They returned to Scalebound Citadel to continue their remaining years at the academy. But this time, two familiar figures were missing.
Zebion and Zeke had already completed their academy years as they they were no longer students—they were now official Adventurers, working at the guildhouse in Blossomdale.
Zeke had reached Level 25, earning the rank of Intermediate.
Zebion wasn't far behind. At Level 23, he too had secured the rank of Intermediate, standing proudly beside their eldest brother.
When Danir heard about their achievements, something inside him ignited.
The Level 25 and Intermediate rank was no longer just a distant dream—it was a measurable goal.
Instead of feeling discouraged, he felt driven. Fired up.
Thinking that if they could reach it, then so could he.
Now that only four of his brothers remained in the academy, Danir knew he had to be more careful. Without Zeke and Zebion around, the balance felt different. The protective presence was thinner. For that Leopoldo was still there.
Danir made it a habit to avoid him—changing hallways, leaving classrooms early, blending into crowds. He refused to give his longtime bully any opportunity.
His sophomore year began with a heavier academic focus on combat endurance and practical discipline. The instructors pushed them harder than before.
Soon, discussions turned toward their next challenge: Novice-level Demonic Skeletons in the Labyrinth Training Field.
Unlike slimes, these creatures were humanoid. They wielded rusted swords, cracked shields, even bows. They moved with stiff but coordinated motions, making them far more dangerous than mindless blobs of slime.
The atmosphere in class shifted.
Excitement. Tension. Anticipation. As for most students, it would be their first time facing weapon-bearing monsters.
But for Danir—it was another step forward. Another chance to grow stronger.
The party reunited.
After months apart, they gathered once again inside the academy grounds, standing in their usual corner near the training hall. There was a noticeable difference in all of them.
It wasn't just Danir who had grown stronger.
Everyone had improved.
Merki – Level 15 Knight-Paladin
Merki stood taller than before, his armor fitting more solidly over his broader frame. During the break, he had trained consistently and added +200 to his Strength, Speed, and Endurance.
He had become an even sturdier frontline fighter.
BP: 4,650
MP: 2,175
STR: 1,700
SPD: 950
END: 950
INT: 75
Reliable. Durable. The kind of shield every party needed.
Poyach – Level 8 Fire Mage
Poyach, on the other hand, looked exactly the same.
Soft hands. Perfectly styled hair. Expensive robes.
He had chosen the Fire Element as his specialty, but during the break, he hadn't pushed himself at all. Being the spoiled son of a noble family, he had never once experienced real pressure. Training was optional to him.
Effort was optional as his growth reflected that.
BP: 550
MP: 2,900
STR: 40
SPD: 80
END: 40
INT: 1,600
Tonio – Level 11 Brawler.
Tonio, Poyach's best close friend, had surprised everyone.
He had worked hard physically during the break as he added +500 Strength, determined not to remain weak in close combat especially he was one of the party's vanguard, a frontline.
There was more confidence in his posture now.
More resolve in his eyes.
BP: 3800+500=4,300
MP: 1550+500=2,050
STR: 1100+500=1,600
SPD: 1100+500=1,600
END: 550+500+=1,050
INT: 550+500=1,050
Now he became a more reliable frontliner in the party.
Marion – Level 14 Gunslinger
Marion leaned casually against the wall, adjusting the holster of his firearm. He, too, had gained +500 Strength, further enhancing the recoil control and raw power behind his shots.
His build had grown leaner, sharper—like a weapon refined.
BP: 3,380
MP: 510
STR: 2,800
SPD: 280
END: 280
INT: 280
High physical output. Low mana dependency.
Efficient. Precise. Deadly at range.
As Danir observed them, he felt a quiet satisfaction. They weren't the same inexperienced freshmen anymore. They had grown. Stronger bodies. Sharper eyes.
And soon—they would test that growth against Demonic Skeletons in the Labyrinth Training Field.
Danir clenched his fist slightly.
This time, they weren't just surviving. They were hunting.
The day finally came for them to face the Demonic Skeletons. Their task sounded simple: kill twenty skeleton warriors and bring back their skulls as proof.
But everyone knew it wouldn't be as easy as it sounded. Unlike slimes, which crawled and dissolved unpredictably, skeleton warriors stood upright. They had arms, legs, and rusted weapons clutched in bony fingers. Some carried chipped swords and cracked shields. Others pulled back bowstrings with unnatural precision, their empty eye sockets glowing faintly in the dark corridors of the Labyrinth Training Field.
The moment Danir and his party stepped inside, they spotted them. Dozens!
The air felt colder somehow, then the battle began. Fire erupted from Poyach's staff, lighting up the corridor in orange flashes. Tonio's water spells sliced through the air like sharpened currents. Marion's gunshot echoed violently against stone walls. Merki charged forward with his shield raised, smashing straight into a skeleton and shattering it apart.
Metal clashed!
Arrows flew!
Magic burst!
Bones cracked! and scattered across the ground.
For the others, it was intense—controlled chaos. But for Danir…it felt different.
A year ago, a single slime had nearly killed him. He still remembered the fear, the helplessness, the humiliation of barely surviving.
But now? The skeletons moved in patterns.
Their swings were stiff.
Their steps predictable.
Their coordination limited.
Danir exhaled slowly. Launched his Ice Shards Daggers! With one cast. A skeleton froze mid-swing. He ran and shattered it instantly with his Quillon daggers.
Another cast.
Another frozen skeleton warrior collapsed into fragments.
He could feel the difference in his mana reserves now. He could cast at least seven more times before depletion. That small margin gave him confidence—control.
He moved calmly, efficiently, conserving motion. Freeze. Strike. Break.
By the end of the skirmish, he had handled nearly half the battlefield. They reached twenty skulls faster than expected. But no one suggested leaving.
Merki glanced around. "We can keep going."
So they did.
Thirty!
Forty!
Fifty!
They cleared the entire area until not a single skeleton remained standing.
It wasn't just a mission anymore—it was experience gained, levels earned. Each of them rose by three levels that day. And for the first time, Danir didn't feel like he was barely keeping up. He felt like he was contributing.
The semester passed faster than their first one. Maybe because they were no longer frightened freshmen. Maybe because strength shortened fear.
Finally, the semester ended again as they passed and advanced to become Juniors next semester.
Meanwhile, the Granger name continued to rise.
Nezcar earned Intermediate rank through his Sphere of Power assessment, matching Zeke and Zebion.
Then came Alec, known as the Granger's prodigy.
For the first time in academy history, someone jumped directly into Elite rank. He surpassed even their father's record.
The academy buzzed for days. Danir listened quietly.
He turned nine just right before that semester ended.
When break arrived, he made his decision that he would not go home.
"We're throwing the grandest party without you," Alec teased, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Danir rolled his eyes. "Party your pale ass. What are you inviting? Snowmen?"
Nezcar stepped in before it escalated. "We're leaving. Try not to die."
Yuri approached last, pressing a pouch into Danir's hand. "Enough for the cold season."
The weight of it surprised him. Inside were silver zens—this world's currency as it have three kinds that its value depends on it such as bronze, silver, and gold. One gold is equivalent a thousand silver. One silver equivalent to a thousand bronze.
There were one hundred silver zens inside.
More than enough for six months of lodging and meals in Scalebound Citadel.
Danir closed the pouch slowly.
The academy would soon grow quiet. No brothers. No noise. No crowds. Just him and the sound of his own breathing during training.
He looked at the towering academy buildings one more time as the gates slowly emptied.
Autumn break began. Then winter followed.
Danir didn't tell anyone about his plan.
While most students returned home to warm meals and family gatherings, he stayed behind in Scalebound Citadel. The academy slowly emptied, its grand halls turning quiet and hollow.
At night, the corridors echoed with nothing but the wind brushing against stained glass windows.
It felt lonelier than he expected, but that was the point.
He slipped into the training hall before sunrise on the first day of break. No instructors. No classmates. No brothers. Just him. And the sound of his own breathing.
He trained alone day after day. A thousand squat-thrusts.
Down! Kick! Push! Jump!
Again!
And again!
And again..!
Some days his muscles felt like stone. Other days they felt like they were tearing apart from the inside. His palms hardened. His shoulders burned constantly. His legs trembled even when he stood still.
There were mornings he stared at the cold stone floor and thought—"Why am I even doing this?"
But then he would remember Alec's Elite rank.
The words "weak", "pathetic", "ungifted."
Because of that, it made him to start moving again.
He allowed himself only one or two rest days between intense cycles. Even then, he never truly stopped—stretching, light drills, mana control exercises.
The seasons changed outside.
Autumn leaves fell beyond the academy walls. Winter snow blanketed the rooftops. Inside the training hall, sweat soaked the wooden floorboards almost daily.
Days blurred.
Weeks blurred.
Months passed.
Pain became routine.
Loneliness became normal. But so did progress.
By the end of the six-month break—He had gained +1,500 additional attributes to Strength, Speed, and Endurance.
One evening, after completing his final set, Danir dropped to one knee, breathing heavily.
"Grimoire… open."
The familiar glow illuminated the empty hall.
Danir Granger – Level 15 BladeMagus
BP: 5,775
MP: 1,500
STR: 5,279
SPD: 5,277
END: 5,275
INT: 750
He stared at the numbers for a long time. Within that 150 days out of 180. One thousand squat-thrusts each of that 150 days. Six months. Three months of autumn. Three months of winter. Thirty days per month in this world with twenty-four hours in each day.
He slowly closed the grimoire. The training hall was silent. Snow drifted softly outside the high windows. Danir leaned back against the wall and let out a quiet breath.
The third semester arrived with a heavier air.
They finally became Juniors. No longer inexperienced.
This time, the academy prepared them for something greater. Intermediate-rank monsters.
Scriptors stood before the class, projecting illusionary images of enlarged slimes and towering skeleton warriors.
"Intermediate Slimes," one Scriptors explained, "possess denser cores and elemental resistance. Their regeneration speed doubles."
The image shifted.
"Intermediate Skeleton Warriors wield reinforced weapons. Their coordination improves. Their reaction time increases."
The creatures were bigger. Taller. Stronger.
Whispers spread through the classroom. But Danir and his party exchanged quiet glances. They already knew. They had fought enough.
When they entered the Labyrinth Training Field again, the difference was clear.
The slimes were nearly twice the size of the novice ones, their gelatinous bodies rippling with thicker density. The skeleton warriors stood broader, their rusted blades replaced with sturdier steel.
Yet—to Danir, the change felt superficial.
More durability. More force. But the patterns Still there, predictable.
He moved with calm efficiency.
Freeze! Shatter! Step aside! Repeat!
His party followed smoothly—Merki anchoring the front, Tonio supporting with precision water control, Marion firing clean shots, Poyach launching explosive bursts from the rear.
They passed the field with far less struggle than expected. No panic. No desperation. Just execution.
Danir turned ten that year.
Another moving-up ceremony followed and once again—the Grangers name echoed through the academy hall.
Ulfzar and Caspi both achieved Intermediate rank as applause filled the chamber.
Pride radiated from the family name.
Danir clapped too.
But inside—the weight pressed heavier.
Zeke — Intermediate.
Zebion — Intermediate.
Nezcar — Intermediate.
Ulfzar — Intermediate.
Caspi — Intermediate.
Alec — Elite.
And him?
The word "ungifted" kept on running in his mind. "What if I will ended up a disappointment again?"
That night, he made his decision. He would not go home again.
This time, he didn't sneak into the training hall.
He walked past it and desperately entered the Labyrinth.
The Labyrinth Training Field had four areas.
The fourth—its deepest point—was a circular, dome-shaped chamber at its heart.
Six elite-level water-element slimes he didn't knew waited there. They were meant to be the final assessment for graduating students.
Danir entered fully equipped. Blade secured at his waist. Food supplies packed tightly. Mana potions purchased with saved silver zens.
While no one saw him go. He spent days inside the labyrinth. He did not rush, area by area.
He cleared the first area methodically. Then the second. Then the third.
For days, he remained inside the Labyrinth. He even set up camp in empty corridors. Cooked simple meals over a controlled flame.
Then continued.
Monster after monster fell. His movements sharpened with every encounter.
By the time he reached the fourth area—
He no longer felt like the weakest Granger.
The dome chamber was silent.
Six massive water-element slimes pulsed slowly in the center, their cores glowing faint blue. Their bodies radiated pressure far beyond intermediate rank. Danir observed from the shadows.
He tested one first with one of his Ice Shard Dagger.
That one blade froze part of the surface—then melted instantly.
The slime absorbed the cold. Its controlled warm water body began dissolving the ice.
He narrowed his eyes.
"So that's how it is." He adjusted.
One full cast per target with no half-measures.
He drank a mana potion.
Then stepped forward and Freeze! Shatter! Step aside! Repeat!
A precise burst of concentrated frost struck the first slime. Its surface hardened completely for several seconds.
Danir dashed forward—and shattered the frozen mass in one decisive strike.
The remaining five reacted.
Water surged!
The chamber trembled.
He moved without hesitation.
Potion... Cast, Freeze! Shatter!
Again...
And again..!
Each freeze lasted only seconds. Each strike had to be perfect, that with one mistake—and he would be swallowed whole knowing that he had nobody who would help him on his side.
But he did not falter.
Minutes later—the chamber fell silent.
Six elite-level slimes were all eliminated by him, alone.
After the long days of battle, he went out immediately from the Labyrinth Training Field and returned to his inn.
Danir checked his status while he lay down on his bed inside his inn. "Grimoire. Open."
Danir Granger — Level 25 BladeMagus:
BP: 6,275
MP: 2,000
STR: 5,779
SPD: 5,777
END: 5,775
INT: 1,205
In his grimoire's second page: Ice Shards Daggers
In his grimoire's third page: His secondly acquired magic with water element from the slime he killed.
He had now the same level Zeke had reached. The same milestone that once felt unreachable. Danir stared at the numbers in silence, then later closed his grimoire and fell into asleep.
Weeks later, break ended.
The fourth and final semester began.
When Adventurer-Scriptors conducted their routine inspection of the Labyrinth—they stopped at the fourth area.
Silence.
No elite slimes.
No cores.
No remains as confusion spread.
"These creatures do not die easily." Helga muttered.
"There are no battle scars on the surrounding structure," Hilda observed.
No signs of group combat.
Someone had cleared the depth cleanly, precisely, and whoever did it—they believed that they were far beyond a normal scholars. But no one knew who.
Danir walked through the academy gates that morning like any other scholars, quiet and unnoticed.