The room was swallowed in darkness, vast and undefined, as though it existed outside the bounds of any ordinary space, with no walls clearly visible and no sense of depth to anchor the eye. Only a single, dim source of light existed, suspended above a circular table at the center, its pale glow falling downward in a controlled radius that illuminated exactly seven figures seated around it, leaving everything beyond them in absolute shadow.

Each of them wore a mask.

Different.

Distinct.

Unsettling.

The designs ranged from grotesque to abstract, from symbolic to entirely unreadable, yet none of them revealed even the slightest hint of the faces beneath, their identities erased completely under the stillness of their presence.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then—

A low, warped sadistic chuckle broke the silence.

"Hu... hu... hu... you didn’t get what you want... hu... hu... hu... hu... hu..."

The voice came from the figure wearing a Wendigo mask, its elongated antlers stretching upward into the dim light, the hollow eye sockets seeming to twist unnaturally as the sound echoed, dripping with a quiet, sadistic amusement. Its gaze shifted deliberately across the table, settling on the one seated opposite it.

The figure with the featureless mask.

Smooth. Blank. Almost reflective under the faint glow.

When it spoke, the voice that emerged carried no emotion, no inflection—only a flat, mechanical precision.

"Small amount of data lost," it stated evenly, each word measured and exact, "initiating recalculation. Identifying next viable target. Process will require extended time."

A brief pause followed, as if something within it adjusted mid-thought.

"Plan change proposed," it continued, the same unbroken tone persisting, "analyzing failure variables. Interference of Sphinx detected."

The air shifted.

Subtle but noticeable.

One by one, the gazes around the table turned.

All toward a single figure.

The one wearing the Sphinx mask.

It sat with an air of quiet superiority, posture relaxed yet commanding, as though the weight of their attention meant little to it, as though it had expected this from the beginning. When it finally spoke, its voice carried a refined arrogance, smooth and controlled, yet edged with unmistakable disdain.

"Hmph... who knew your mechanical toy was so weak," it said, its tone dismissive, almost bored, "it couldn’t even complete something so simple."

A faint tension rippled across the table.

Unspoken.

But present.

And then—

Tap!

A soft sound cut through it.

The figure seated at the head of the table moved its fingers lightly against the surface, the motion minimal, yet carrying a weight that immediately silenced the room without the need for raised voices or force.

The Rakshasa mask.

Its presence alone felt heavier than the others, its stillness not passive, but authoritative, as though the very space around it bent subtly under its control.

Its gaze shifted slowly toward the Sphinx.

"Do not interfere with your personal agendas," it said, its voice calm yet absolute, carrying a quiet authority that left no room for misinterpretation, "with our mission."

The Sphinx tilted its head slightly, irritation flickering beneath its composed exterior.

"It was just—"

"Enough."

The word fell sharply.

Not loud but final.

***

Damon stepped onto the stage without haste, his movements unforced yet deliberate, carrying a quiet confidence that did not need to announce itself to be felt. The moment he reached the center, the subtle noise that lingered in the classroom seemed to recede on its own, as though the space had instinctively adjusted to his presence.

He did not raise his voice, nor did he attempt to command attention through theatrics; instead, he simply stood there, one hand resting lightly at his side, the other brushing against the edge of the display console as his gaze moved across the room with calm, measured precision.

When he finally spoke, his tone was even, composed, yet edged with something that held the room in place.

"This breach," Damon began, "is designated as Obsidian Vein Hollow."

The display behind him shifted, the image resolving into a dark, cavernous landscape where jagged obsidian-like formations rose from the ground, their surfaces reflecting faint, unnatural light, while thin streams of glowing energy pulsed beneath the cracked terrain like veins running through a living structure. At the center of it all, a distorted core flickered faintly, as though breathing.

A quiet pause followed, allowing the image to settle into the minds of those watching.

"A level 2 breach characterized by narrow pathways, unstable terrain, and high-density obsidian beasts activity," he said, his tone steady as he moved into explanation, "the environment restricts movement and visibility while forcing engagements at close range, increasing the probability of being surrounded if positioning is poorly managed."

He shifted slightly, his gaze narrowing just enough to sharpen the focus of his words.

"In its original clearance, the approach relied on defensive consolidation—holding a fixed position while gradually reducing enemy numbers before advancing toward the core. It worked, but it was inefficient, resulting in extended exposure, resource depletion, and unnecessary risk accumulation."

A faint pause.

"Instead," he continued, "this method prioritizes controlled aggression and directional flow."

The display adjusted again, illustrating a path cutting through the terrain, marked with calculated movement points and engagement zones.

"Our party composition is structured around this approach."

His gaze flicked briefly toward the back, acknowledging them without turning.

"I will take the role of the primary attacker," he said calmly, "engaging enemies head-on, breaking formations, and maintaining forward pressure to prevent encirclement."

The path highlighted accordingly.

"Mira will function as the healer," he continued, his tone lowering slightly, carrying a subtle emphasis, "her role is critical but also vulnerable, which makes her protection the highest priority within the formation."

Another shift.

"Zarhka will remain positioned near her, acting as a defensive interceptor," Damon explained, "any entity that bypasses the frontline will be dealt with immediately, ensuring that the core support remains uninterrupted."

His hand moved slightly as the next layer appeared.

"Vaelith will operate independently," he said, "his agility and resonance allow him to move across unstable terrain without restriction, making him ideal for flanking and eliminating targets that disrupt formation or attempt to reposition."

A brief pause.

Then—

"And Eric..." Damon added, almost casually, "will serve as bait."

A few students blinked.

Damon didn’t react.

"His natural tendency to attract attention, combined with his luck, allows him to draw enemy focus at key moments without immediate collapse," he continued evenly, as though stating a simple fact, "this creates openings that can be exploited to redirect pressure and control the flow of engagement."

The display shifted once more, showing the full sequence.

"Execution begins with forward penetration," Damon said, his voice steady, his explanation unfolding with precise clarity, "rather than holding position, the group advances continuously, maintaining momentum while eliminating threats along a single directional axis. This prevents encirclement and reduces the number of active engagement points."

The movement lines narrowed.

"Any deviation is immediately corrected. There is no retreat, only controlled repositioning," he added, "targets are eliminated in priority order—those capable of coordination or disruption first—while maintaining structural integrity of the formation at all times."

The final point illuminated.

"Once the core is located, all resources are focused on a decisive strike," Damon concluded, "prolonging the encounter increases instability, so the objective is to end it quickly and efficiently rather than safely and slowly."

As he spoke, something shifted in the room.

The usual murmurs never came.

No whispers.

No interruptions.

One by one, the students found themselves watching him, not just listening, but following—absorbed in the structure, the clarity, the way each piece connected seamlessly into the next. Even those who had spoken earlier now sat still, their attention drawn forward without realizing when it had happened.

At the back of the stage, Mira stood with her hands clasped lightly, her eyes shining as she watched him, a quiet admiration reflected in her expression, while Zarhka, standing beside her, carried a similar intensity, her usual sharpness softened into something more focused, more certain.

By the time he finished—

There was absolute silence.

It stretched just long enough to feel deliberate, just long enough to carry weight, as Damon stood at the center of the stage without shifting his posture, his expression calm, unbothered, as though the absence of reaction was no different from applause. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

I have given thousands of presentations in front of audiences a hundred times larger than this, he thought idly, his gaze remaining steady.

Then—

The silence broke.

Not with applause.

But with presence.

Valerian appeared.

One moment he stood at the front of the classroom, and the next, he was beside Damon, close enough that the shift in space felt almost intrusive, his grin stretched unnaturally wide, splitting across his face as his eyes gleamed with an intensity that had not been there before.

"Hhihihihi... why did you choose this breach?" he asked, his voice low yet carrying through the room with unsettling clarity.

A ripple moved through the class.

Students leaned slightly toward one another, their voices lowering into quick murmurs.

"...hmm... did he finally give a different response...?"

"...ahh... who knew that Demon could give such a presentation...?"

"...but what happened to Instructor Valerian... why did he react like that...?"

Before the speculation could build further—

A voice answered.

From the front rows.

"Obsidian Vein Hollow," serena said, her gaze fixed on the stage, her tone carrying just enough weight to cut through the noise, "it was one of the breaches Instructor Valerian cleared in his early career."

The effect was immediate.

The murmurs died.

Replaced by a silence far heavier than before.

A slow realization spread across the room, the implications settling into place one by one until someone finally gave voice to what everyone was thinking.

"T-then... i-isn’t he saying... he has a better strategy than what Instructor Valerian used...?"

All attention snapped back to the stage.

Every gaze.

Every thought focused.

Damon stood exactly where he had been, unchanged, while behind him, his party members remained in place, the tension now clearly present even among them.

At the back of the formation, Eric exhaled quietly, his face tightening just slightly as he muttered under his breath—

"I told him not to do it..."

For a brief moment, nothing happened.

Then—

Valerian laughed.

"HAHHAHAHAHA...!"

The sound burst out of him suddenly, loud and unrestrained, echoing across the room as his shoulders shook with amusement.

"Great... absolutely phenomenal... hahhaha—hehhehhe—!"

Damon did not react.

He didn’t step back.

Didn’t avert his gaze.

He simply stood there, meeting Valerian’s presence without the slightest shift in composure.

Valerian’s laughter slowed, though the grin never left his face as he tilted his head slightly, studying Damon with a sharp, almost curious intensity.

"You think it’s a better strategy..." he said, his voice lowering, the amusement still laced within it.

Damon answered without hesitation.

"Yes."

The word landed cleanly.

Without doubt or decoration.

For a fraction of a second, the room seemed to hold its breath.

Then Valerian laughed again, softer this time, but no less unsettling.

"How wonderful..." he said, his tone almost delighted, "then why don’t we test it out?"

Confusion rippled through the class, students exchanging quick looks as the meaning of his words struggled to settle.

Valerian stepped forward, turning slightly as his voice rose once more, bright and theatrical, filling the room with renewed energy.

"For your next assignment..." he announced, his grin widening as his eyes gleamed with excitement, "you will implement the strategies you proposed—"

A pause.

Just long enough.

"In the breach environment."

His laughter followed immediately.

"Hahahhehheehhahha!"

***

Damon moved through the academy corridors at an unhurried pace, his gaze drifting ahead as though searching for something,

DING!

When a soft chime broke the quiet, his manacron lighting up against his wrist. A message appeared across the display—

"Meet me in the park beside the administration building!"

A faint smile formed on his lips.

Finally.