Chapter 33: Emon’s Question!

Gwendolyn fell silent for a heartbeat. Cecil caught the almost imperceptible twitch at the tip of her tail — that tiny flick that meant she was debating whether to grant the request.

She drew in a breath and exhaled a wisp of faint cold air toward the space before her. A hexagonal snowflake no bigger than a fingernail drifted out of her maw. It hung suspended in the air for roughly two seconds before settling gently onto the open pages of Lena’s book.

Lena stared down at the tiny snowflake resting on the paper, and her lips curved upward. It was a smile entirely unlike her earlier nervous, shy ones — pure and unclouded, like the very first frost flower blooming on a winter windowpane.

"...Thank you," she whispered.

Vera stepped over from behind and stood beside her sister. One hand rested atop Lena’s head while she held out her other hand toward Cecil. "By the way, what are your names? We haven’t properly introduced ourselves yet."

Cecil shook her hand. Her palm was dry and warm, yet her grip was surprisingly firm, like an iron clamp wrapped in leather. "Cecil von Ashford. New student of Group B."

Vera’s eyebrow twitched upward. "Ashford? You mean the —"

"Yes. That Ashford," Cecil said.

Vera dropped the handshake without pressing for more details. She nodded toward Freddy and Lydia, gesturing for them to come forward.

Freddy stepped up. Turner poked his head out from Freddy’s shoulder, his small grey nose twitching as he sniffed the air. "Freddy Toller, Group B. Turner’s my spirit beast — a weasel. Fast runner, but no good against big foes."

Lydia came next. Ivy slid halfway down her wrist before coiling back again. "Lydia Cole, Group B. My spirit beast is Ivy, the emerald vine‑serpent. She excels at coiling and restraining targets, not head‑on fights."

The middle‑aged woman pushed herself up from the straw mat and brushed dust off her robes. "I’m Martha Grey. Group A, one batch ahead of Vera." Her rough voice softened slightly. "Ore the Rock Bear has been with me for five years. He does not talk much, but he never shirks work."

Lastly, the man in the suit stood and adjusted his loosely‑undone tie. "Emon Clair. Not a student. I’m an outside consultant hired by the academy, tasked with surveying mineral deposits around the teleportation gates. Unfortunately, I wandered through a gate I ought to have avoided." He stroked the chest feathers of the silver‑grey falcon perched on the wooden beam overhead. "This is my partner, Silver‑Eye."

The seven people formed a half‑circle sitting on the stone chamber’s straw mats. Their spirit beasts crouched, lay down, or hovered in the cramped space. Breaths and heartbeats mingled in the quiet air, flowing together like a slow, hidden underground river.

Gwendolyn crouched before Cecil’s knees, her tail coiled around her paws. Lena sat two steps away, her book open across her lap. The hexagonal snowflake had melted already, leaving a faint damp ring on the paper. She kept stealing quick glances at Gwendolyn, only to jerk her gaze back down and pretend to read.

Leaning against the crate with one leg propped up, Vera swept her amber eyes over everyone, then refocused on Cecil.

"You three newcomers," she said, her tone growing more serious. "Tell me, how exactly did you make your way through the Beast Gate passage?"

Cecil thought briefly and gave a concise account: advancing through the sewer‑like tunnels, Gwendolyn dispelling the disguised runes, encountering two dark‑brown centipedes, using Dragon Resonance to intimidate them, squeezing through the narrow gaps between the creatures and the stone walls, arriving outside the stone gate, and running into the fire centipedes alongside Vera.

Once he finished, light swirled slowly within Vera’s amber eyes. "The disguised runes were broken? The early‑section markers had been altered — you traveled the genuine path."

"The genuine path?" Lydia asked.

"All of us took different routes." Vera gestured toward Martha and Emon. "Martha entered through the Black Marsh Gate and faced swamp creatures. Emon came through the Crystal Gate, surrounded by reflective walls where one wrong turn meant slamming straight into stone. Lena and I took the Hourglass Gate, filled with countdown corridors."

She paused. "After I got trapped here, I also doubled back and tried the Beast Gate on my own — circled its outer zone for three days and could never get into its core." She fixed her gaze on Cecil. "But you got inside. You walked the unmodified true path."

A beat of silence hung over the chamber. Gwendolyn crouched at Cecil’s feet, her tail swaying gently, her blue eyes glinting under the dim yellow lamplight.

"What does that mean?" Cecil asked.

Vera looked at him, and her amber eyes narrowed slightly.

"It means this maze wants you to get in," she said. "It sends everyone else on detours, yet lays a straight road for you."

"I have a question," Emon spoke up at a steady pace. "Logically speaking, you three." He nodded in turn at Cecil, Freddy and Lydia. "are Group‑B students. I have not been at the academy long, yet I have studied its basic system.

Group B is assigned mostly theoretical coursework, with limited combat resources and generally lower‑tier spirit beasts. Yet you not only entered a teleportation trial ground, you navigated the genuine first half of the Beast Gate. From everything I know, that is extremely unusual."

Quiet fell once more. Martha leaned against the wall with folded arms. Ore the rock bear rolled over at her feet, seemingly drawn into the conversation. Vera still sat with her leg propped up, her amber eyes shining with genuine curiosity, eager to hear the answer. Lena lifted her gaze from her book, darted a fleeting look at Cecil, then quickly lowered her head again.

Cecil could feel three pairs of eyes from the trapped survivors locking onto him. He glanced down at Gwendolyn. She crouched before his knees, her tail brushing lightly across the straw mat. Their eyes met for a split second. She gave him no hint — no nod, no shake of the head. She simply waited for him to speak for himself.

Cecil looked back and met Emon’s stare.

"Your question is reasonable. Three Group‑B students making it this far is indeed abnormal. We did not push through relying on individual strength alone."

He glanced sideways at Freddy and Lydia. Freddy sat up straighter. Turner hopped off his shoulder and settled onto his knees, his grey ears pricked upright. Lydia lifted Ivy from her wrist and cupped the serpent in her palms; its emerald body coiled softly.

"We have run coordination drills ever since day one," Cecil explained. "Not during official classes, on our own time. Freddy’s Turner handles flanking harassment and scouting. Lydia’s Ivy restrains enemies and controls terrain. My Gwendolyn takes front‑line pressure and unleashes frost damage. Individually, none of our spirit beasts are overwhelmingly powerful, but together they cover each other’s weaknesses."

Freddy picked up the thread, his usual casual manner replaced by earnestness. "We have entered outer teleportation trials twice before. The first time against jackals, our formation was messy and we nearly got hurt. By the second time, fighting wolf packs, our teamwork was far smoother. Turner runs fast and draws enemies toward false directions. Ivy tangles their limbs, then Gwendolyn follows up with frost. Combined, that is enough."

Lydia nodded. Ivy raised its head from her palms, its tiny tongue flicking rapidly through the air. "We have not trained together for long, but Cecil keeps adjusting everyone’s positioning. Whenever a coordination attempt fails, he analyzes what went wrong immediately and makes us practice it again. That is why by our third trial run," she paused, "we had grown noticeably stronger."

Cecil did not add further comment. He wrapped it up in a natural tone. "So we got here not because any single one of us is overpowered. It is the five of us." He hesitated briefly, thinking of Oliver and Edwin stuck inside other gates. "Plus two more companions, constantly drilling team synergy. For three‑person combat like today, we already practiced chaining our abilities together out in the field."

Silence stretched through the chamber. Leaning against the wall, Martha asked with curiosity in her gravelly voice. "Do Group‑B students even have spare time for private team drills? Are your class schedules that light?"

"The classes themselves are not heavy," Freddy answered. "But we also discuss plans over meals in the cafeteria. We review our mistakes before sleeping. We do not have the ready‑made training regimens that Group‑A gets, so we had to build our own."

Martha’s lips shifted. It was hardly a smile, more a quiet expression of understanding. She asked no further questions.

Emon leaned back against the wall. Silver‑Eye flew down from the beam and landed upon his shoulder, its sharp beak gently brushing his ear. He stayed quiet for a moment, then nodded.

"That makes sense. Team coordination compensated for your individual combat shortcomings." He paused, then added another question. "Yet the genuine path outside the Beast Gate required someone to break dragon‑race runes. How did you manage that?"