They were quiet, shadows huddled on the hill, and the cold made their breath nothing but quiet as ghosts. One of them—tall, with shoulders like a gate—tilted his head toward the field and said, “That red-eyed girl’s arrows bite deeper than they look.”

  A soft laugh, like metal on glass, from the crossbowman. He ran a fingertip along his crossbow. “Heard she is a [Ranger], [Archer] with [Rogue] tricks,” he said. “Hybrid is always dangerous. I’ll take the red eye girl first. Then the red haired girl.” His voice was casual, but his hands were already moving, checking tension, settling aim.

  “We move into position,” the oldest of them rasped. He sounded like someone who had given that order more times than he wanted to remember. The others adjusted without comment—their movements small and precise, as if they were practiced at taking the world in measured bites.

  The crossbowman’s grin was thin. “Feeling lucky today,” he murmured, and the bolt rested against the string like a heartbeat under skin. “Two arrows. Two kills. Don’t make things complicated, captain.”

  The smallest of them—thin, quick—snapped a smile that wasn’t kind. “I hope your hands are as good as your mouth, today.” she said. “I don’t want extra work.”

  They were all wrong when they thought it would be easy. Under their cloaks the fabrics drank in the night, but the wind carried the sound nonetheless: the whine of arrows, the thud of spears, the low, steady cry of the battlefield. Down below, Kana’s bow sang again, and whatever confidence the cloaked marksmen had came with the soft click of a trigger being set. Now it was only a matter of breathing and timing—and the thin line between a plan and a mistake.

  …..

  It was when the thirty third arrow left her bow that the rhythm of battle changed. Kana caught the motion from her [High Awareness]—five dark shapes, the ones on the hill. At first, she thought they were observers, scouts maybe, or some kind of summoners directing the monster horde from afar. But then—

  they moved. Just four of them. One stood still.

  The five broke apart like cracks splintering through ice. Four vanished into the white storm below, their black cloaks dissolving into the wind. One remained on the hill, half-buried in snow, still and deliberate.

  Kana’s instincts screamed.

  The northern soldiers pressed forward, shields locked, holding against the tide of monsters. Frost wolves fell, ogres howled, and the smell of burnt mana hung thick. For a moment, it looked as though the students might actually hold.

  Then something whistled through the air.

  Kana turned—too late.

  A glint of metal, fast and thin as a flash of light. She barely got her dagger up in time. The impact jolted her arm, the dagger ripped from her grasp, spinning into the snow. Sparks bloomed from nowhere, fading as quickly as they came.

  Rin flinched beside her. Roy stumbled back, hand raised, “What was that?”

  Kana bent, eyes narrowing at the strange arrow half-buried in the frost. The shaft was smooth, the head finely crafted—not dungeon-forged, but well crafted by human hands. She could feel the precision in it, the malice, to kill anything in one shot.

  “Not monsters,” she said quietly. “They’re humans… and very well armed.”

  Suri’s voice carried over the wind, strained. “I can’t track them—they move too fast! But one of them’s still up there. Hill, near the tree. He’s holding a bow—no, something else. It’s… strange.”

  Another whistle. Sharper. Higher-pitched.

  Kana didn’t hesitate. Her bow was already raised, the string singing before the rest of them even reacted. Her arrow met the incoming bolt midair—a collision that cracked like thunder. Both projectiles shattered, scattering sparks and shards of frost that drifted down over the battlefield.

  The others froze. Even the monsters seemed to falter at the noise.

  “Someone’s coming,” Kana said, her voice low but steady. Her hand trembled slightly as she drew another arrow. “Stick close. Boris, Adam, Andel—fall back to the main line. Now!”

  Through the curtain of snow, four blurs moved—low, fast, and purposeful. The air bent around them as they approached, almost too quick for her eyes to follow.

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  When the second arrow had missed, they all moved like a hungry hyena.

  ……

  When Kana’s warning cut through the blizzard, Boris’s grip tightened around his spear. He scanned the chaotic front, eyes narrowing—searching not for monsters, but for movement that felt wrong.

  Then he saw them.

  Four hooded figures broke free from the ranks of dungeon beasts, running with impossible speed. Their cloaks snapped like ribbons in the wind.

  Boris braced, ready to meet them head-on. But instead of clashing, all four leaped—vaulting through the air, their forms blurring as they passed overhead.

  For a heartbeat, Boris stood dumbfounded.

  Then instinct screamed.

  He wouldn’t be able to do anything unless he used his skill, [Giant Spear].

  The weapon expanded in his grip, runes glowing faintly along its length. The last of the four black hooded figures landed too close—and froze mid-motion as the spear’s tip thrust toward him. The man reacted just in time, twisting his body and catching the blow with a curved sword. Sparks scattered in the snowlight.

  “You’re not our target,” the man said calmly, voice muffled by his hood. “But you’re interfering with our mission. So…” He reached to his waist, drawing a second curved blade. “I’ll remove you first.”

  Dual swords. Very rare even in the kingdom. Boris adjusted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. “Then try.”

  The hooded man blurred forward, faster than expected. His steps left faint imprints on the snow before vanishing entirely. A northern soldier beside Boris saw the motion, thrusting his spear to intercept.

  Too slow.

  The black hooded figure parried, stepped inside the guard, and drove a glowing hand into the soldier’s chest. The man gasped—blood spraying against the white frost as he crumpled.

  Boris didn’t think. He moved. His spear came down in a heavy arc—[Spear Strike]—the air cracked with the motion. The black hooded figure turned, forced to block, his twin blades crossing above his head. Andel saw his chance and charged, mana gathering along his lance.

  [Shining Strike]

  Light exploded from his weapon, blinding even Boris for a moment. The lance struck true, slamming into the black hooded figure’s abdomen.

  The man staggered—but didn’t fall.

  He looked down, brushing at his cloak where the strike had landed. The fabric shimmered faintly, smoke rising from faint runic lines. “Huh. That actually triggered one of the enchantments.” His tone was casual. “And I liked this cloak.” He sighed. “Guess that one time physical shield is gone now.”

  Boris froze. That confidence. That tone. He’d fought men like this before—too calm in the middle of chaos, too sure of their advantage.

  His gut tightened. This one’s dangerous.

  “Andel.” Boris’s voice was low, measured. “Go. I’ll handle this one.”

  Andel hesitated. “You sure?”

  “Go!”

  Andel pulled back, reluctantly returning to the line.

  The black hooded figure's lips curved, just barely visible beneath his hood. “Brave, young—or not.” he said. “Or foolish.”

  Boris spun his spear once, settling into stance, feeling the weight and balance. Focus Boris!

  For the first time, the black hooded figure’s posture shifted—his curved swords lowering slightly, like a predator acknowledging a worthy hunt.

  Around them, Adam and Leo held the front, unaware that behind their line, one of the Empire’s phantoms had found new prey.

  ……

  Kana couldn’t help but be impressed. The four hooded figures were fast—too fast. Their movements were sharp, disciplined, every step seemed no wasted motion.

  When they broke through the monster line and leaped toward the students, Kana’s instincts screamed confirmation: humans.

  And not just any humans—killers. Like the shadow man. They were here to hunt someone.

  Either she or Suri were their targets. She didn’t have time to figure out which but two arrows she had never seen before targeting them were enough for her suspicions.

  Boris caught one of them mid-charge, his booming shout lost in the chaos as he drew the enemy’s focus and pulled him away.

  Good. That left three.

  Kana’s lips curved into a smile, more habit than joy. Three was manageable. Rin could handle two or three.

  “Now, Rin!” Kana shouted.

  Rin’s eyes flared. [Guilty Torture]

  One of the assassins screamed—an awful, tearing sound that didn’t belong to this frozen world. The figure collapsed, clutching her head, thrashing on the snow as steam rose from her body.

  The other two paused, only briefly, before fixing their gazes back on Kana. Their focus was absolute—eyes empty, movements too fluid to be ordinary.

  “Two more, Rin!” Kana ordered.

  “I can’t!” Rin gasped, staggering. “Somehow… just using it once drained all my mana.”

  Kana blinked, confused even in the middle of battle. That shouldn’t happen. Rin was level nine—her mana pool should’ve held steady for at least five casts. Unless… the cost scaled with the target’s strength?

  The remaining two black hooded figures sprinted forward, snow exploding beneath their boots. Kana reached for her next arrow—but before she could loose it, a blur of steel crossed in front of her.

  Professor Wor-en.

  His blade met one of the black hooded figures mid-leap, sparks flashing bright in the wind. “Fighting humans wasn’t supposed to be part of our agenda here!” he barked, his tone both furious and resigned.

  Suri appeared beside him in a shimmer of mana, her hands already weaving. “I’ll back you up, Professor!”

  Kana exhaled through her teeth, steadying herself. “Can Zia help us?”

  Suri’s expression darkened. “She’s still… watching?”

  “Watching?” Kana hissed. “Seriously?”

  But there was no time to argue. The remaining black hooded figure was closing in fast—silent, blade low, steps light as mist.

  Kana dropped her bow, drew her daggers.

  The world slowed. The wind thinned.

  Her heart pounded, but her breathing stayed calm.

  “Alright,” she whispered to herself. A quick glance towards one of the bloody fallen northern soldiers. Rage boiling inside her. It wasn’t her fault. It was their fault.

  None of them will leave.. Alive.