The oppressive tension of the duel evaporated, leaving a strange quiet in its wake. The air, which moments ago had crackled with lightning and shrieked with wind, now tasted of sweat and dust. Fin stood in the center of the massive chamber, his body aching in places he didn't know he had, his mind replaying the final, impossible instant of the fight. The sudden cold, the whisper of the wind blade at his throat… it was a profound lesson in the vast gulf that could exist between two cultivators of the same Tier.

"So," Kellan's voice cut through his reverie. He was already walking towards the ridiculously out-of-place refrigerator, his movements as fluid and untroubled as if he'd just finished a light jog. "Are you going to check your gains, or are you just going to stand there with your jaw hanging open? You'll catch flies."

Fin's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the lingering shock. It wasn't just the speed; it was the concept. A perfect affinity. It was a step below his embodied affinity but by the power demonstrated in their duel, you would never know the difference. This world wasn't just a simple ladder of Tiers; it was a complex landscape of innate talent, hidden variables, and monstrous potential.

Clearing the thoughts from his head, he did as Kellan suggested and summoned his System screen, the familiar blue light a comforting presence in the face of such overwhelming new information. He anticipated some progress, but he was not prepared for the cascade of notifications that greeted him.

[Lightning Armament has reached Level 6]

[Lightning Armament has reached Level 7]

[Lightning Armament has reached Level 11]

A fresh wave of shock rocked Fin as he stared at the log. Six full levels. Six levels in a Unique, Evolved skill, gained in a spar that had lasted less than an hour. The pressure from Kellan, the constant need to adapt, the creative challenge of the 'no swords' rule, it had all combined into the most potent catalyst for growth he had ever experienced. It was utterly invigorating. He knew training with Kellan and Gavric would push him, but this was beyond anything he could have reasonably expected. And that wasn't all.

[Electromagnetic Synchronization has reached Level 10]

[Convergent Equilibrium has reached Level 17]

"I'm guessing you grabbed a few levels, judging from that stunned look on your face," Kellan said. He tossed a chilled bottle of water to Fin, who caught it deftly on instinct. Kellan was leaning against the fridge, sipping from his own bottle with an air of complete nonchalance.

"Yeah," Fin managed, his voice a little hoarse. He twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long, grateful sip. "Not just in Lightning Armament. Two of my passives leveled up as well." He looked at Kellan, a genuine, excited grin spreading across his face. "We should definitely do this more often."

Kellan stared at Fin for a long moment, then threw his head back and let out a laugh that echoed in the vast chamber. It was a genuine, unrestrained sound of pure amusement. "You really are like a miniature Gavric! I had you dead to rights, a blade to your throat, and all you can think about is how much fun it was and when you can do it again." He shook his head, still chuckling. "I'm surrounded by crazy people."

Fin laughed along with him, the tension and awe finally giving way to simple exhilaration. "I think you'd get along with a member of my brother's party. He says he feels the exact same way when dealing with Kilian."

"I pity him," Kellan said with a grin. "What's your brother like?"

"Kilian loves fighting just as much as I do, but he's more of a leader of men. He get's that from our father. He is very serious when it comes to leading his party around during battles but doesn't put many constraints on their personality. He allows them to be themselves."

Kellan's grin widened. "Oh, I definitely need to meet your brother. Sounds like he'd fit right in with my party. Speaking of which…" He sprang forward from his relaxed lean. "That's enough training for today. Let's go get some lunch. I'm starving and you need to meet more people."

"I'm always down for some food," Fin agreed instantly. "But fair warning, I have no idea how to act around most people. I'm not great with social dynamics."

"Just be yourself," Kellan said, heading toward the chamber exit. "They're going to love you. Or at least, they'll find you entertaining."

**

The contrast between the underclassmen and upperclassmen cafeterias was so stark it gave Fin a sense of cultural whiplash. The first- and second-year dining hall was a place of barely-controlled chaos. A constant roar of conversation, the clatter of wooden trays on worn wooden tables, and the smell of bland, mass-produced stew and bread. Fights, both verbal and physical, were common as students postured and vied for dominance.

Here, it was a different world. The chamber was cavernous, with a high, vaulted ceiling and long tables made of dark, polished wood. Soft, magical light emanated from floating orbs, casting a warm glow over the entire room. The air was filled with a low, pleasant hum of hushed conversations. Students were gathered in small groups of five to ten, talking quietly amongst themselves. There was no fighting, no shouting, no posturing. Just people eating with their friends.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"This feels weird," Fin said, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer civility of it all.

"I had the same feeling when I came here for the first time," Kellan said, clapping him on the back. "It's a different culture. By the time you get to third year, you've either learned how to handle yourself or you've been weeded out. There's less to prove." He grinned. "You'll get used to it. The food helps."

Kellan grabbed a heavy ceramic tray and joined the queue, with Fin right on his tail. And he saw immediately what Kellan meant. The food for the lower years was practical, designed for sustenance over flavor. Here, it was luxury. Fin's eyes went wide as he saw the options: thick, juicy steaks from some kind of Tier Two beast, glistening roasted fowl, vegetables he didn't even recognize, and a dozen different sauces and sides. The smell wafting from the serving line was intoxicating, and it took all of his willpower not to start eating as he piled his plate high with two steaks, a scoop of what looked like creamy mashed potatoes, and a colorful medley of diced fruit.

"Careful not to load up too much," Kellan advised, selecting his own portions with practiced efficiency. "The others will mock you mercilessly if you can't finish everything. And this food packs a punch if you're not used to it."

"Is that experience talking?" Fin asked.

"Henrik still brings up the 'Great Pie Incident' from our second year," Kellan admitted with a rueful shake of his head. "I may have overestimated my capacity for dessert and mana."

He followed Kellan through the maze of tables toward a group already seated in a corner booth. He could hear their argument before they even arrived.

"I'm telling you, my father had to personally intervene to stop the Korr representative from attacking an Abbot," a girl with deep navy-blue hair insisted. Intricate, swirling tattoos covered all of her exposed skin, her arms, her neck, her hands, stopping cleanly at her jawline. The patterns seemed to shift slightly as she gestured, responding to her emotions.

A boy with shockingly orange eyes and bright, canary-yellow hair pointed a half-eaten rib bone at her. His features were sharp and angular, almost elfin, and his skin had a faint golden undertone. "And I'm telling you, Freya, that no one would be that stupid. Attacking an Abbot from Abnoria? They would essentially be asking for a holy war and blocking all divine healing magic from their entire country. It's political suicide."

Freya's tattoos darkened visibly as her irritation grew. She snatched the bone from his hand and chucked it at his head, but it froze mid-air, stopping a mere inch from his forehead in a shimmer of translucent energy. "Henrik, you're such an ass! We've known each other for four years, and you still think I'd make something like that up?"

"I don't think you're lying," Henrik said, with infuriating calm, plucking the suspended none from the air and taking another bite. "I just refuse to believe in that level of idiocy from a national diplomat. The geopolitical ramifications alone would…"

"Here we go," the third person at the table murmured. She had soft brown hair that caught the magical light with hints of gold, and her green eyes held an expression of long-suffering patience. Everything about her presence seemed deliberately understated, from her quiet voice to her simple accessories, yet somehow, she commanded attention without trying.

Henrik gestured the bone toward her. "Besides, Nikole doesn't believe you either. Right, Nikole?"

Nikole, sighed softly, not looking up from her methodical dissection of what appeared to be some kind of exotic fish. "No, and no. I am not getting into one of your insane arguments. I am trying to enjoy my lunch."

"I agree with Nikole," Kellan announced, setting his tray down with a thud as he slid into the booth beside Henrik, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders. "The two of you argued for two hours about who would be first to enter a dungeon the other day, even though we were all in the same instance and it literally didn't matter."

"Yeah, but he was trying to take the lead tanking role even though my Earth Golem is a better tank than his Stasis Field!" Freya protested.

Henrik's orange eyes flashed. "Your golem is slow and predictable. My field can adapt to…"

"Yeah, nope," Nikole interrupted, finally looking up from her meal. "I felt years of my life wither away listening to you two." She turned a warm gaze toward Fin, and he felt instantly evaluated and catalogued. "Hello, Fin. It's so nice to finally meet you in person."

She extended a hand across the table. Fin, startled to be addressed by name, hesitated for a second before accepting it. Her grip was firm and confident.

"How do you know my name?" Fin asked.

Nikole smiled, a subtle, intelligent expression that suggested she knew far more than she was letting on. "Well, let's see. You look young, far too young to be an upperclassman, even though you've clearly been through your Tier Two transformation. You're walking around with this guy," she said, pointing a thumb at Kellan, who was now stuffing a large piece of steak into his mouth with gusto. "And, most importantly, I'm part of House Behnke. We literally specialize in gathering and verifying information. It's our trade."

"What kind of information?" Fin asked, thinking about the golem attack briefly despite himself.

"Political intelligence, mostly. Trade agreements, noble house movements, military positioning." Nikole's smile became slightly sharper. "My family serves in advisory roles to the King. Information is power, and power is survival."

"She'll know your favorite color and what you ate for breakfast three weeks ago by the end of lunch," Freya added with a grin. As she spoke, the tattoo of a wolf on her forearm seemed to shift, its head briefly becoming three-dimensional and letting out a silent, inky yawn before melting back into her skin.

Fin stared at the living artwork earning a smirk from Freya.

"Hush, you," Nikole said, though her eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Anyways, sit, sit. We don't bite. Much."

Fin sat down beside Nikole, the rich aroma from his plate almost making him dizzy. He quietly began to eat as the friends fell back into their easy, chaotic rhythm, talking about classes, missions, and things that had little to no meaning to him. But he listened, a small smile on his face. He watched Henrik and Freya bicker, their insults laced with an underlying affection he was just beginning to understand. He saw Kellan act as the group's boisterous, cheerful core, and different from his stoic presence in Gavric's class. Nikole as its calm, observant anchor. They were a unit, a strange, mismatched family forged in the crucible of the academy.

It was a dynamic so foreign to his own experience. His life, both on Earth and here, had been a largely solitary pursuit of knowledge and, more recently, survival. He had companions, Ren and Annie, but this felt different. This was true friendship.

Maybe, he thought, as he took another bite of the best steak he'd ever tasted. Maybe I should get more friends.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.