The day came faster than anyone expected.
The usual morning bell rang, echoing through the academy halls, but today—it felt different.
There was no usual chatter. No light-hearted banter.
Instead, a heavy silence blanketed the students.
Nervousness.
Fear.
Even the air felt thick, suffocating.
Hope, however, remained composed.
Or at least, he pretended to be.
Unlike the others who wore their emotions openly—trembling hands, darting eyes, hushed whispers—he kept his face blank.
Calm.
Unbothered.
After all, the supervisors wouldn't let them die.
They had to return in one piece.
They wouldn't throw them into a battlefield unprepared.
Right?
Hope pushed the thought away.
Instead, he focused on preparation. His gear. His weapons. His mindset.
That was all that mattered.
The students were gathered in a massive hall, its towering walls lined with metallic structures and flickering holographic screens.
The room buzzed with energy, not from excitement, but from barely contained anxiety.
The weight of what lay ahead settled over them like a suffocating fog.
They were all fully geared up—combat suits reinforced with protective plating, high-grade weapons strapped to their backs, and artifacts granted by the academy.
For some, the artifacts shone with power, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. For others, they were dull and lifeless, yet to awaken.
Hope adjusted his twin sickle-daggers, the curved blades feeling natural in his grip.
A weapon made for speed and precision—perfect for someone like him.
At the front of the hall, the Head Supervisor stepped forward.
A man of imposing presence, dressed in a high-collared combat uniform marked with the emblem of the academy. His sharp gaze swept over the students, assessing their mental state.
Then, he spoke.
"Fear is natural, but it is also a weakness."
His voice boomed through the hall, powerful and unwavering.
"Today, you will be stepping onto the battlefield—not as children, but as warriors."
A heavy silence followed.
Some students stood straighter, others swallowed hard.
"Confidence. Determination. Defiance."
His sharp gaze pierced through them.
"These are the qualities that separate the living from the dead."
The students shuddered.
Hope remained unmoved.
Words were just words.
They meant nothing unless backed by action.
The supervisor's voice lowered, but it carried even more weight.
"You will be facing Veil creatures today. Some of you will hesitate. Some of you will falter. But remember this—hesitation is death. Fear is death."
The words sank in deep, settling in the pits of their stomachs.
Then, after a long pause, the supervisor finally said:
"Go well—and come back well."
Boarding the PTVs
The command snapped them into motion.
The students marched forward, stepping into the hulking armored PTVs.
Massive, reinforced machines built to withstand attacks from Veil creatures. Their exteriors glistened with enchantments, humming faintly with protective energy.
Hope stepped inside a familiar vehicle, scanning the rows of seats and faces.
Tension hung thick in the air.
Some students clenched their weapons, others muttered quiet prayers.
And then—
He saw her.
A girl so breathtakingly beautiful, it almost jarred him.
She sat beside an empty seat, her posture poised yet relaxed.
Her features were striking—snow-white hair cascading down her shoulders, pale white eyelids, and the most vivid blue eyes he had ever seen.
Or at least, he assumed they were blue.
There was something ethereal about her, as if she belonged somewhere else—somewhere untouched by the filth of reality.
Hope hesitated.
He had no intention of drawing unwanted attention, but the seats were quickly filling up.
And so—he wordlessly slid into the seat beside her.
Not daring to speak.
Not even sparing a glance.
After all—
"Which beauty would waste her time talking to someone like me?"
Hope kept his head down, his fingers absently tracing the handles of his daggers.
Then—
The PTV's engine roared to life, and the convoy moved forward.
The mission had begun.