I walked on in a daze, not wanting to delve into deep thought. The deeper I thought, the more my spirits would sink.

But thoughts don’t always follow one’s intentions. My mind kept dredging up memories from the past.

Atra’s childhood was anything but comfortable. As a young child, barely retaining any memories, she lost her parents.

Though the memories are hazy, as if shrouded in fog, it was likely a monster that caused the tragedy.

Even in this era of peace, incidents involving monsters happened constantly. Atra and her parents were caught up in one such event.

Amidst that chaos, Atra was fortunate enough to survive, and her memories became vivid from the moment she faced death.

The memory of the monster charging at her was all too clear. A body several times her size, a gaping maw dripping with saliva, and countless sharp teeth.

Had it not been for a heroic rescue, Atra would have been torn apart by those sharp teeth.

That dramatic rescue left a deep scar in Atra, who was left alone after the loss of her parents.

She was bereaved. Her parents were not terrible people. Even in her faint memories, they were parents who did their best for their child. They were a pair that truly tried to fulfill their roles as parents.

Naturally, it was heartbreaking. After being sent to a temporary residence, she had spent days and nights in tears. The figures who were akin to gods to her were devoured by monsters before her very eyes.

It was then that she realized.

If only she had the power, none of this would have happened.

As a child, she didn’t understand such a simple thing. The world seemed bright, and she thought it would always stay that way.

But the world wasn’t that peaceful. She realized that too late.

Fortune and misfortune come hand in hand. Atra was a case that fit this saying.

She awakened her magic. It was a blessing. She had gained an opportunity to become strong. Though she had not manifested a unique ability, was it not a stroke of luck to have acquired magic?

From her childhood, Atra put in diligent efforts to make her way into the Elementary Academy.

She had awakened her magic. A condition that applied to only a minority of the entire population. She could be considered superior to others in a way.

Back then, in the Elementary Academy, Atra looked around her.

Everyone had awakened their magic. The students before and after her were the same, and most of the professors who taught them were superhumans who had awakened their magic.

There were few weaker than Atra. Many had awakened their magic earlier and had been receiving training longer than she had.

Her confidence was woefully inadequate. There were many around her who were better, and even they could perish at any moment.

So she worked harder.

Didn’t others try as well? Sure, they did. There wasn’t a lack of those who idled away, but most kids were striving for a future, a higher place to reach.

Everyone had the same amount of time, and it wasn’t just Atra working hard while others frittered away.

So she tried even harder. She reduced her leisure time and filled it with training.

She cut down on sleep. Though people talked about recovery time, her regenerative ability was robust, probably because she had just awakened her magic.

Time for play? There was none of that. Whenever her eyes were open, she strived to become stronger.

Even while eating, she practiced manipulating her magic. She fell asleep holding the magic meter and would wake up early in the morning to head to the training room.

Her tender palms would tear and bleed; blisters, large and small, formed on her soles.

Tears of blood were shed sometimes. She even suffered minor internal injuries from magic backlash.

As time passed, Atra graduated from the Elementary Academy with above-average grades.

The top-tier students either manifested their unique abilities or were lucky enough to consume elixirs and receive excellent early  education, thanks to their family’s help.

In Secondary Academy, she repeated a similar or even more rigorous schedule.

Atra graduated with top-tier grades. She still hadn’t manifested a unique ability, but she could fight nearly on par with those who had.

By that time, Atra began to be treated as a promising talent. She even received sponsorship offers.

In the High Academy, her growth was even more pronounced. She wasn’t quite ready for active duty, but she was capable enough to hold her own.

After graduating from the High Academy, Atra aspired to enter Shio-ram but failed.

It was frustrating, but she understood.

Atra had achieved top-tier grades, but that was only within her own academy.

There were many institutions nurturing superhumans around the world, and there were many more talented than her.

Even at her best, Atra was still a superhuman who hadn’t manifested a unique ability.

Atra wanted to become stronger. So, after graduating from the High Academy, she prepared and headed to the African frontlines.

That choice… she would be lying if she said she didn’t regret it. She realized just how sheltered she had been in the academies.

She believed that her survival was more due to fortune than to her basic skills.

Not many dared to venture to the front with skills as rudimentary as hers, and most of those few didn’t leave corpses behind when they died.

Surviving after being torn to pieces a few times was down to luck.

At the same time, she began to possess real strength. As she faced real battles, Atra’s skills improved dramatically.

Whether it was the nature of real combat or Atra herself that was suited to it, her growth was certain.

Around that time, she manifested her unique ability. It wasn’t an innate talent she was born with but one she earned through persistent effort.

It wasn’t that she lacked inborn qualities. Atra belonged to the talented group, and the magic of light she possessed became her unique ability.

No matter the reason, Atra became strong. In just a few years, she had grown beyond the level of a promising academy talent to one capable of active duty.

She was a high-ranking hero, active in the borderlands, when she sustained a severe injury.

While repelling a horde of monsters attempting to cross the frontline, she was ambushed by a high-tier monster specialized in stealth.

She barely managed to counter and strike back but ended up with a gaping wound along her side. Using her magic to contain her spillinng innards, she completed the extermination.

It was no minor injury. Had it been a simple wound, she would have healed and moved on, but curse-like magic had settled in the wound.

She had no choice but to take time to recover.

After years, Atra returned to a seemingly peaceful world. Returning to the inlands, commonly known as the interior, Atra found herself with nothing to do.

As a child, she neglected hobbies for mental health in favor of training, and immediately after graduating from the High Academy, she dashed off to the African front, leaving her with nothing to do in the inland.

To begin with, her injuries prevented her from doing anything special.

So she spent days idly killing time until, at last, someone she had a semblance of friendship with contacted her.

It was a message from the High Academy she had attended, inviting her to a reunion. It reached Atra just as she happened to be in the inland.

Though it was terribly inconvenient, she was persuaded and found herself heading to the site of the High Academy where the reunion was being held.

And then.

-Aaaak! How am I supposed to replicate this…?!

She met that child.

…

…

…

I continued to walk aimlessly. Each step crushed the weeds underfoot. Not weeds grown wild, but those touched by human hands.

The surrounding scenery. Inevitably seen by anyone with eyes.

A space as open as a plain, neatly tended weeds, mounds of earth popping up here and there, and the elongated rocks set in front of them…

It was what one might typically think of as a graveyard. A place where the dead are buried and commemorated.

I didn’t want to come here. I had determined never to visit. One visit, and it would take days for my heart to untangle from the mess it became.

But I visited every year. Before being a flawed human, to be at least a class above beasts, I had to visit.

Atra didn’t consider herself an exemplary adult. If she had a conscience, she wouldn’t think so.

If one were to take all specimens and calculate an average, she might rank in the upper echelon.

Atra didn’t beat people to death out of annoyance, didn’t frequent the shady places indulging in debauchery, didn’t cackle at the sight of people killing and being killed, nor did she belong to the class that mocked and trampled on those dying before her eyes.

But that was a poor excuse. How could one include such vermin in statistics? Those bugs didn’t belong in any data.

Re-evaluating the statistics for a class considered ‘normal’ by Atra’s standards.

Atra was a subpar adult.

She didn’t beat people to death out of annoyance, but she would rough them up if they crossed a line. She didn’t haunt the shady places like they were home, but when stressed, she did resort to herbs like tobacco.

She helped people who were dying before her, but even if she had spare time, she wouldn’t go out of her way to rescue someone far away.

Top-tier Hero.

A position some aspire to for a lifetime, a noble seat of honor held by a grand hero, but to Atra…

It was nothing more than an encumbrance.

She hadn’t ascended to this position with an inherently noble spirit. She just needed the power, and before she knew it, the title was thrust upon her.

‘Haa…’

Her legs halted as she crossed the graves.

She paused her breathing for a moment. Her chest felt constricted. An indescribable pressure weighed down on her heart. If it had been an external attack, she could have shrugged it off, but there was nothing she could do about an internal one.

It was a visit that had become almost a custom over the years. She had grown accustomed to it. Atra knelt and pulled out a bottle of alcohol.

It was expensive, but to Atra’s wealth, the price hardly made a dent.

She placed the bottle carefully beside the gravestone.

Atra didn’t drink often. But her insolent disciple, ironically, had enjoyed the stuff.

Next, she took out a cloth, soaked it in water, and wiped the tombstone. Then, with a dry cloth, she wiped off the moisture.

Years of repetition had made the procedure familiar.

But her fluttering heart never grew accustomed.

After meticulously cleaning the gravestones of her parents as well, Atra stared blankly at her disciple’s grave.

Atra was neither a good adult nor a good teacher.

When she took on her disciple, Atra was a top-tier hero.

There was a considerable difference in skill back then. She could hold her head up in any company, but by her standards, she was woefully lacking.

She also had no talent for teaching. To be frank, her strength came more from innate talent than effort.

The only  education she had received was during her academy days. On the front lines, she had almost no instruction, just learning on her own by watching and copying.

That’s why there were many trials and errors when teaching her disciple.

She lacked both the knack and experience for teaching. As a result, she wasn’t sure if she had taught anything properly.

‘……’

But those were undoubtedly happy times. Ever since her parents died, she had only thought about strength.

Her life, filled with dreary colors, gained a bit of vibrancy when she met her disciple.

So she might have taught with a bit of indulgence.

Even if it was for training, how could she hit a child? She went easy on them.

She indulged in the child’s whining during practice. She didn’t always keep a tight rein and played along with the pranks that came her way.

She had an unfounded confidence that the child would do well. The disciple had more talent than Atra herself and was a bright and energetic presence, spreading laughter and happiness around.

She believed the disciple would become a better person than her teacher.

Teacher and disciple… At least the deepest relationship she had ever formed. A very precious bond.

That bond was severed several years ago. Not by the parties involved but by external interference.

The calamity of the dungeon. That goddamned thing had taken not just her parents but also the disciple who was like family.

The child had lost parents to monsters in childhood, too. Then, having awakened, the child was attending the academy.

Standing at a neglected grave, Atra thought blankly.

This wasn’t a child who should have died. Definitely not a child whose life should have ended this way.

Atra’s disciple had more talent. A child who was always lively and cheerful, bringing smiles and happiness to those around… should not have had such an ending.

A mere grade-four dungeon rampage. With the disciple’s skills, personal safety should have been easily ensured.

But Atra’s disciple vanished without a trace, leaving behind only an arm and scattered flesh.

In despair… and regret.

She mustn’t have taught like that.

She shouldn’t have indulged the whims. She shouldn’t have gone easy for fear of hurting, for wanting to avoid pain.

She should have ensured that the disciple was skilled enough to avoid such calamities, to preserve life regardless of the threat.

It was Atra’s fault. No matter what others said, she blamed herself.

The worst kind of teacher. A wretch who had led her disciple to death.

Unable to bear such thoughts, she returned to the front lines. She unleashed her guilt and loathing on the monsters.

She didn’t care about the concerns of those around her. She just wanted to expend those dark emotions.

The Principal’s request reached her only a few years later… a few months ago, from the present.

‘Lee Hayul…’

An undesired… subject of teaching. She taught reluctantly, but memories of the past would not allow her to be half-hearted.

This time, she taught differently. She didn’t treat Hayul casually. It might have been hard for a child who had just awakened, especially if not a superhuman.

She was strict, aiming to make Hayul strong as quickly and securely as possible.

While  educating Hayul… Seeing the child grimace and cry out in pain, her heart was never at ease, but to avoid repeating the past, she did not stop.

She also tried not to get attached. She would do her best to teach, but one never knows where life will lead. She didn’t want to experience the pain of loss again.

-Ugh…

Maybe she did get a little attached after all.

“Phew…”

A deep sigh escaped her. Given the place, her thoughts were in disarray.

-Ding!

That’s when her smartwatch alarm rang.

[Hayul]

The contact she was just thinking about. Atra opened the hologram with a complex expression.

→ Hayul: Profess… (Now)

The abruptly ended text. She frowned and opened Hayul’s profile.

[Connection Interrupted]

‘…What?’

Connection interrupted. Those words filled Atra’s eyes.

It was strange. A smartwatch connected by the Tower of Harmony, disconnected?

That phenomenon could only occur in dungeons and towers.

Hayul said he was going to a dungeon. He asked if it was okay to go, glancing around hesitantly, and she nodded.

The connection could be interrupted…

But, if it was inside the dungeon, how could he send such a message? And how did the connection get cut off immediately after the message arrived? Why was the text cut off so awkwardly?

A sense of unease.

‘…That can’t be.’

Anxiety.

Atra’s eyes trembled.

Today is the anniversary of her old disciple’s death. The day they left the world.

On such a day, Hayul said he was going to the dungeon. She nodded with a complicated heart at such a coincidence.

On such a day, on the very same day, the same accident happening to the child she was teaching… It made no sense.

-Ding! Ding! Ding!

[At this moment, a dungeon has rampaged without warning in two districts of Shipnaha, Scotland. The isolation of the area is confirmed. Heroes in charge of protection duty in the vicinity are advised to head to the site of the rampage immediately.]

It couldn’t be.