The last six months had passed in a blur. Days bled into each other, and before he knew it, the day of departure had arrived.
With his schedule cleared, he focused solely on personal preparation. He trained relentlessly, pushing himself to the limit—yet it never felt like enough. There was no sudden leap in power, no breakthrough in rank—just sweat, fatigue, and frustration—that grew stronger every day.
It didn't take long for dissatisfaction to creep in. A restless hunger began to stir deep within him—a longing for battle. He had never been in a real fight, not before coming to this world. But here, everything revolved around strength.
In this world, fighting was a way of life.
Maybe that growing yearning came from the brutal reality of this new world. Or perhaps it was something deeper—his burning desire to avenge his father. Whatever the reason, the young boy found himself counting the days until their journey to the Wildlands. One memory echoed in his mind, the voice of his old mentor sharp and unwavering, repeating some sentence over and over.
"Surviving a month in the Wildlands is worth more than years at any academy."
Those words became his fuel. Every moment of preparation was another brick in the foundation of his readiness. He devoured every scrap of information he could find about the terrain, the creatures that lurked there, and the harsh truths of the wild.
He poured every last bit of his strength into his swordsmanship—ensuring it was ready, awaiting the day it could finally be unleashed.
And then, at last, the morning of departure arrived.
Ares took his time getting ready, lingering over the stack of letters from his mother. Some made him smile, bringing a fleeting warmth to his heart. Others were... less tender. Bordering on threatening, especially the ones where she practically forbade him from even thinking about going to the Wildlands.
He sighed as he read the last letter once again, regret flickering in his chest for ever telling her about the academy's new curriculum.
"That's what you get," he muttered to himself, folding the letter with care.
She had been the one to convince him the academy was the right path. And now? He was practically forced to head straight for the place she had forbidden him from ever going.
"Can't outplay fate," he muttered with a shrug, tucking the letter into the inner pocket of his jacket.
Then, with a quiet breath, he stood up.
Finally ready to leave, Ares stepped out from the cozy warmth of his room and made his way toward the academy's main courtyard, where his group was scheduled to meet their supervisor.
The corridors were a blur of motion. Students brushed past him, racing back and forth in a frantic rush. With so many preparing to depart today, the usual calm had given way to chaos. The narrow halls were packed shoulder-to-shoulder, the air buzzing with excitement, anxiety, and desperate pleas to stay.
Soon, he emerged into the wide-open courtyard, its ground paved with neatly laid bricks. Faculty buildings loomed on all sides, framing the space like silent sentinels. The scene before him was no less hectic—students clustered in noisy groups, hoisting bags, checking gear, or searching for their groups.
The overly crowded space made it nearly impossible to move. Still, after countless minutes of weaving through the sea of bodies, he finally saw a large banner held high above the crowd, the number 37 boldly displayed across it.
He made his way toward it, and as he approached, a familiar figure greeted him with a nod and a small smile.
"Selene," he said, nodding back as he recognised the girl. Then, his gaze shifted to the man towering above his group.
It was their supervisor.
Ares had only encountered him a handful of times over the last six months—brief appearances during the mandatory group meetings held every other month. Beyond that, the man remained an enigma. Yet his name still lingered somewhere at the edge of memory, oddly familiar.
"I see you're all here," the man said, his voice calm and firm. "We depart at once. Lingering here will only waste time."
Without another word, he turned sharply and strode toward the academy stables beyond the courtyard.
There, a massive caravan stood waiting. Its polished wooden frame, reinforced with thick iron bands, looked both elegant and battle-worn, a veteran of countless expeditions. Hitched to it were three colossal horses—twice the size of any horse Ares had seen back on Earth. Their muscles bulged with raw power, and their hooves struck the stone with a deep thud.
He lingered for a while, staring at the creatures before Selene's voice snapped him out of the trance.
"You okay, Ares?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah," he said, shaking himself from the haze.
Then, he hurried toward the caravan and climbed in carefully, the wood creaking beneath his light weight as he stepped inside.
Soon enough, the entire group had settled inside, and with a lurch, the wooden wheels began to turn. The caravan creaked to life, rolling away from the vast expanse of the academy and toward the untamed lands that would soon become their new home.