『The Mavericks』
The Gate sealed shut behind them with that familiar, almost gentle hum—like a door clicking closed on a bad dream.
The fake sky flickered back on overhead. Too blue. Too perfect. The kind of bright that felt fake after you'd just tasted real danger.
Outside the simulator exit, the usual post-dungeon mess was already in full swing.
Students bunched up in nervous little knots, voices overlapping, high and jagged.
"Did you *see* that thing's claws?"
"That wasn't even a standard mob—what rank was that Hobgoblin variant?"
"Someone got yanked—med bay lights were flashing red—"
"Instructors are losing their minds in the observation room."
Jasper stayed near the edge of the crowd, hands shoved deep in his pockets, trying to force his heartbeat back to something resembling normal. The Summoner's Key hung warm against his chest, gold catching one stray beam of simulated sunlight before he quickly tugged his collar higher to hide it.
Not ready for questions.
Not even close.
Arti appeared at his side as he'd teleported, arms stretched high over his head, spine popping audibly.
"Well," he drawled, voice lazy, "that was certainly *something*."
Jasper let out a tired snort. "You and I have violently different ideas of 'something.'"
Sieg materialized a second later—silent footsteps, as always. His crimson eyes flicked once over Jasper's face, a quick inventory, then away.
"Minor injuries only," Sieg reported, voice flat. "No fatalities."
Arti shot him a sidelong glance. "Do you ever just… I don't know… exhale like a normal person?"
Sieg considered the question seriously. Tilted his head half a degree.
"…I am exhaling."
Jasper barked a short, surprised laugh despite himself. "Bro sounds like he's reading from a malfunctioning social script."
Sieg didn't reply.
But the tiniest muscle at the corner of his mouth flickered—almost, *almost* a smile.
They started walking without discussion. Away from the shouting, away from the adrenaline junkies reenacting near-death experiences. The campus paths widened, sunlight slanting longer through the trees. Shadows stretched lazily and gold across the grass. The further they got from the simulation hall, the more the air felt… honest. Less manufactured.
Arti finally broke the quiet, hands jammed in his own pockets now.
"So."
A sideways glance at Jasper.
"You gonna tell us what the actual fuck that was back there?"
Jasper kept his eyes on the path ahead.
"Which part?"
"The part where the entire instance lagged like a shitty VR mod, and you looked two seconds away from pulling an entirely new monster out of your soul through sheer panic."
Jasper scratched the back of his neck—an old nervous habit. "—Yeah. That part."
He exhaled through his nose.
"Honestly? I don't fucking know."
Not a complete lie.
Just… selectively edited truth.
Sieg spoke without turning his head.
"Your Summon evolved mid-combat?"
Jasper sighed.
"Not exactly. It's been evolved since the Symbiosis thing, remember? I just tried to use it for the first time. Besides, F to E+? Big leap for someone ranked dead last since enrollment."
Arti let out a low, appreciative whistle.
"Well, it did not look like just a leap. That was a goddamn catapult."
Jasper smirked despite the exhaustion sitting heavy in his bones.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Hey." Arti shrugged. "I call it like I see it."
They reached the campus perimeter. Beyond the ornate iron gates, the real city hummed—cars sliding past, distant horns, the low murmur of actual human life that acted like it had no idea Gates even existed.
Arti jerked his chin toward the little public park across the street. "Sit for a minute?"
Jasper shrugged. "Yeah. Why not?"
Sieg simply followed.
The three of them claimed the bench under the biggest oak. Its branches spread wide enough to feel like a roof—soft green filter over everything. A breeze moved through, carrying the faint smell of cut grass and distant street food.
For a long stretch, nobody said anything.
And weirdly… it didn't feel weird.
Just quiet.
The kind of quiet that settles when people are too tired to pretend.
Jasper leaned back, head resting against the rough bark behind him, eyes tracing patterns through the leaves.
"…You guys ever just stop and think about how fucked it is that this is normal now?"
Arti glanced over. "Normal what?"
"This." Jasper waved a lazy hand at the sky, the distant campus buildings, the invisible line between their world and the ones inside the Gates. "Summoners. Dungeons. Near-death experiences before lunch. We're fifteen, yeah, whatever—and we talk about dying like it's a Tuesday."
Sieg answered first, voice low.
"It was never normal."
Jasper huffed a small laugh. "Yeah, I read the history modules too. I just mean… for *us*. We didn't choose this shit. It chose us."
Arti leaned back too, long legs stretched out, blue eyes half-lidded against the light.
"We grew up with it on the news. On the feeds. Kids our age were already dying in low-rank Gates by the time we hit middle school." He paused. Voice quieter. "Doesn't mean it stops feeling surreal sometimes."
Another beat of silence.
Heavier this time.
Arti shifted, elbows on his knees now.
"Okay. New topic."
He looked between them.
"Goals."
Jasper blinked. "Goals?"
"Yeah. We just survived our first real dungeon run together. Feels like the perfect moment to figure out why the hell we're doing any of this."
Sieg gave a single, decisive nod. "Logical."
Jasper groaned and dropped his face into his hands for a second. "You two are *way* too intense."
Arti grinned, sharp and playful. "You went first last time. Your turn."
"Why is it always my turn?"
"Because you're clearly the tragic protagonist of this little disaster story."
Jasper lifted his head just to glare. "Wow. Thanks."
"Anytime." Arti's grin softened. "C'mon. Say it."
Jasper stared at the cracked pavement between his sneakers for a long time.
Then, quieter than he meant to:
"…I just wanna be strong."
The words felt small when they left his mouth.
He hurried to keep going before the embarrassment could fully sink in.
"Not famous. Not rich. Not any of that main-character bullshit. Just… strong enough that when something bad happens, I don't have to stand there like a useless fucking statue."
The memory of the Hobgoblin's rusted cleaver flashed behind his eyes. The split-second freeze. The sick certainty he was about to watch someone die because he couldn't move fast enough.
He clenched his fist once, hard.
"Strong enough to actually *do* something when it counts."
The breeze moved through the leaves again.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody teased.
Sieg spoke first.
"That ain't stupid."
Jasper glanced over, surprised.
Sieg met his eyes—direct, unflinching.
"A valid ideal."
Arti nodded slowly. "Basic. But solid."
Jasper rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Gee. Thanks for the rave review."
Arti chuckled under his breath. "My turn, then."
He leaned back, arms folded behind his head, staring up into the branches like the answer was written there.
"Pretty straightforward for me."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Lemme guess. Strongest swordsman alive?"
Arti went very still for half a heartbeat.
Then—
"…Something like that."
Jasper smirked. "Knew it."
Arti kept going, faster now, like he wanted to outrun the next question.
"I've been holding a sword since I could walk. Comes with the territory when you grow up in a squire line attached to Pendragon."
The name landed like a dropped coin in still water.
Jasper blinked.
"Wait. You're actually—?"
"Yeah." Arti's voice flattened. "Squire. Third-gen retainer track. The whole deal."
Jasper let out a low whistle. "Dude. That's huge. Why the hell didn't you say anything?"
Arti shrugged—too quick, too casual.
"It's not… I mean, it sounds cooler than it is."
He looked away, jaw tight for the first time all afternoon.
"It's mostly pressure. Expectations. Training schedules that don't leave room for anything else. Living up to a legacy that isn't even my choice."
His voice dropped.
"Sometimes it feels less like a goal and more like… a debt I didn't sign up for."
Jasper didn't know what to say to that.
So he didn't say anything.
Just nodded once. Slow.
Sieg spoke next—quiet, deliberate.
"My turn."
They both looked at him.
Sieg sat perfectly straight, hands resting on his thighs like he was reporting to someone unseen. "My goal is… unclear."
Jasper frowned. "Unclear how?"
Sieg stared down at his own open palms.
"I was engineered for a purpose. Optimized. There were no childhood dreams. No phase where I wanted to be an astronaut or a rockstar."
He said it like he was reciting weather data. As if he wasn't born, but planned and made.
"My father's directive has been the same always. He wishes for me to pursue a 'normal' life."
Jasper echoed, softer: "Normal."
Sieg nodded once.
"Friends. School. Experiences that are not fighting. Emotional connections. Interpersonal relationships."
"Whoa, big guy! Busting out the big words today, huh?" Arti teased him softly.
He lifted his gaze—red eyes steady, almost clinical. "I am attempting to understand what that all entails."
The silence that followed felt different.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… raw.
Jasper leaned back slowly.
"You're doing it right now, you know."
Sieg tilted his head. "Elaborate."
Jasper gestured loosely between the three of them. "This. Sitting here. Talking shit. Being tired and confused together. That's normal. That's the messy part nobody puts in the training manuals."
Arti's mouth curved—small, genuine.
"Welcome to the experience, tin man."
Sieg considered that.
Then—very quietly—
"…Hmm.."
But there was still distance behind his eyes. Like he was translating feelings, instead of having them.
Jasper noticed.
Didn't push.
Instead, he exhaled hard through his nose.
"Okay. My turn again."
Arti groaned dramatically. "That's not how turns—"
"Shut up."
Jasper leaned forward, elbows on knees, staring at nothing.
"There's something I haven't told anyone."
That shifted the air.
Sieg leaned in a fraction.
Arti's teasing grin disappeared.
Jasper swallowed.
"…I keep seeing something in my dreams."
Arti's voice dropped. "What kind of something?"
"A gate."
The word felt too big for the quiet park.
Jasper kept going, voice low.
"Not like the ones we train in. This thing is… massive. Stone. Ancient. Covered in rust or corrosion or whatever. I can never see the top. Never see the edges. It just… keeps going."
He paused.
"There's gold under it. Like veins of it. Buried. Waiting."
Another breath.
"Every time I see it, it feels like it's… watching. Like it's waiting for *me* to do something."
Long silence.
Arti finally spoke, hushed.
"That's… not normal dream shit, Jasper."
Jasper gave a weak laugh. "Yeah. No kidding."
Sieg's voice was softer than usual.
"Your Summon is linked to it."
Not a question.
Jasper nodded slowly.
"I think so. Yeah."
Arti rubbed a hand over his face.
"Okay. Mysterious as all hell. Noted."
The sun had slipped lower now. Gold turned amber. Shadows pooled deeper under the trees.
Arti spoke again—lighter this time, but not fake. "You know we're probably gonna run into those three assholes again, right?"
Jasper groaned. "Don't."
Sieg nodded once. "High probability."
Arti smirked. "Especially if we're all gunning for the same place."
Jasper raised an eyebrow. "Chiron Academy?"
Arti's eyes flashed.
"Where else?"
Sieg murmured, "Optimal trajectory."
Jasper leaned back, staring up at the shifting leaves. "Yeah," he said quietly. "Figures."
A long exhale.
"Well… guess we better not suck, then."
Arti laughed—real this time, bright and rough. "Yeah. Let's try that."
Sieg added, almost gently: "Improvement is achievable."
Jasper looked between them—Arti's crooked grin, Sieg's steady crimson stare.
And for once the smile that pulled at his mouth didn't feel forced.
"…Yeah. Let's get stronger."
The breeze rose again.
Leaves hissed overhead.
Three boys sat under the wide oak as the light turned soft and copper.
Not just classmates anymore.
Not just survivors of the same bad hour.
Something steadier now.
Something that might actually last.
Far away—inside the endless golden dusk of Jasper's spirit realm—the colossal gate stood motionless.
Ancient. Patient.
Another flake of rust cracked free.
Drifted down into darkness.
And beneath the stone…
gold burned brighter.
Like a heartbeat finally waking up.
—————
「Within another realm entirely」
The voice laughed in utterly amused arrogance. Cackling almost.
«You almost died, choking infront of a mere Hobgoblin? Yet you think I'll let you take things easy? No— No— No.»
The voice sighed deeply, orchestrating a plan that would cause suffering, but it was necessary to cultivate the boy into something useful.
«My poor unguided and oblivious Zanabēlu. The only way to temper a blade for harder trials... Is to thrust it into the flames.»