After we left the vicinity of the array, we encountered no more mutated beasts, orcs, or trolls until dawn. It was a shame; by the third day, most of the zone would already be swept clean. The opportunity to gain any points had already vanished—unless we went back to kill the troll, which we had no intention of doing.
The final day of the entrance exam was infamous. They called it Elimination Day—a brutal, chaotic free-for-all where candidates turned on one another, each fighting a desperate bid to climb the ranks. The academy's Headmasters allowed it, so long as one rule was followed: no killing. A student could steal another's points, but they were forbidden from taking a life.
Those who failed still had a chance. They could return the following year, often assigned to bolster numbers in underpopulated districts. If they failed again, they served another purpose: stepping stones for the next wave of talents. With the age limit set between seventeen and twenty, each aspirant had four chances—four years to prove they belonged. After that, the gates of the academy would forever be closed to them.
"It's a pity we didn't find any more teammates," I said, sighing. "But I guess we'll manage, as long as we don't run into Roger. That guy's got a small army behind him. He may not be strong himself, but he's a damn good leader. Don't you have any hunter friends you could call in?"
"If they found out I applied this year, I'd be the one getting hunted," Tom replied dryly. "Hunters only band together when facing non-human threats. The rest of the time, they're too busy trying to fight each other to sharpen their skills—assuming they can't find strong prey. And what makes you think they'd enjoy your company?"
He snorted. "They'd probably try to kill you before even considering helping."
"Competitive much?" I muttered, looking at the ground.
We were scanning the area when a flicker of movement caught our attention—a dense swarm of insects spiralling through the air ahead of us. The way they moved, circling like sentinels, triggered something in my memory. It didn't take long to recognize them.
Tarantula hawk wasps. Siberian moths. Thornwings.
Definitely Risa's work. Those bugs had cost me a small fortune.
"Looks like we might have another teammate after all," I said, a grin tugging at my lips.
"Bugs?" Tom gave me a look like I'd lost my mind.
"Not the bugs—well, yes… but also no. I mean the one controlling them," I clarified, gesturing toward the swarm.
As we walked ahead, we found a group of candidates lying on the ground, all knocked out cold. Their bodies were covered in bug bites, swollen and red. None of them were dead, but from the looks of it, they didn't stand a chance of passing the exam anymore.
The moment we got close to the area the swarm was guarding, the insects launched at us with alarming speed, their wings humming like a warning drumbeat.
Tom tried to attack the swarm, but I stopped him. I pulled off the glove from my right hand and held it out toward the bugs.
Tom didn't understand what I was doing at first, but then the insects began to settle. Some landed gently on my hand, while the rest returned to the sky. One of them flew back toward the place they were guarding.
"You have bug friends?" Tom asked, a faint smile on his face, clearly a little amazed by the situation.
"Not exactly," I replied. "I ran a few experiments on them, so they recognize my scent. It's more of a submissive bond than anything friendly—unlike Risa, who treats them like family. Honestly, I still find that idea... unsettling."
"Young master?" a voice called out behind us.
Our gaze fell upon a girl around seventeen or eighteen approaching. She had pale skin, striking red hair, and golden-yellow eyes that glinted under the light. Her dark green combat suit hugged her frame, built for speed and agility.
"I wasn't aware you wanted to team up with us," she said, stopping a few steps away.
"Don't flatter yourself—and skip the formalities. We just happened to walk into you," I explained the situation with a smile. "This is my friend, Tom."
"It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintance," Tom said with a respectful nod.
Risa returned the gesture with a silent nod of her own. I turned to stare at him, wondering if I'd heard him right.
"Why are you speaking so formally?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I thought this was how you talked," Tom replied earnestly.
Is he… No way… I thought, shifting my gaze between his face and Risa's, then back again—repeating the process a few times just to be sure.
"Anyway," I said, choosing to ignore the implication. "Did you meet up with Copper?"
"His signal got cut off. I thought you knew?" Risa answered, her tone neutral.
"No? I saved him from the—" I began, but then it hit me.
Why would orcs keep any prisoners?
"As I said… you can't save them all," Ryuk's voice whispered in my ear.
The realization crashed down like a wave.
The shamans—they'd disguised themselves as prisoners. I hadn't rescued Copper. I'd helped the Stellar Path shamans escape. I acted on impulse, thinking I was doing the right thing… but they had played me. And I fell for it.
I took a deep breath and looked up at the sky before slowly exhaling, letting the weight settle in my chest.
"Have there been any other casualties?" I asked, setting the matter aside for now.
"Not that I'm aware of," Risa replied. "The others seem to be doing fine on their own. Some have teamed up with other candidates. However…" she paused, her expression hardening. "Roger Silverheart is gathering a large number of candidates at one of the orc outposts he took over. He might be planning to eliminate anyone who refuses to join him."
"That does sound like him," I muttered. "Very well. Tell the others to clear out of that area. If he spots their suits, he might eliminate them on sight."
Risa nodded in silent agreement.
"So all these people," Tom began, looking ahead thoughtfully. "They work for you?"
"They are my security," I answered. "But we're all friends. We were raised in the same place."
Tom let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"It's fine," I said softly. "It's just… his name will be hard to forget, but…" My voice trailed off, the words refusing to come.
I've grown too soft. I thought to myself.
"Alright," I said, straightening my posture. "We can't let this loss slow us down. Tell everyone to keep an eye out for Roger. He likely won't leave his position—he'll send squads in all directions to hunt down those who refused to join him."
"Have our people follow those squads after they leave the orc outpost. If any of us run into them, they should pretend to be part of the group. Since most of Roger's recruits won't recognize our suits, they should be able to blend in without trouble. Only Roger himself is likely to notice."
"But if anyone does catch on," I continued. "Tell them to report back to us immediately and fall back. It is highly unlikely for us to win if they outnumber us."
"It has been done, sire," Wally announced in his clear, synthetic voice.
Tom flinched slightly, eyes widening. He hadn't heard Wally speak since our fight.
"Even an AI?" he asked, genuinely surprised.
"You'll get used to it," Risa said at last, her voice calm.