Varick's mocking snort echoed through the chamber, but it died in his throat as Lucien's icy glare froze him in place.

He turned towards Elio and extended his hand.

They shook hands to seal the deal.

Then, Lucien turned his inquisitive gaze towards his nephew.

"And you, Varick? Care to prove you're more than just a pretty face and a family name? Help prepare these ten thousand men, and you might just surprise yourself. Go ahead and prove your worth."

A look of disgust crossed Varick's face as he considered his uncle's words. Finally, he let out a dramatic sigh that would have put a stage actor to shame.

"Fine, I'll babysit these... commoners, if that's what you want. But only on one condition..."

He fixed his defiant gaze on Lucien. "I want you to also provide me with your best armor and lance. Mother won’t give it to me… And I'm not waiting until I'm twenty-five like some decrepit old man. I want to tackle the fourth level challenge right after the third."

Von Lucien held his nephew's gaze during a tense moment of silence. Then, to Elio's surprise, he slowly nodded.

After Varick agreed to help prepare the 10,000 soldiers

"Well, well," Lucien mused, turning back to Elio with a gleam in his eye that spelled trouble. He paused meaningfully. "I will offer you another 100,000 mana points… Another 100,000 mana points if you can drill that strategy into Varick's thick skull."

Elio's eyes widened in surprise, his jaw nearly hit the floor.

He hesitated for a moment, shooting a wary glance towards Varick, who looked like he'd rather eat his own shoes than learn anything from this "filth". But 200,000 mana points... that was life-changing money.

For someone who had been poor like him... He couldn't refuse such a generous additional offer. He sighed before slowly nodding.

"I... I accept," Elio stammered, still processing the magnitude of the offer. "I'll teach Varick everything I know."

Lucien flashed a slight satisfied smile. "Excellent. Then we have a deal."

He turned towards his nephew, his expression growing more stern. "And you, nephew, you must commit to working alongside Elio without reluctance or disdain. I expect you to put aside your petty prejudices and actually learn something for once. Who knows? You might even grow as a person."

Varick looked like he'd swallowed a particularly large and disagreeable frog. "Fine," he grumbled. "Very well, uncle. I will cooperate with the fil… Elio. But this better be worth it."

Eventually he nodded grudgingly, realizing it was his best option.

Lucien nodded with satisfaction. "It will be, believe me."

"Then say no more. Join me, and let us do what is necessary. Hopefully, not only will we save lives, but also set a precedent for change."

Both Elio and Varick looked at each other...

♢♢♢♢

As Elio led a sulking Varick through the winding corridors of the wall, he could practically feel his disdainful gaze boring into the back of his neck…

The silence between them was thick enough to cut with one of those fancy swords Varick was so fond of… But Elio decided to ignore it for now.

When they reached the courtyard, Ren, Brok, and Kriz were already there, practicing their sword skills. Upon seeing Elio approaching with the arrogant Varick in tow, the sparring came to an abrupt halt, replaced by looks of utter bewilderment.

"What the hell?" Brok was the first to speak, lowering his training sword. "What's this stuck-up prick doing with you, have you joined his side, Elio?"

Varick snorted disdainfully. "Watch your tongue, worm. We would never accept the filth into the elite of the privileged families."

"Oh really?" Kriz chimed in, his grin sharp enough to cut glass. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't our 'filthy' friend here wipe the floor with your family times in the first two challenges? Set some records, if I recall correctly."

"Shut up!" Varick spat, his cheeks flushing with anger.

Ren folded his arms. "Elio," he said calmly, though his eyes never left Varick, "care to explain why you've brought this... charming individual to our little gathering?"

Elio sighed, feeling the beginning of a headache forming behind his eyes, then raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down, friends. I know this may seem strange, but there's a good reason for this."

He launched into an explanation of the deal he'd struck with Lucien, watching as his friends' expressions morphed from confusion to disbelief to grudging admiration.

"You're kidding, 200,000 mana points?" Kriz shook his head. "Damn, Elio. Buy a guy a meal, buy me a bed, you stingy filth!"

Elio chuckled, though it was tinged with a hint of bitterness. "I wish. Most of it's probably going into weapons and gear. Besides, I only get the second half once Varick passes the test." He jerked a thumb at Varick, who looked like he was seriously contemplating murder.

Brok snorted, eyeing Varick skeptically. "And you trust this idiot won't faint halfway through the challenge?"

"Hey!" Varick growled, clenching his fists.

"Enough," Elio looked at him sternly. "Look, I know this isn't ideal, but I've got a plan. Remember how I've been working on improving my mana control? Well, I think I might be able to take my father's strategy to the next level."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Ren arched an eyebrow. "Really? How?"

"Well, you'll see." Elio smiled mysteriously. "Since I have to teach the strategy to Varick, it will be more efficient if I teach all four of you at the same time."

His friends exchanged glances, then turned towards Varick, who seemed outraged at the idea of having to train alongside them.

Elio stood before his friends and Varick, a serious look on his face. "Alright, listen closely. My father's strategy to defeat the third level monster is ingeniously simple, but requires precise execution."

He began to outline the basics, noting with some satisfaction how even Varick leaned in despite himself. Some of it was common knowledge, sure, but the devil was in the details… The exact angle of the turn, the split-second timing that meant the difference between victory and a very messy death.

He then started explaining the differences in his father's strategy, the timing to reach the monster, the way of holding the sword before and during the attack, how to position oneself against the wind, all while revealing his own discoveries and enhancements.

As he delved into the specifics his father had discovered, the precise moment to strike, how to position the sword for maximum effect, the way to use the wind to your advantage, Elio could see the dawning realization on their faces.

But he wasn't done yet. With a glint in his eye, Elio began to share his own discoveries, the tweaks and improvements he'd made.

♢♢♢♢

Varick snorted disdainfully. "And we're supposed to trust the advice of a filth like you? I agreed so I can get the equipment from my uncle, but I don't need to follow your fathers tricks to win. The families have always..."

"Shut your mouth, idiot!" Brok snapped, clenching his fists. ""Or did you conveniently forget that Elio surpassed the third challenge before you?"

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. "And here we go again. It's like watching children squabble."

Elio raised a hand to calm tempers. The gesture he repeated was curiously similar to that of a certain summoner. The similarity wasn't lost on Varick, whose sneer faltered for a moment.

"Enough, please. Varick, if my 'filthy tricks' offend your delicate sensibilities so much, feel free to leave. But remember, your uncle specifically asked you to follow this strategy. Or are you going to disobey a direct order from a Summoner?"

He paused, a glint of challenge in his eyes. "Besides, you're so proud of your family's 80% success rate. But have you ever stopped to consider that a 20% failure rate with equipment worth a small fortune is actually pretty pathetic? If you know better, enlighten us. I'm all ears."

Varick clenched his jaw but remained grudgingly silent.

Elio nodded with satisfaction. "Good. Now, pay attention. The third level monster is a tricky bastard. It creates a dome around itself, sucking in air from above and blasting it out from the sides as it spins. Not only does this turn the area into a frozen hellscape, but it also makes getting close about as easy as cuddling Varick… The wind also prevents you from easily approaching."

"So how in the world are we supposed to reach it in time? You mentioned we only have five seconds, right? That's barely enough time to run!" Kriz asked worriedly.

"Pay attention, I already told you that before the monster starts spinning to create its dome, it first focuses on covering itself in nickel. During those first few seconds, it doesn't expel anything from the sides. It's in that brief moment when you must run.”

He paced as he spoke, his energy infectious. "I wasted two seconds activating my sword, but you lot are going to learn to do it on the run. Trust me, you don't want that cold paralyzing you mid-charge."

Varick, never one to stay quiet for long, snorted. "And how, pray tell, are we supposed to avoid turning into ice statues without top-tier armor? Or is that another of your brilliant peasant tricks?"

Elio smiled smugly. "Oh, it's quite simple, really. You'll use a heat blanket to counter the cold. A basic 40-point enchanted cloth should do the trick… The one I shouldn't have been so stingy to buy… Forget about blowing Von Lucien's 100,000 points on fancy armor that'll only weigh you down with your pitiful strength of 2."

"Pitiful?" Varick sputtered, his face turning an interesting shade of red. "A heat blanket? Are you out of your mind? What's next, fighting the monster with a feather duster? What about mana swords, will you say those are useless too? Like my uncle Luc…"

Elio shook his head. "You won't use one. The fire sword's heat will be your best friend against this monster. Having 5 attack points with a mana sword won't mean squat if you're too frozen to swing it."

"But will they really give us fire swords?" Ren frowned. "I sent my savings to my mother. I can't exactly afford to drop 1000 points on one."

"That's what Von Lucien said, if not then I can give you a loan," Elio confirmed. He turned to Varick, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Although Varick, being a spoiled brat from the privileged families, probably has access to those fancy superior three-use fire swords, right?"

Varick shifted uncomfortably, clearly embarrassed that Elio had so openly exposed his advantages over and over. "Well, yes, but..."

"It would be ideal if everyone could use one of those to guarantee a killing blow on the first strike," Elio cut in. "Though the thought of burning 10,000 mana points on a disposable item makes me want to cry."

Kriz's eyes widened in surprise. "They spend 10,000 points on a disposable sword? That's a waste!"

Elio shrugged. "Welcome to the world of the privileged, my friend. Don't worry, though. You'll be using the 1,000-point version like the rest of us mere mortals. Our spoiled friend here can keep his fancy toothpicks."

"As for me," he continued, a hint of pride creeping into his voice, "I could afford one of those now, but I'd sooner eat my own feet. Call me a bit stingy, but I prefer my mana points where I can see them."

Kriz let out a laugh. "A bit stingy? That's the understatement of the year!"

Elio allowed himself a small smile before pressing on. "Now, in addition to the heat blanket and fire sword, I strongly suggest each of you carries a 10-point portable breath of air stone."

Brok blinked, confusion written all over his face. "What for? That thing barely gives you the oxygen of one mana point if you generate it yourself."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Elio said, warming to his subject. "The air stone will let you keep your mouth shut and your hands free. For just 10 points, it could be crucial to prevent the cold from paralyzing your bodies, like what happened to me."

Varick, predictably, scoffed. "Do we really need such trivial trinkets?"

Elio fixed him with a steady gaze. "If you want to gamble with your life, be my guest. But when you're lying there frozen solid, don't come crying to me. Oh wait, you won't be able to."

Ren nodded slowly. "It makes sense. Better safe than sorry, right?"

Brok scratched his head. "Well, if that's all we need, it sounds pretty simple actually."

"Don't get overconfident," Elio warned. "Execution is crucial. You'll have to use every ounce of strength to make the most of those first few seconds. In the end, the monster may decide to attack you directly if you don't reach the core fast enough."

Varick, unable to resist one last jab, snorted. "As if I'd fail at a measly level three. Level four is where the real challenge lies."

Elio glared at him. “By all means, keep that overconfidence. I'm sure it'll serve you well when you're staring death in the face."

A tense silence fell over the group as Varick and Elio held each other's defiant gaze. Finally, Varick looked away with a frustrated grunt that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed curse.

"Fine," he spat, as if the words physically pained him. "I'll play along with your little strategy. But if this fails, filth, I'll make sure you regret it."

Elio nodded with satisfaction. "It will work, if you all follow the plan to the letter. And if you fail I’ll surely regret my 100 thousa… I mean, your sad, sad death… Now, let's begin with the practice drills..."

With those words, the unlikely group dove into their training. Despite their differences, a common purpose united them:

Survival.