The dining hall was quieter than usual. Not silent—but heavier.
Forks scraped. Boots shuffled. Everyone was still processing the night before, even if they weren't saying it out loud. It was the kind of silence that followed noise too big to ignore.
And in the middle of it, three cadets tried to eat like nothing had changed.
"That thing wasn't a monster," Torren muttered. "It was a f*cking natural disaster."
Veil scoffed, mouth full. "And the fact that someone survived it is even dumber."
Rheya poked at her tray, but didn't lift her eyes. She hadn't slept much. None of them had. The images from the broadcast kept flashing behind her lids every time she blinked—and yet… all she could think about was him.
She glanced at Kaelen's usual spot. "He already finished. Cleaned his tray before we even sat down."
Torren raised a brow. "You serious? Guy didn't even chew yesterday. Just swallowed and vanished."
Veil smirked. "He doesn't stick around. Like he's allergic to sitting still."
"He always trains after eating," Rheya said, half to herself. "Like food's just fuel. Nothing else."
That was Kaelen. Efficient. Quiet. Disconnected. Like he'd been built for a different world—one with fewer words and more blood.
She didn't say that part out loud.
"Did you see how Kaelen reacted during the broadcast?"
Veil blinked. "What do you mean?"
Torren nodded slowly. "Yeah. Even when that thing crushed the evac transport—he just stared. Like he'd seen it before."
"Like he expected it," Rheya added.
She didn't know why she'd said that. But it felt true. There was something in his eyes—not surprise, not even fear. Just… recognition.
"What if someone knows who he really is?"
The question slipped out before she could stop it. It wasn't just curiosity. It was need—the feeling that if she didn't understand him soon, she might never get the chance.
Veil leaned back. "Maybe one of the instructors."
Torren grunted. "Caldera, maybe. She was the one who brought him in, right?"
Rheya nodded slowly. "If anyone knows… it's her."
She thought of the way Caldera watched him during training—not like a teacher. Like a handler. Like someone watching a weapon she wasn't sure she could control.
"Think she'd talk?"
"Only if she wants to," Veil muttered. "And she rarely does."
Then Rheya spoke again, quieter this time. "You know what really got me?"
They both looked at her.
"There was no portal. Not even a trace. That whole sector wasn't linked. No entrance, no exit. Just the monsters."
Veil frowned. "What do you mean?"
"It wasn't an official zone. No mana gate, no beacon anchors. The region wasn't being monitored, so no one had prepped a transit portal."
Torren swore. "So the break hit before anyone even knew the dungeon existed."
"Exactly," Rheya said. "And without infrastructure, they had no fallback. No auto-exit bands. No safety warp like we have during academy runs."
"That's why the casualties were so high," Veil muttered.
"Yeah. Because they didn't have a way out."
Torren leaned forward, voice low. "And no way in either. That's why the heavy-hitters showed up late."
"Right," Rheya said. "Even the top guilds couldn't gate in. They had to deploy the old way—ground routes. And by then… it was already bad."
She let out a breath. Her tray was still half full, but her appetite was long gone.
Then Rheya smiled—just slightly. "Alright. If we're gonna dig into someone else's story… we should probably be honest about our own."
Veil raised an eyebrow. "What, like secrets and scars over lunch?"
"Exactly," she said. "Let's start with the scars."