills grew harder by the hour.
Their recent encounters with Prowlers had been... unpleasant. Vile, reeking things that looked like evolution had given up halfway through and let nightmares finish the job.
Twisted, quadrupedal humanoids—some covered in greasy brown or mottled grey fur—they moved with an unsettling, animalistic grace. They stalked low to the ground, heads jerking with unnatural twitches, jaws hanging open in ragged, eternal grins. But it was their faces that haunted you: sunken eyes glowing faintly with cruel intelligence, and a gaping mouth lined with uneven, jagged fangs. They hunted in packs.
The Ironcoil Serpent, by contrast, was a different kind of nightmare. Massive and imposing, it towered over the underbrush like a living coil of steel. Its scales were iron-grey, each one glinting like forged armor. When it dropped from the trees and flared its hood, hypnotic patterns shimmered across its skin—spirals and swirls that seemed to pulse with unnatural rhythm. Anyone caught staring too long would find their limbs paralyzed and their thoughts scrambled.
And before you even realized it, the serpent's body would coil around you, crushing bone and breath alike with terrifying ease.
Currently, their total score had surpassed half a million points. And yet… their rank still hovered at 93rd.
The one silver lining in the past few exhausting days was Gleam. After a full day of rest and recovery, he had finally returned to full strength—and even advanced.
Now a proper B-rank, Gleam could hold his own against any monster in the same rank with ease.
"We're losing momentum." Alex admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.
Aurora, floating lazily over his shoulder, comforted him. "You're not doing badly. You're just in a bad location. This place is just a few days from the city, so it's packed with students. It became a hotspot."
"…Then let's move somewhere farther out and hope it's not crowded." he decided. He turned to Sherry.
Sherry looked up and nodded without hesitation, quiet resolve in her eyes.
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By the end of the first week, the wilderness had already claimed its toll.
Several students were dead—some torn apart by monsters, others lost to carelessness or overexertion, pushing their limits with too little rest and too much pride.
Dozens more had dropped out—either dragged away by instructors after activating their distress signals or quietly quitting, unable to take the pressure any longer.
And yet, despite the growing list of dropouts and fatalities, the competition remained as cutthroat as ever.
The rankings board was a battleground in its own right—constantly shifting, constantly brutal. The top 100 changed minute by minute. Team names flickered like unstable flames, rising and vanishing in the span of a breath. For many, reaching the top 100 was a dream. Staying there? A war.
The pressure to keep climbing forced students to keep moving, keep hunting, keep fighting. Slowing down, even for a single day, meant being overtaken.
For Knight-class students, the struggle was even more brutal. Their strength and defense were formidable—but their lack of range and magical firepower left them at a disadvantage. Alone, they could only reliably hunt C-rank monsters, D-ranks more often than not.
Some with better luck managed to partner up with mages.
Temporary alliances became common. Small coalitions—two, sometimes three teams—banded together to challenge stronger monsters. It wasn't unusual to see a loosely coordinated group circling a single B-rank monster, wearing it down bit by bit with careful teamwork.
But in the end, only one thing mattered: who landed the final blow.
It didn't matter who did the most damage. Who tanked the hits. Who risked everything to get close. Points were given to whomever made the last strike.
Some students exploited this ruthlessly—holding back until the target was nearly dead, then diving in for the kill to claim all the points. Others developed internal systems, rotating finishing blows within their group to maintain balance. And some… some turned on their allies mid-fight, betraying their partners in the chaos just to steal the last hit.
The Wilderness Survival Training was meant to teach teamwork, resilience, and the art of survival.
But more than anything—
It revealed character.
And for many… it wasn't pretty.
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Ten days had passed since the start of the Wilderness Survival Training.
Somewhere deep within the Wilderness, the stench of scorched flesh lingered in the air. Smoke curled lazily from the blackened husk of a massive A-rank monster—its body charred to the bone, smoldering in the aftermath of a devastating burst of flame.
Nearby, a team of all-female students stood victorious.
At the center of the carnage stood a tall girl with brilliant crimson hair cascading down her back, a striking contrast to her pale skin and blood-red eyes. Her expression was calm, composed—indifferent, even—despite the overwhelming success of their battle.
She didn't look like she'd just slain an A-rank monster worth 20,000 points—only mildly inconvenienced.
"Lady Scarlet!" one of the girls breathed, hands clasped in awe. "That final spell—it was amazing! You charred the monster down to its bones!"
"Completely grilled it!" another added, wide-eyed. "No wonder they call you the Crimson Rose. So elegant… yet so brutal."
Vivianne Scarlet—the strongest second-year mage of Starshine Academy, heiress to the illustrious Scarlet family of the Ashkart Kingdom, and wielder of devastating fire magic—simply turned from the burnt corpse, brushing soot from her clothes.
Vivianne gave them a gentle smile, her voice calm and composed as ever. "It was a team effort. You all contributed. Take a moment to rest before we move out again."
Her words weren't false modesty, nor was she distant or cold. Vivianne was poised—gracefully regal and quietly formidable, like a living flame wrapped in silk.
Until, of course…
"Veeeee~!"
Vivianne barely had time to react before arms snaked around her from behind—palms boldly cupping her breast in a playful ambush.
"Y-You again?!" she sputtered, her voice rising in indignant fury as the teasing hands cupped her breasts with shameless familiarity.
A voice, thick with mischief and affection, whispered by her ear. "Mmm~ your magic's not the only thing that's grown lately. Family genes? Or just a very rich diet?"
Vivianne's entire face ignited a furious red, matching the tips of her hair that began to waver with rising heat.
"A-Aria!" she sputtered, elbow twitching violently. "You complete pervert! W-What part of don't grope me in front of everyone do you not understand?!"
Aria only laughed, clearly unbothered, her golden hair bouncing as she leaned closer. "Aww, come on. You make it too easy, Vee. All regal and flustered like that—it's adorable."
Vivianne spun on her heel, sparks flaring at her fingertips. "I am not adorable!"
"And I'm not letting go until you admit it."
"Ariaaaa!!"
A miniature burst of flame erupted harmlessly into the air as Vivianne growled, caught somewhere between homicidal rage and red-faced embarrassment. The other girls wisely chose to look away, pretending not to see the infamous Crimson Rose threatening to set her best friend on fire… again.
Aria Sylfen—best friend, incorrigible nuisance, and the only person in the Academy who could touch Vivianne without getting incinerated—flashed a teasing smile. Her long golden hair danced in the breeze, and the deep green accents on her dress shimmered like forest leaves in sunlight. Fitting, for someone of the prestigious Sylfen family, renowned for its refined mastery of wind magic.
Her rare affinity for Sound Magic—a refined offshoot of Wind—made her the team's perfect scout and strategist. She could map terrain with a hum, track targets by their footsteps, and hear whispers through stone walls if she felt like it. In battle, she was their eyes and ears.
And often, their loudest mouth.
Behind the teasing and flirtation, Aria was a razor hidden in velvet—keen, unshakably loyal, and way too observant for her own good. Especially the embarrassing childhood stories Vivianne wished she'd forget.
"Anyway," Aria continued, her tone shifting as she scanned the horizon, "I'm picking up another group about a kilometer out. Think we should move?"
Vivianne gave a small nod. With a brief gesture, she signaled the others to regroup. The team moved swiftly, already accustomed to the rhythm of their leader's commands.
As they disappeared into the trees, the charred remains of the A-rank monster crackled behind them—smoke curling into the red-streaked sky.
Praise wasn't necessary. The Crimson Rose left it smoldering in her wake.