The academy's first live dungeon training was finally here.

  An F-rank dungeon, modest and relatively safe. The enemies? Goblins. Low-level, predictable, weak in one-on-one combat.

  But in large numbers? They could overwhelm even the cocky.

  This was more than a lesson—it was a revelation.

  Inside the staging zone, Kyle adjusted his iron armor. It didn’t fit quite right—slightly too loose, slightly too heavy. While others polished enchanted gear, he fastened dull straps and wrapped his callused hands in basic cloth.

  Beside him, his assigned team—Lee Minho, Choi Reina, and Park Taejin—whispered, barely bothering to hide their annoyance.

  “Why is he even in our team?” Reina muttered.

  “He’s still classless,” Taejin snorted. “Total dead weight.”

  Minho rolled his eyes, loud enough for Kyle to hear. “The academy should separate the elites from the orphans. This is a waste.”

  Kyle didn’t flinch.

  He was used to the whispers.

  Team 7, Enter.

  The gate shimmered. The four students stepped through.

  It was damp and suffocating. The stench of mold, blood, and sweat hung thick in the air. Cracked bones littered the ground. Flickers of green eyes blinked from the shadows.

  A goblin screeched.

  “Let’s make this quick,” Minho said confidently, drawing his sword.

  They dashed in.

  With magic-infused weapons and early-awakened classes, the nobles made short work of the first wave.

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  Flash. Burn. Slash.

  But while their movements were flashy, they lacked rhythm. They hadn’t trained their stamina—or their minds.

  They had never struggled.

  Kyle kept his distance at first, pacing himself. He didn’t rush. He wasn’t fast.

  But every movement was clean.

  Precise.

  Deadly.

  A goblin lunged at him—he sidestepped and slit its throat with a clean upward slash.

  He didn’t waste energy. He didn’t waste breath.

  He remembered every movement from his brutal solo training—hours upon hours, soaked in sweat and blood while others slept.

  Fifteen minutes in.

  The nobles started panting. Their mana was running low. Their movements slowed.

  “Dammit... why are there so many of them?” Reina gasped.

  Taejin stumbled, blocking a goblin barely in time.

  Even Minho grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. “What’s with this spawn rate?!”

  The goblins weren’t slowing.

  They were increasing.

  The low F-rank dungeon was turning chaotic.

  Meanwhile, Kyle was accelerating.

  His eyes narrowed. His breath controlled. His footing perfect.

  Goblin after goblin, he struck them down—each swing measured, efficient.

  He didn’t panic.

  He hunted.

  He moved like a predator—subtle, silent, deadly. There was no class skill. No flashy magic.

  Just raw instinct.

  And slowly, without realizing it...

  He began to emit killing intent.

  A force so dense that even the goblins began hesitating. Hissing. Shuffling back.

  High above, hidden in the dungeon's admin observatory, several instructors observed.

  “Is that…?”

  “Incredible…” Instructor Baek Jinhwan leaned forward. “That boy—Kyle. He's never had formal battle experience. But that killing intent…”

  The assistant instructor paled. “It’s like watching a seasoned hunter.”

  By the end of the session, Kyle had slain nearly twice as many goblins as the rest of his team combined. His uniform was soaked. His eyes were cold. Yet he stood, breathing steady, blade steady.

  The others?

  Collapsed, drained, and silent.

  They didn’t thank him.

  They didn’t even look his way.

  “Next time, stay out of our path,” Minho spat, hiding his shame with arrogance as they left.

  Kyle said nothing.

  After the dungeon, Instructor Baek approached.

  “You didn’t have to keep fighting once the quota was met,” he said.

  Kyle looked up. “If I stopped, they’d die.”

  Baek stared at him for a long moment, then nodded with something almost like approval.

  “You may not have a class… but you have what most of them don’t.”

  Far beyond the dungeon—in a space between realms, where time bent and space wavered—a presence stirred.

  A slumbering being opened one eye for the first time in centuries.

  Through layers of dimensions, it had felt something.

  A ripple.

  A presence.

  A spark that did not belong to the current age.

  “…Interesting,” the being murmured, voice deeper than space itself.