"Now then, be careful around these vines. They can and will suck the blood out of you if you touch them." The old man guiding them said, gesturing to several trees before them, whose branches hosted thin, barely visible green vines.

The surrounding forest was dark, illuminated only by their torches. A transparent barrier surrounded them, protecting Team 0 from the toxic environment that would have required either a much greater physique or specialized gear that had not been possible to acquire.

Wearing his straw hat, lumberjack shirt and jeans, the old man seemed like the personification of the term "salt of the earth". However, James had learned that his initial feeling had been correct.

As soon as they had set foot in the forest dungeon half an hour from the facility, a gigantic, crazed white silverback attacked them. The power of its blows had been enough to paste a tank, but the barrier the old man had erected with an errant wave of his hand just before they entered had held up without showing any strain.

After several heart-pounding seconds in which they all watched, terrified, as the B-rank monster unleashed its entire might before them, their guide got annoyed and snapped his fingers.

The gorilla, larger than a car, had exploded into fine mist. Nothing had been left, not even the mana stone.

The old man, who had presented himself as Julian Lestrade and told them to call him Mr. Julian, had apologized for the mess, saying that he thought they might enjoy seeing what a B-rank creature was like but that in his old age, he couldn't stand when there were too loud noises.

The following minutes were spent entirely in silence as Team 0 tried to digest what they had just seen. James had known, from the moment Leonid Stein had told them that they would go on an expedition to gather high-quality EXP for their Last Five, that he would have to face monsters beyond what he had ever fought, but he hadn't expected one of those monsters to be his guide.

Still, it was weirdly reassuring for the old man to be the one taking care of them. James still couldn't place him, despite something at the back of his mind screaming that he should know him very well, but that very same voice told him that he could be sure nothing would happen to them as long as the man was around.

Evidently wanting to break the awkward silence, the old man resumed talking as if nothing had happened. "The belief that the Last Five were so important is both less and more real than people know. Less, because there is nothing inherently special about these five levels compared to the rest. But more because of simple mathematics. You are much more powerful at level ninety-five than you were at level fifty. You are thus able to survive things that would have immediately killed you then. That is what allows you to gather more valuable EXP."

That brought James back to earth. It made a lot of sense once he thought about it. "But then, why is there such a widespread belief?" He asked despite himself.

Mr. Julian grinned at that. "The answer to that is quite simple. People are still people, no matter how much more power they have. To explain things they don't understand, humans have always made up interesting stories. Like many others, this just happens to have a touch of truth sprinkled on top, making it easier to maintain. The System, so far, has not spoken directly about any of these hidden mechanics. Which means we just don't know."

"And people really don't like not knowing." James finished for him, murmuring.

Mr. Julian chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Exactly. The unknown is often more terrifying than the most frightening monster. But it also makes for grand stories. And stories are what brought humanity out of our darkest times. In the early days of the Apocalypse, things looked to be lost. Humanity would have been wiped out if it hadn't found stories to tell. It was a time when heroes were forged in fire, and the world as we knew it was hanging by a thread."

As they walked, the old man regaled them with tales from the time when Awakeners first emerged. His voice was rich and animated, painting vivid pictures of battles against monstrous creatures, ruined cities, and the brave souls who rose to meet the challenge.

"Governments were collapsing, and the old order was failing." He narrated, eyes lost in the fog of time, even as he casually batted to the side any attempt the dungeon threw. "But amidst all the despair, there were those who stood tall. Ordinary people who found extraordinary strength within themselves to fight back. It was a dark time, but it was also a time of great courage and sacrifice."

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Team 0 listened, captivated by his voice. Mr. Julian did not name any of the figures he was talking about, but the vividness he painted them with made any doubt they might have had about the veracity of his words disappear.

The reverie was broken when they entered a clearing. One massive tree, as tall as some of New York's smaller skyscrapers, occupied it. At its roots, James could feel a powerful presence. It was flighty, one moment incredibly powerful and the next as inert as a rock, which put him on edge.

He made to comment, but the old man lifted a hand, signaling for him to keep quiet.

"As you know, you are here to earn some good quality experience. As a rule, I don't particularly like the practice of power leveling. It means giving strength to those who did not work for it. But I have been assured by people I trust that you are all more than ready for such a burden, which is why I have accepted accompanying you in the first place."

Seeing that they all were looking at him, waiting for him to continue, he smiled. "I'm glad to say that you have given me an excellent first impression. Thus, I have decided to help you in your quest for power. That means preparing the floor for you. From now on, I will find the best prey for each of you and allow you to kill it while I prevent any harm from coming to you." He said, tone grave.

James immediately picked up on what was not being said. "Does that mean you want us to be the only one to deal any damage?"

Again, Mr. Julian smiled in satisfaction. "That's exactly right. I believe the System will consider your efforts much more highly if you truly killed the creature I give you."

The younger Awakeners shared a long look. They were used to the other shoe dropping, which is why no one would put up a fuss, but what the old man had just said changed things. They would have to spend a long, long time hacking at whatever creature he chose for them.

In the end, there was nothing they could do. Standing in the middle of a B-rank dungeon whose very air was enough to kill them on the spot, they were all at his mercy. Denying him was just not an option.

Seeing that he had their acceptance, if not their agreement, the old man continued. "Now, this here is a Dryad of some sort. A slippery creature whose power is based upon their territory and the safety of their mother tree. The perfect opponent for someone whose modus operandi is increasing or decreasing others’ power."

As he said that, everyone turned to face Ezekiel, who had paled dramatically.

For all the hard work he had put into becoming more active in any engagement, the team's youngest was still not entirely comfortable fighting alone.

Still, it wasn't like he had any other option, and so, with a pat on the back from James, he sighed and stepped forward.

"Now, don't look like you are going to your execution, boy." The old man chuckled, rubbing his unkempt beard. "This will be over before you know it. You just have to put in some elbow grease."

With that, he turned to the tree and waved a hand, the air rippling before him like water.

A short scream came from the tree's direction, a disturbingly human sound. Soon after, a creature that looked like the caricature of a beautiful woman, whose skin was bark and whose features were too sharp, carved into the wood as if to mock humanity, came flying through the air, held in an invisible grip.

The Dryad's eyes, reflecting the deep greens of the forest, were filled with fury and pain. She writhed within the magical restraints, her leaves rustling like whispers of ancient curses.

Unfortunately for her, there was nothing she could do against the might of her captor. Her power boiled beneath her wooden skin, unable to be released, increasing her frustration as she glared at the group of puny humans.

Ezekiel gulped again but gathered himself and stepped forward, taking his daggers out of their sheaths. Before he could swing, however, a chuckle interrupted him.

"Boy, I know I told you to go ahead, but if you attack her with those, we'll be here until you are as old as I." The ancient mage lifted his hands, grasping at the air. Seemingly out of nowhere, a new dagger appeared. It looked perfectly ordinary, save its shiny luster, but the way the light bounced off its edge, as if afraid of being cut, raised James' hackles.

"Take this and get on with it."

And with that, Ezekiel attacked. His body glowed as he cast several buffs upon himself before stacking weakening spells on his opponent. More and more were added until he stopped, panting.

From what James could tell, his friend had done as much as he could without exhausting himself completely, which felt very wise, given that however many debuffs he used, he would still need to swing for a long time.

The first stab was almost hesitant, as if Ezekiel was testing the Dryad's range of motion. His new knife left a thin line behind, a testament to its sharpness.

Once he was sure the monster wouldn’t kill him and that he could truly hurt it, the boy started wailing on the Dryad.

Unsurprisingly, each cut he managed to inflict was met with an almost immediate regeneration of her woody flesh. The magic of her tree, looming from the middle of the clearing, was unable to do more than that, but it would use its full might to lend her an unnerving resilience.

The battle was less a fight and more a macabre dance. His spells, usually more than adequate at controlling his enemies, could barely slow the Dryad’s regeneration.

As time wore on, the strain on Ezekiel became palpable. His movements grew sluggish, his breath ragged. The relentless need to keep attacking, to follow the old mage's cold directive, weighed heavily on his soul. Still, he persisted in his grim task. Cut after cut, chip of wood after chip of wood, he slowly penetrated the tough bark.

Meanwhile, the old mage watched with clinical detachment. His eyes, cold and calculating, missed nothing yet revealed nothing of his thoughts. He seemed to view the scene as a necessary, if uninteresting, process - a task to be completed with no regard for the emotional toll it took on his young ward.

For a moment, James felt the need to interfere. He could see his friend going through a great suffering of his own, and he wanted to help. But one look from the old man was enough to stop him in his tracks.

Each of them would have to go through this, and their guardian wouldn't allow any interference.