I step through the round portal that opens into the practice hall, and I enter an amphitheater-like structure. The place looks wide and bright, and the light emanates from a sky that has no sun. The air tastes clean and cool. Spell lines run across the stone like faint silver roots, and the bleachers rise in high tiers that circle a flat arena. I take a seat with the other students, the wood under me feels smooth and warm. Robes rustle as the class sits, and the low murmur of conversation rolls up through the stands. This is not Veins and Body Mastery 101, something I was looking forward to. It is instead Monster Felling 201.

I look around while I wait for the other Champions to show up, and my chest tightens when I don't see them anywhere. The students here move with steady steps, and most of them hold themselves like trained fighters. Their eyes look around the arena and scan the crowd predatorily.

King Baalrek picks up on my searching and starts laughing in my head.

You really think that they'd join Monster Felling 201?!

I recall what Elder Lioren said. Monster Felling 201 opens to those who prove they can take down a Peak Gold Rank monster alone. The Academy brings most Apprentices from Early or Intermediate Gold Rank, and they typically reach Peak Gold Rank by the end of the first year. You can only pass Monster Felling 101 when you have slain a Peak Gold Rank monster of the Academy's choosing. I already did that during the entrance exam, so the Academy placed me in Monster Felling 201.

Oh, so they've already jumped to Monster Felling 301?

To pass Monster Felling 201, you have to slay an INTERMEDIATE Platinum Rank. The more you level up, the harder it is to jump, kid. I'd put the Princess, the Highblood, and the Dragonkin at Early Diamond in power despite being Gold Rankers in level. I suspect that your brother and the Margrave brat are also around this level. Perhaps, the Void Mage, too—at least when it comes to offensive abilities. Although if that bastard is running the Academy like he used to, he probably didn't make the cut. Offensive abilities are not everything. Stronger monsters are not mindless idiots. To pass Monster Felling 301, you need to kill a Peak Platinum monster, close to Diamond Rank. That's why I'd say that the Void Mage, the Dwarf, and the Goblin are stuck in Monster Felling 301. They lack the versatility to kill monsters at that level.

Oh. Wait. You left out Kaelrik, the swordsman.

He's the wildcard of the bunch. It's hard to say where he would be placed. If I had a body, I could have scanned him with my abilities. As is, he could have ended up in either class.

I thought that I was the wildcard of the bunch.

Don't flatter yourself.

I keep quiet and fold my hands together, making the leather of my gloves creak. King Baalrek lets out a deep breath.

You've got luck, kid. More luck than I've ever seen so far. And you're not an idiot.

Is this you trying to be encouraging?

I didn't kill you—that was me trying to be encouraging. This is me being nurturing.

He pauses, and I listen as the arena quiets in anticipation of the lesson starting.

You can make it, Cloud. But you need to stay grounded. Shadow the Champions. Survive, and you will keep being lucky. But don't let your ego kill you and bite off more than you can chew. This is a very long run, and there is time for you to catch up to them. But you don't want to become a one-trick pony. These Classes will teach you a lot. Study. Train. Keep practicing.

I plan to mutter something sharp back, but I let it go. I focus on the lecture and on the way the arena glows with soft runes. The light makes a red sheen on the polished stone floor, and I can see old grooves cut across the center from past fights.

Snickering rises behind me. "So you're the rat bastard who somehow managed to become a Champion."

I turn and see three elves dressed in academy robes. Their hair is straight and pale, their ears peeking through it like curved blades. Each face carries bright golden piercings. Rings thread along their eyebrows and trace their ears, and the metal reflects. Their robes hang loosely, and the fabric looks rich. The sharp smell of cologne clings to them.

"Excuse me?" I frown. "Do I know you?"

"You killed one of our own. You're the Valemont bastard from Clearwater."

I look them over from boots to crown. Their gold piercings speak to their wealth and pride. Their eyes carry the timeless elven serenity, eyes cold with judgment.

Elven nobles, Cloud, King Baalrek says.

Right. Of course. They cannot kill me here, and the Academy will punish them if they try. I can ignore them and move on.

"Is that the Fake Champion from the Generation of Legends?" another voice calls from a few seats away.

"Yeah, that's him! How pathetic. Generation of Legends? Pfff, he looks like he's from the Generation of Frauds."

"A Champion in Monster Felling 201? How did he even pass the test?"

Heat crawls up my neck, and a vein throbs in my forehead. I breathe through my nose and keep my shoulders loose. What they say does not matter. I earned my spot, and if I don't yet match the others' strength, that will be temporary.

A boot bumps my back. I turn, feeling my eyelid twitch, and am met with three identical smirking faces. I rise from the bleacher to leave and move to pick a new seat on the other side of the auditorium.

"Sit down, now. Class is commencing."

A gigantic minotaur walks through the bright oval arch that opens onto the arena floor. He steps to the center of the room and squares his horns. His fur looks dark and well-maintained, and his horns shine dully with scars that show past fights. His chest rises like the bellows of a forge. He lifts one hand, and a pearl of light forms above his palm and fills the space with a steady glow.

"I am Sir Braagh. You may refer to me as Sir or Professor Braagh. Welcome to Monster Felling 201," he says. His red eyes move from face to face. They land on me, one brow rising, yet he says nothing about my presence in his class.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"At its core, this class is simple. You will pass three Quests that I pick for you. We will run simulations here, and I will analyse your fighting style and explain which monsters are bad matchups for your skills. Monster Felling is, at its heart, about judging whether or not to get into a fight in the first place. A bad matchup can kill even the best of us. I will give you a short demonstration."

Professor Braagh raises his arm, and thick red metal crawls over his entire body. It spreads like quick iron, and it locks into plates that meet at clean seams. The armor covers him from head to toe. Two bright red circles burn where his eyes shine, and there is no slit for a mouth. When he speaks, the voice fills the air and comes from everywhere at once. It sounds deeper, and the stone under my boots seems to vibrate through my legs in response.

"I'm a melee fighter, specialized in the containment of poisonous monsters, undead, and their damn curses, and so on. My Skills are meant to make me invulnerable or more resistant to debuffs that would normally kill anybody else. However," he says as the armor thickens along his shoulders, "my Skills are not meant to face monsters that are capable of overwhelming force. Don't get fooled by my armor. If I meet a monster with piercing attacks, I will not feel as confident as I do when I face an acid-spitting monster. This is our first lesson. You need to know what Skills are meant to be used for. Do not base your Skills on how they look, what people think of them, or your underdeveloped intuition. At this moment, you are still weak and unspecialized."

The red armor plates seep into his body and pull back along his arm like a liquid. The magic glow fades, and his fur shows again.

"Today is all about demonstrations. I will put you in groups of five, and we will run drills in simulations. In the future, you will also have to bring your Squires with you, but for now, we will keep things simple."

The Minotaur draws out a long scroll that unfurls with a snap. The paper's faint smell of ash and resin permeates the room as he starts to read out names in a steady voice. "Those called, come to the front now. Give me a brief show of your Skills, then go stand where I say. Do not move around."

The students leave their seats and form a straight line in front of him. Their feet pad softly on the stone as they arrive, each person calling up a Skill in turn. Flames burst into existence, then vanish. Water splashes and then dissipates. A pair of antlers sprout and sink back into a brow as if it was never there. The professor nods or shakes his head in turn and points each student to a quadrant of the floor filled with runes that seem to mark out categories that I cannot yet read. He divides the room up quickly, watching everyone's stance and breathing after they've finished performing.

He calls the last few names, mine comes near the end. I step down from the stands and walk across the arena. When I stop, Professor Braagh lifts a hand.

"Jacob Cloud. I've seen your best Skill already. You're a Hell's Sword Skill Set user, right? With some Infernal shenanigans in the middle."

"Yes, sir," I say, and my voice carries well in this place.

"Go there, then." He points to a group of four near the east side.

He looks ready to call the next name, but I frown and ask my question because the word hangs in my head and needs air. "What am I being categorized as?"

"You're somehow signed up to Strategy 101, Cloud, and Traps and Cracks 301. You're a Guide-type."

Confusion moves across my face, and I see it pass over a few other faces as well. The professor nods when he notices.

"Sorry, every year I forget that several of you come straight from your first year. Trap experts, strategists, and those whose best ability is their knowledge are classified as Guides. Guides are the closest thing to a natural leader there is. You might not be the strongest. You might not be the fastest, nor the most dangerous. However, you are meant to be the glue of a party. Infernals, for example, occupy this role very naturally because of their field-control Skills and their knowledge."

He's not an idiot, Cloud. I think you might have lucked into a good teacher, King Baalrek says with a tone that I do not hear often.

"Dragonkin, for example, are usually Breakers. Breakers, as the name suggests, break things. They deliver as much damage as possible in the shortest amount of time. Every party needs at least one Breaker. If the Breaker in one team is overspecialized, meaning he's only able to take a few types of monsters, the protocol is for the team to have a second Breaker."

"What's your Class categorized as, sir?" someone asks from the line, and the voice comes from a boy nervously chewing his lower lip when he speaks.

"I'm a Shield. You will find it is rare to find one before you class up fully into the Platinum Rank. As you move further up, you will grow more and more specialized, with a few rare exceptions. You will still need to be an all-rounder. This is Ytrial, not the Adventurers' Guild. You will be able to fulfill any role as long as the threat is at your Rank. The point of this division is to have you face monsters much stronger than you while you rely on each other's abilities. The best teams fight at one full Rank above their own capabilities. That usually happens only after many years of practice."

I listen and keep my eyes on him. These ideas sound basic to a noble who grew up in the field, but no one in Clearwater ever explained it this clearly to me before. Not even Sir Greyson. When I think about it now, I decide that he must be a Shield-type as well.

"So, what are the main types in a team?" I ask.

"Guide, Breaker, Shield, Support, Dagger," the Minotaur replies. "I have already explained Guide, Breaker, and Shields. It is the enduring nature of my soul and my Skills that let me protect those in my party, that's what it means to be a Shield. I will add that there are different types of each. Some Guides specialize in traps, some Breakers use magic, and some use physical attacks. Shields follow the same pattern, and the point is what they resist best. Supports and Daggers fill the last roles. A Support can empower others with Skills or use tools, like an Alchemist who carries potions or an Engineer who uses contraptions. Some Supports act as Breakers in very niche cases. Daggers are stealth specialists. I even heard that your year has a very special Dagger among your midst."

"Huh?"

"King Vyrrak is a Dagger," the Minotaur says. "He is an expert in infiltration, in invisibility spells, and in who knows what else. That is rare for a Dragonkin. They make great Breakers or Shields."

For a Dragonkin to become a Dagger, King Baalrek says, it means his head was not screwed in right.

Professor Braagh finishes listing the categories and lifts his hand to point us to our new parties. He assigns groups of five with measured care. To my dismay, he points at three Elves and then points at me.

Oh no.

"With the rat?" the tallest Elf says. His voice sounds bored and sharp at the same time.

"I refuse," the second says.

"I think I can feel my stomach getting upset."

Professor Braagh shows a small smile that shifts the set of his muzzle. "I am aware of the enmity that you three have with Jacob Cloud, gentlemen. But if I wanted to be political and keep you separated, I would not be a good professor. This is your group until the end of the course."

He points at each of them and names what they do, and his tone stays even. "Althir is a Breaker, Elyndor is a Shield, and Ithriel is a Dagger. At your level, you three do not need Support yet. Cloud is your Guide."

"Sir, they're never going to listen to me," I say. The words leave my mouth before I can pull them back, and I stand there with open hands because that is the truth.

"Well, sucks to be you, Cloud," Professor Braagh says, and the grin shows that he means to test us. "The Academy is not a playground for petty squabbles. If you refuse to work with each other, you are free to fail the course. Oh, and if you did not know, Monster Felling is not only about individual prowess. I have the authority to fail you all if you do not pass a group assessment. Would you like to have an educated guess as to whether I will do that or not?"

I shut my eyes for a moment and rub my temples. My skin feels tight, and my fingers pick up the thrum of my pulse.

"If we don't pass the group assessment, which means we'll have to fight a stronger monster than the individual assessment, we don't pass the course?" I ask so that I can hear the rule said out loud.

"Not the class," Althir says. "The year."

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