I went towards the exist of the entrance of the supreme Hall, I saw Leon and Aiden.

Leon was already waiting at the crossroads outside the Supreme Hall, arms crossed, foot tapping. Of course, he looked perfect as always hair neatly combed, uniform pristine, posture screaming noble confidence.

"Michael!" he called, spotting me immediately. "You're late."

"It's not even nine yet."

"And yet you're late," Leon said with the righteous certainty of someone who probably believed the sun rose because he allowed it.

Before I could answer, Aiden came jogging from the opposite direction, half his shirt untucked, scarf thrown lazily around his neck.

"Oi, oi! Don't start the lecture without me." He waved cheerfully, grinning ear to ear. "Mornin', lazybones. Mornin', prince charming."

Leon's brows twitched. "Don't call me that."

"What? It suits you. Regal posture, shiny hair, airs of superiority " Aiden grinned wider. "All you need's a crown and you'd pass for a children's book illustration."

I couldn't help it; I snorted.

Leon shot me a betrayed glare. "You're laughing?"

"Not at you. At the accuracy."

He groaned, muttering something about uncultured peasants, but Aiden just clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.

"Relax, Your Highness. We're supposed to be bonding as clubmates. Brotherhood! Camaraderie! You know?"

Leon brushed him off with a scowl, but I noticed he didn't step away entirely. Progress.

"So, Michael," Aiden said as we started walking toward the Hunting Club building, "ready to show off your rank-one skills today?"

"…Not really."

"Liar. You're totally gonna make the rest of us look like amateurs."

"That's not the plan."

"Uh-huh. That's what all the prodigies say."

I rolled my eyes, but Leon interjected smoothly, "Michael won't need to prove himself. His reputation already precedes him. What matters today is aligning ourselves with the club's hierarchy. Establishing our place."

"Spoken like a true politician," Aiden said.

"Next thing we know, you'll be running for student council president."

Leon smirked faintly. "Not me. But perhaps someone else should."

His gaze flicked toward me, sharp for just a second.

I looked away. Yeah, not touching that conversation right now.

Instead, I focused on the building coming into view a broad, two-story hall near the edge of the Arcade Academy grounds.

Unlike the pristine white facades of the classrooms, this one was darker stone, with hunting trophies mounted above the entrance. A wyvern skull. The polished horns of a mana bull. Scratches in the wood that weren't decorative at all.

Aiden whistled low. "Damn. Feels more like a mercenary lodge than a school club."

Leon's chest puffed out a little. "As it should. Hunting is not for the faint of heart."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't faint when you see blood, princeling."

Leon's glare could've killed.

I shook my head, amused despite myself.

For the first time in a while, I wasn't thinking about assassins in alleys, dragons in my head, or divine swords whispering promises.

For the first time, it felt… normal.

Three boys walking to a club meeting, arguing over nothing, with the day ahead of them.

And that was enough to make me almost forget how fragile "normal" really was.

We went in the building to find the club room.

The heavy oak doors creaked as we pushed them open.

The Hunting Club's hall smelled faintly of leather, steel oil, and something earthy—like dried herbs hanging from the rafters. Inside, the main room was wide and open, with long wooden tables pushed to the sides and a noticeboard plastered with maps, mission requests, and bounty flyers.

Students milled about, some already in partial hunting gear with light armor, reinforced boots, gauntlets. They weren't posturing like the Swordsmanship Club types; this felt rougher, more practical.

"Woah…" Aiden whistled. "This place is legit. Like… half a tavern, half a guild house."

"Professional," Leon corrected. "Exactly the environment necessary for cultivating serious hunters."

I muttered, "Feels like I walked into an RPG hub."

They both looked at me.

I coughed. "Never mind."

Before we could drift further in, someone approached.

He was tall more taller than Leon by a head to toe and broad in the shoulders, his uniform jacket worn open over reinforced leather. A scar cut across his jaw, and his amber eyes were sharp but not unfriendly. He radiated the kind of quiet authority you couldn't fake.

"Aldric Sterling," Leon whispered beside me, as if announcing royalty.

The third-year. Rank 7 overall. Hunting Club president. And from the way the crowd subtly straightened when he walked past, clearly respected.

"New faces," Aldric said, his voice even and measured. "Lionheart, Stromfang, Wilson. I heard you'd be joining us today."

Leon stepped forward immediately, posture perfect. "It's an honor, Club Leader Sterling. I look forward to proving my capabilities under your guidance."

Aiden elbowed me lightly. "Bet he practiced that in the mirror."

"Probably," I muttered back.

Aldric's gaze slid to me, lingering for a fraction longer than comfortable. "Michael Wilson. The name's been circulating since the VR Dungeon results."

I stiffened. "Just luck."

One corner of his mouth tugged up whether amusement or disbelief, I couldn't tell. "Luck is also a kind of strength of hunter. It is also most precious ally. Don't dismiss it so easily."

Before I could reply, another voice cut in brisk, clipped, and feminine.

"You're crowding the entrance, Aldric."

We turned.

A girl stood a few steps away, arms folded, fiery red hair tied back in a high ponytail. Her uniform was immaculate, not a crease out of place, and her gaze was the kind that could slice steel.

"Anya Sarfire," Leon murmured again. "Vice leader."

She didn't bother with introductions. "If you're joining, find seats. The briefing starts soon."

Aiden raised an eyebrow at me, mouthing strict.

I shrugged.

Aldric didn't seem bothered by her tone. In fact, he gave her a faint nod, then gestured for us to follow him deeper into the hall.

The tables had been arranged in a semi-circle around the noticeboard. By the time we sat down, a dozen other members had taken their places:

Jax Blackwood, second-year, his dark hair tied messily and a permanent lazy grin on his face. He leaned back in his chair like he was on vacation.

Anjali Sharma, sharp-eyed and focused, already scribbling in a notebook.

Carol Frend, who looked nervous enough to chew her sleeve off.

Silas Sullivan, tapping his boot restlessly, like he wanted to be anywhere else.

Antonio Ford, a third-year with heavy shoulders and a resting scowl that rivaled Leon's.

The atmosphere was surprisingly… mixed. Some looked like hardened hunters, others like students still finding their footing.

Aldric stood at the front, arms crossed. Anya was beside him, holding a clipboard like it was a weapon.

"Alright," Aldric began. His voice carried easily, firm but not harsh. "We've got three new members today. Leon Lionheart, Aiden Stromfang, and Michael Wilson."

A few heads turned at my name. A couple of whispers flitted around. I kept my expression neutral.

Anya's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning us like she was assessing weapons on a rack. "Since you're new, here's how this works. The Hunting Club isn't a playground. We're not here to swing swords in circles or brag about mana output. We take requests. We track beasts. We bring results."

Her tone left no room for argument.

Aiden leaned closer, whispering, "She sounds fun at parties."

I elbowed him in the ribs before she noticed.

Jax raised a lazy hand. "C'mon, Anya, don't scare them off on day one. You'll give the poor freshmen a heart attack."

"I'm not here to coddle anyone," Anya shot back.

Aldric cleared his throat, steering things back on track. "The purpose of today's meeting is simple. Orientation. We'll cover our chain of command, how requests are handled, and set expectations. Tomorrow, we move on to field practice."

Leon straightened, eyes shining with determination. "Understood."

Aiden slouched in his chair. "Field practice, huh? As long as we're not chasing rabbits all day…"

"Better rabbits than mana hounds tearing your throat out," Antonio grunted from the far end.

"Mana hounds are cute," Aiden countered.

"Cute until one rips your arm off."

The table rippled with muffled laughter. Even Aldric's lips twitched.

Anya, of course, didn't crack a smile.

She flicked her clipboard. "We're divided into squads for missions. Each squad balances strength, utility, and field awareness. New members will shadow until we assess their capabilities and follow a senior for doing some mission.

"Which means," Jax drawled, "you three get to hang out with me for a while."

Aiden leaned forward eagerly. "Wait, really?"

"Yup. Executive Manager, baby. Means I babysit rookies."

Leon looked vaguely offended. "We hardly require babysitting."

"Sure you don't," Jax said cheerfully. "But orders are orders. You'll tag along with me until Sterling says otherwise."

My gut told me this "babysitting" was going to be anything but relaxing.

Aldric moved on, outlining how requests came in scouts spotted dangerous beasts near villages, merchants paid for escorts, the Academy itself issued tasks for rare materials. Each request was logged on the noticeboard, ranked by risk, and assigned to squads. Success earned contribution points, which translated to Academy credit and personal merit.

Simple enough. Familiar, even.

I'd played this system in countless games. But seeing it applied in a real academy setting gave it weight.

"…and remember," Aldric concluded, "a hunter's pride isn't in how loudly he boasts, but in how consistently he returns alive."

Silence fell for a beat, heavy but not oppressive.

Then Jax clapped his hands. "Alright, rules lecture over. How about introductions, huh? Let's hear from the newbies."

All eyes shifted to us.

Leon stood immediately, bowing his head just enough to look polite without lowering himself.

"Leon Lionheart. First-year, Class A. Swordsmanship specialization. My goal is to master hunting strategies befitting my lineage and contribute to this club's prestige."

A smattering of polite nods. Predictable.

Aiden popped up next, grin wide. "Aiden Stromfang, also Class A. First-year. Specialty making Monster cry for there uncle. Hobby is pissing off Leo."

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