Sirana was running with all her might towards the headmaster’s room. It had been 4 months since Chyrsella left. While she was going on adventures, getting ahead of her, Sirana was stuck in class. She stared intently at the floating clock. As soon as the bell rung, she darted out the classroom.

Her father was coming today. And she needed answers.

She knew whenever her father visited the academy, the first place he would go to would be the Headmaster’s Office. She traced her hand across the ascending spiral handrail to gain some leverage against her own speed. Falling would only slow her down and possibly lose her chance to get answers. Her breaths were trained, deep and efficient.

‘Why? Why!?’ She questioned herself, wracking her brain for an answer. She knew it, but she denied it with all her being. Her canines showed wildly, stopping herself from shrieking in fury. ‘Don’t think I’ll let you get away with this, father!’ She stomped, cracking the enforced stone beneath her.

Her body catapulted through the small window near the steps. The wind flew through her red hair as her blues eyes sparkled. The shards of glass reflected a myriad of colors as the sun hit them. The students in the courtyard, looking towards the shattering sound, only to see a beautiful girl seemingly gliding towards across the before breaking through another window on the opposite building, where the headmaster resides.

Headmaster Gavin was a member of the board and an old party member of Gillius’s. She knew he had something to do with it. Sirana was well versed in her studies and combat. In fact, she was one of the top five students in the academy and up to thirty students could be chosen. Sirana not being rejected to partcipate was illogical as Chyesella was able to go without any impediments.

The students involved were placed under only the most famous, revered, and experienced adventurers, some more receiving than the others to their obligation to the empire.

All the students that signed up only wanted one of two people; Archmage Hannibal or Blademaster Azazil, which explained why the other veteran adventurers were disgruntled by the system. They had to put up with a kid that didn’t even want to be there, and were constantly overshadowed by those two S Rank adventurers.

To qualify to be an S Rank adventurer, one needed to sign up as an eligible teacher. This lead many lone adventurers to stay within A Rank, despite their strength. As a result, the line between S Rank and A Rank adventurers was very thin. Azazil himself was one of these adventurers, but his rank was forcibly raised by the Gregor Empire.

Sirana had always been a fan of Azazil. Saying she idolized him wouldn’t be an understatement. He was the first human to explore all 100 levels of a dungeon and return alive. At the time, the record was set at 75 by Archmage Hannibal in the Tetril Dungeon.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

At the time, magic was at forefront of defining strength. It wouldn’t be far from the truth to say that Azazil’s feat ushered an age of newfound respect for swordsmanship that died with the prospect of magic and its deciding factor in the ancient wars.

Discovering a book outlining the secret to infusing mana into weapons at the bottom of the dungeon, he shared the information rather than keeping it to himself. It involved forging a mana conductive crystal called mith with blood from a magical beast. The stronger the beast, the stronger the outcome. The book displayed various locations across the world where these crystals could be found in abundance. Some locations turned out to be dungeons while others turned into mining towns as a result. Their overabundance made them cheap, but his discovery created a new occupation, Beast Hunters.

It was Sirana’s dream. To party with others, not for treasure, but the thrill of the hunt. They were a special breed of people, often selling blood just to finance their next kill. And Sirana was one of them. No one had killed a divine beast yet and she wanted to be the first.

The apprenticeship program allowed students to gain real experience on the battlefield and advance their careers early. Even a bastard child could gain the respect of his family by doing so, as long as they were successful, and many of them were. Most noble children, though talented, were sheltered and could not bear the risk of death. Nobles were almost always excluded in the apprenticeship program. Sirana would often call them cowards and sneer at their weakness. When the participants were announced and she wasn’t chosen, all those around her could only think one thing. ‘Hypocrite.’ Though she didn’t want to believe it, her own father had shamed her, and she didn’t believe it. She wanted to hear the truth from his own mouth.

She couldn’t forgive him. She wouldn’t forgive him for taking this opportunity away from her.

Her steel boots skid across the exit to the left wing. The students were shocked as her fiery hair left a trail in her precise movements, up to that point.

The hall was packed, but she walked through everyone step by step, pushing them out of her way by force. She knocked a few students on their ass, but she didn’t care. She had one goal and it was before her. The golden plaque nailed humbly to the door by an old string read one phrase. “The Headmaster’s Office.”