Year 1464 AD, Kingdom of Shersia

  The Kingdom of Shersia moved through its seasons with a predictable rhythm, indifferent to the lives of those inhabiting it. Two years had passed since the evaluation at the church in Larethin. The stone walls of Saint Elyss’s Rest remained as weathered and humble as ever, but the daily routine for two of its wards had shifted entirely.

  Alaric and Kellan were rarely seen in the orphanage these days. Instead, they stood amidst the rough and often loud crowd. They had officially joined Torren and his party for the subjugation requests, taking on missions to clear out pests and threats from the surrounding territories.

  The motivation was…. well Money.

  While the Royal Knight Academy was a prestigious public institution under the direct banner of the Royal Knight Order, and thus required no tuition fees, life outside the classroom still had a cost. The Academy provided boarding, standard-issue uniforms, and three square meals a day during the training period. However, that was where the charity ended. Personal equipment maintenance, potions, specialized books, weekend meals, and travel expenses were the responsibility of the student.

  If we go there with empty pockets, we will be at a disadvantage..... Alaric thought, adjusting the strap of his leather gauntlet as he waited for Torren to finish speaking with the receptionist. The nobility will bring their own resources. We need a safety net. The money won't disappear if we don't get selected, but if we do, we need to be ready.

  Beside him, Kellan looked significantly different than he had two years ago. At twelve, he had hit a growth spurt that broadened his shoulders and thickened his limbs. It had been a year since he participated in the church’s trial himself, following in Alaric’s footsteps, and he also got recommended by the church

  Kellan had received a strong recommendation based on his affinity for Earth magic and physical strengthening. He wasn't a mage but a vanguard. His mana capacity allowed for heavy-hitting spells like Rock Bullet and Earthquake, but his signature utility spell was 'Light-weight.'

  It was a peculiar piece of magic. It didn't change his mass, but it manipulated the gravitational pull on his body and gear, effectively making him lighter. When combined with his physical strengthening magic, the result was a heavy warrior fighting like a assassin.

  There was a slight complication regarding their timelines, however. Even though Alaric had received his recommendation first, the Academy had strict age requirements. Kellan, being almost two years older, was now of the proper age to sit for the entrance exam next year. Alaric, currently ten, would have to wait another year after Kellan’s entry.

  It’s better this way, Alaric mused, watching Kellan inspect the edge of his short sword. He can scout the environment first.

  "Alright, listen up," Torren said, walking back to the group. The veteran hunter looked tired but focused. "We got the green light. Farm owner is losing his mind over Ironhill Ants. Says they ate a cow yesterday."

  The party consisted of eight hunters today. There was Torren, his second-in-command Jacob, two shield bearers hired for the day, a spearman, an archer, and the two boys. It was a standard composition for a D-rank threat.

  They departed the city, heading toward the farmlands in the outer district. The destination was a large plot of land that bordered a rocky, forested ridge. The soil here was loose, perfect for the devious creatures they were hunting.

  Ironhill Ants were D-rank monsters, but that classification was deceptive. Individually, they were manageable for a novice hunter. They were almost human-sized, covered in dark, rusty-red chitin that deflected light weapons, and possessed mandibles strong enough to snap bone. However, the danger lay in their biology. They were a hive mind. If you fought one, you were fighting the colony.

  Upon arrival, the devastation was clear.

  "Standard formation," Torren ordered, his voice low. "We locate the hill, but we don't engage the swarm. Not yet."

  The plan was simple, a strategy honed by years of pest control. They would find a foraging ant, kill it, and let a second one escape. The survivor would release pheromones to signal danger, retreating to the colony to gather reinforcements. The party would then track the retreating ant from a safe distance until it revealed the location of the main nest.

  Once the nest was found, Alaric would take point. As the one with the most powerful flame magic, his job was to flood the interior tunnels with fire, suffocating the colony and forcing the Ant Queen to surface. Without the Queen, the colony would fracture and die off within days.

  "Contact," Jacob whispered, pointing toward a ridge about fifty meters away.

  Two Ironhill Ants were stripping the bark off a fallen tree. Their antennae twitched, sensing the vibrations of the approaching hunters.

  "Jacob, take the left one. Kellan, scare the right one off," Torren commanded.

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  Jacob lunged forward with his mace, crushing the head of the first ant with a sickening crunch of exoskeleton. The second ant hissed, mandibles clicking rapidly, and turned to flee.

  "Let it go," Torren signaled.

  The party shadowed the creature, moving through the tall grass. The ant moved erratically, zig-zagging through the terrain until it vanished behind a large outcrop of grey stone.

  When the party crested the ridge, they found it. A massive mound of earth, rising three meters into the air, with a gaping hole at the center that led deep underground.

  "That's the entrance," Torren said. "Alaric, you're up. Burn it out."

  Alaric stepped forward, raising his hand. He didn't need to chant fully.

  “Creo Ignis”

  A torrent of flame erupted from his palm, rushing into the dark tunnel. The sound of crackling fire echoed from below, followed by high-pitched screeches.

  "Pull back!" Torren shouted. "Wait for the Queen!"

  They retreated twenty meters, weapons drawn, waiting for the large matriarch to drag herself out for fresh air.

  But the ground began to rumble.

  It wasn't just the Queen.

  From the main entrance, and from a dozen smaller, concealed holes around the clearing, ants began to pour out. They surged like a rusty flood, mandibles snapping in a frenzy.

  "Too many!" the archer yelled, loosing an arrow that bounced harmlessly off a worker ant’s head.

  They had expected a dozen soldiers to guard the Queen. Instead, there were easily fifty or sixty of them. The swarm moved with terrifying speed, closing the distance in seconds.

  "Retreat! Defensive line!" Torren roared, slamming his shield into the first ant that reached him.

  The party backed away, but the ants were flanking them. The sheer number of enemies made the standard plan obsolete. If they turned to run, they would be hunted down.

  Alaric scanned the battlefield, his mind racing.

  He needed something that covered a wide area but allowed his allies to remain safe. He needed a denial of area spell.

  "Kellan, cover me!" Alaric shouted.

  Kellan stepped in front of Alaric, his body glowing with a faint green aura of strengthening magic. He swung his sword, cleaving through an ant’s leg.

  “Creo Terra Quake”

  The ground rippled violently for a second, causing the front line of ants to stumble and lose their footing. It bought Alaric three seconds.

  Alaric raised both hands toward the sky. I need a barrier first.

  "Creo Aqua" he whispered.

  Above the party, a thin, translucent sheet of ice materialized. It wasn't a wall, but a roof, hovering three meters above their heads, covering exactly the area where the hunters stood.

  Torren looked up, confused. "What are you doing?"

  "Don't step out from under the ice!" Alaric warned.

  He manipulated the moisture in the air above the ice sheet, drawing from the humidity . He condensed it into a localized cloud, heavy and dark.

  Then, he applied heat. Massive amounts of it.

  Boil it.

  "Burning Rain."

  A deluge of rain erupted over a ten-meter radius surrounding the party. The water was superheated to nearly 100 degrees Celsius.

  The effect was instantaneous.

  The ants, their biological sensors sensitive to temperature and moisture, screeched in agony. The boiling water seeped into the joints of their armor, cooked their sensitive antennae, and blinded their compound eyes. Steam rose from the battlefield in a thick, hissing fog.

  The hunters, protected by the ice umbrella Alaric had created, felt only the radiant heat. Outside their safe zone, the world was a blur of steam.

  Twenty ants died within moments, curled up as their insides cooked. The rest, driven by instinctual panic, broke formation and fled, abandoning the defense of the nest.

  The steam cleared slowly. Standing alone near the mound, confused and unprotected, was the Queen. She was massive, twice the size of a normal ant, but slow and vulnerable without her soldiers.

  Torren didn't waste the opening. "Kill the Queen!"

  The party surged forward. With the swarm scattered, the Queen stood no chance. Jacob and Kellan reached her first, delivering the killing blows before she could retreat underground.

  Torren wiped sweat and grime from his forehead, sheathing his sword. He looked at the carnage around them, the boiled carcasses of the ants, the steam still rising from the damp earth, and the scorch marks where the water had been hottest.

  He turned his gaze to Alaric. The boy was drinking water from a flask, looking calm, as if he had just finished a light jog.

  That wasn't an adept level spell, Torren thought, a chill running down his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. The control required to shield us while boiling everything else..... that’s mid B-rank capability. At ten.

  The other hunters exchanged glances. They had known Alaric was talented. But this was different. This was terrifying.

  "Good work," Torren said finally, his voice slightly hoarse. "Let's harvest the body and burn the rest. We’re done here."

  The cleanup took an hour. By the time they returned to the city, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets.

  While Alaric and Kellan were counting their share of the reward at the guild, life in the city continued.

  In the market, Sister Elaine walked with a basket in her hand, inspecting a stall selling veggies. Beside her, Lia held a small bag.

  "Stay close, Lia," Elaine said gently, smiling at the shopkeeper.

  "I am, Sister," Lia replied, her voice soft.

  The market was crowded, filled with the noise of haggling merchants and playing children. Neither the nun nor the girl noticed the figure standing in the alleyway between a bakery and a tavern.

  He was a silhouette against the dimming light, wrapped in a nondescript cloak. He wasn't doing anything suspicious, simply leaning against the wall, watching.

  A grin spread across his face. It wasn't a happy smile, nor a menacing one. It was a saddening grin!