SSS-Rank Card Summoner:

A week. It had been a damn week already.

Haise's grip tightened on the wooden sword, his arms moving out of habit, cutting through the air again and again. It didn't even feel like training anymore. Just chasing flies. His muscles ached, sure, but no part of him felt closer to anything worth calling progress.

Five years. He had five years to get ready for… whatever the hell this mission really was. And yet here he was, stuck swinging sticks in the dirt like he was waiting for life to start.

"This is pointless," he muttered, dragging the blade across the ground. "I'm not getting stronger doing this. I'm just killing time."

His eyes drifted toward Adrian, off to the side with his bow, steady and calm. At least Adrian looked like he knew what he was doing. Karsen, too. That kid actually seemed to be improving, his swings sharper, his footwork less sloppy.

And me? What the hell am I doing wrong?

Haise let the sword spin in his hand, watching it lazily, the motion doing nothing to stop the irritation gnawing at the back of his skull.

The rest of the people in the yard? They might as well not have been there. Half of them looked lost, punching the air like they were playing soldier without a clue what for. Haise realized he didn't even know most of their names. He hadn't bothered to ask.

What even is this place? All he did was shuffle between the barracks and this patch of dirt, swinging sticks until his shoulders burned. The rest of the camp? He hadn't seen it. Never crossed more than a few steps outside his usual path. He didn't know what was beyond the fences. Didn't know what they were even training for.

And that woman, Roxiana. What was she, exactly? She popped in now and then, training sometimes, eating sometimes, like she was part of this, but never really explaining who she was.

His thoughts drifted like that, circling in frustrated loops, until Arno's voice cut through the yard.

"Attention!"

Haise straightened instinctively, his fingers tightening around the sword hilt. The others snapped to as well, eyes turning toward Arno, who strolled into the training ground with a folded slip of paper in hand.

"Groups have been formed."

Groups? For what?

Arno's eyes scanned the yard. "Group A, Adrian and Roxiana. Group B, Karsen and Dorian."

Who? Do we even have a dorian? Right…. That's me. Fake name. Haise cursed under his breath. Stupid.

Karsen, standing across the yard, nearly tripped over his own feet rushing toward him, his orange hair bouncing as he half-skidded to a stop.

"Prepare yourself, Dorian! Our first mission is here!" Karsen practically crushed Haise's shoulder in a half-hug, grinning like he'd just won something.

"So that's what this is about," Haise mumbled, trying to shake him off. "What's the mission?"

Karsen's grin widened. "No clue!"

Arno stepped up to them, his usual lazy tone replaced by something sharper. "Karsen, you're in charge of supervising. The mission's simple. Retrieve supplies from a fallen caravan. Should be routine."

He handed Karsen a small, weathered map, the edges already soft from wear.

Arno turned to Haise, his expression settling into something colder. "Watch him. If you see anything move, you storm out. You leave. No heroics. Got it?"

That serious edge wasn't something Haise was used to hearing from him.

"Got it."

Arno didn't linger, walking off without another word.

Karsen spun the map between his fingers, already vibrating with energy. "Let's gear up! We're moving now!"

Haise followed him toward the barracks, wondering if he'd somehow been dragged into something way above his head. "You're in a real rush."

"Of course! Do you know how bored I've been? Four weeks of the same training every day. If you hadn't shown up, I'd probably still be chasing imaginary monsters in the yard."

Inside the barracks, Karsen led him toward the back room a small changing area cluttered with shelves and half-tied bundles of leather gear.

"Suit up! Scout uniforms," Karsen said proudly, pulling one from a rack. Haise recognized it immediately. The same style Adrian had worn when he first aimed that arrow at his face.

Haise picked through the straps, trying to make sense of where his arms were supposed to go. "When exactly are we leaving?"

"The sooner the better." Karsen's voice was already muffled, halfway through pulling on his own jacket.

Haise raised a brow. "You're just really desperate to get out, huh?"

Karsen peeked over his shoulder, flashing a grin. "Desperate's a bit much. I'm just… enthusiastically done with sitting around."

The new gear fit better than he expected. Worn, but comfortable. Haise tugged the tunic off and folded it over his arm, reaching for the jacket when Karsen suddenly froze mid-motion.

"Whoa, cool mark!" Karsen pointed at Haise's back, eyes sparkling.

Haise's skin prickled. He turned slightly, still not used to having people comment on it.

Karsen slipped off his gloves. He raised his hand, showing a faint black design burned into the skin.

"Mine's not as pretty, but it does the job."

The mark on Karsen's palm looked rough, jagged lines breaking away from a circular core that pulsed faintly when he pressed his thumb against it. Something about the design felt unstable, like the lines could snap apart if pressed too hard.

Haise's gaze locked onto it, and the system window blinked into place without him calling it.

Potential: S

Strength: D

Ability Power: C

Speed: B

Combat Intelligence: C

Intelligence: C

Endurance: E

Mark: Death Touch

There it was again. Just like with Arno. His chest tightened. The same system window, floating silently above Karsen's head, waiting to be read.

S Potential.

That seemed… big. Maybe. Haise wasn't even sure what the average was supposed to look like. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach out and see if the window would react to his touch.

"Dorian?" Karsen's voice snapped him back. "You good? You zoned out pretty hard."

"Yeah. Just… too much training. Probably need a better rhythm."

"Arno says more training solves everything."

"Of course he does."

Karsen's grin widened as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and darted out of the room. He returned a moment later, lugging a bundled leather wrap that clanked faintly when he dropped it onto the table.

"Ready?"

Karsen tugged the strings loose, revealing two iron swords, their edges rough, the hilts wrapped in worn fabric. Real swords. Not the wooden ones he'd been swinging for days.

"So this is actually happening," Haise muttered, tracing a finger along the dull side of the blade.

"Yeah. Missions aren't always life or death, but they're real. We don't practice with sticks out there." Karsen's tone softened, just a little. "Kinda surprised they stuck you with me, though. You're brand new. Maybe you're some secret genius, huh?"

Haise forced a small smirk. "I'd like to think so."

"Probably Arno just wants to see if you'll screw up."

"Sounds about right."

Karsen slid one of the swords across the table. "Pick."

Both blades looked the same, though Haise wasn't sure it mattered. He grabbed the one on the left, testing the weight.

It felt heavier than it should. Like it meant something now.

They stepped out of the barracks together, the morning air pressing against their skin, sharp and bright.

For the first time, Haise really saw the rest of the camp. Small fires, drying racks strung between tents, people patching clothes, others dragging crates toward a storage tent. Life. Work. A strange rhythm of its own.

They neared the outer gate, the wooden frame worn and creaking as it opened.

"This is it? No detailed briefing, no prep time? Just 'go handle it' and we're off?" Haise asked, his boots crunching against the loose stones beneath him.

Karsen shrugged, flicking the map open. "It's just supply retrieval. Nothing big. Anything more would be a waste of time."

"Right."

They passed through the gate, stepping into the narrow dirt path that stretched beyond the camp walls.

"How many times you done this?" Haise asked, his thumb brushing the edge of his sword's grip.

"Third mission." Karsen beamed. "But first time I'm in charge."

"You've got the map, huh?"

"Yep. I'm basically the chief now." Karsen spun the map once, not exactly carefully.

"Yeah. Chief. Sure." Haise shook his head.

They kept walking, the road pulling them forward into whatever was waiting out there.