Chapter 4 - 3: Welcome to Class F(ailures)
Alaric's new job as "tactical assistant" came with many vague responsibilities.
Most of them involved being blamed for things he didn't do.
Like now.
"Why are we in a dungeon?" he asked, as the creaky elevator rumbled down beneath the Academy.
Professor Gaelin, holding a glowing map with one hand and a fried mushroom skewer in the other, grunted. "Remedial combat field training. Class A took the top floors already. You get the basement."
"The haunted part?"
"No such thing as ghosts," Gaelin said. "Just mana echoes and poor life choices."
The rest of Class F huddled in the corner of the elevator.
The elf girl yawned loudly. "Do we fight, or can I nap and absorb XP through the air?"
"You need real combat," Gaelin said. "And so does your creepy friend."
Everyone looked at Alaric.