Rough start...

Back in his dorm, Dilin sprawled face-down on his bed like a deflated balloon, corpse-still.

His teammates had quit. With only a month left until Coleman Academy’s rookie Crown Cup, Dilin didn’t care about rankings—expulsion was the real threat.

That pointy-eared bastard had been right about one thing: as a trash-tier Divine Child with zero teammates, he’d just be cannon fodder on the battlefield. Surviving past the first round would be a miracle.

He needed a new team. More Divine Maidens.

But where would he find them? With his pathetic credentials—even failing to activate the most basic Divine Child skill, 【Soul Communion】—who’d waste their time on him?

Rich Divine Children could bribe temporary allies with cash. Talent gaps filled by fat wallets. Dilin? Broke and weak. The moment his two Divine Maidens left, his team collapsed.

A month? A year wouldn’t fix this. As long as one competent Divine Child remained at the academy, he’d never stand a chance.

This month, he’d need a miracle.

But he couldn’t get expelled.

Coleman Academy was the continent’s academic pinnacle—a hub of revered mentors, cutting-edge knowledge, and elite Divine Maidens. Countless Divine Children and mages clawed their way in. Dilin, a blank-slate Divine Child, had burned through his lifetime luck just to get accepted.

Even now, he couldn’t fathom how he’d slipped through admissions. Divine Children were rare, but a crippled one like him? Not even strays would have him.

After a while, he sat up.

Expulsion meant starvation.

Dilin was practical. He’d become a Divine Child and enrolled at Coleman for one reason:

Money. Big money.

And right now, he desperately needed a sum he could never scrape together.

He’d expected windfalls after enrollment. Instead, he’d wasted a year’s tuition.

This pointy-eared racket of a school didn’t refund dropouts.

*Rustle!*

A soft paper scrap fluttered onto his face, blocking his vision.

“Who throws trash through windows?!” Dilin snatched the flyer off his nose.

Zero professionalism. Slipping flyers under doors was bad enough—but through windows?

He glanced at the text. One line was enough.

Another scammy part-time job pitch, dripping with fake inspiration.

Why distribute these here? Who’d fall for it? Divine Maidens? Divine Children? Mages?

Divine Children had Maidens at their beck and call. Divine Maidens were nobles’ heirs—rolling in cash. Mages? They bought their status alongside Divine powers. No one here needed pennies.

(To clarify: “Divine Maiden” and “Divine Child” were gender-neutral titles. Male Maidens and female Children existed.)

*“Official Academy Part-Time Job: 1,000,000 Gold Coins Upon Arrival..............”*

Tch. Liars didn’t even try anymore. Slapping a “4-” before that number might’ve made it *slightly* believable.

Just slightly.

He was about to toss it out the window when he froze—snatching it back.

In the bottom corner: a seal. A silver crescent moon, veiled in mist.

Coleman Academy’s official insignia. The exact shade he’d seen on his acceptance letter. Divine Right-infused seals couldn’t be faked.

But how?

An official Academy job... advertised via flyer? They’d post it at the Quest Hall with fat bounties. Divine Children and Maidens would swarm it.

The flyer was written in Elvish script, with human-language annotations below.

After triple-checking the seal’s authenticity, Dilin hesitated.

If genuine, this was credible.

But what job paid *that* much? The number looked slapped on—a ridiculous figure designed to hook the desperate.

Normally, he’d ignore such a suspicious flyer. But desperation changed things.

He was broke.

*Should I go?*

Dilin couldn’t resist. Suspicious or not, he had no options.

The official seal suggested legitimacy.

Would the Academy target him? Ridiculous. Coleman’s influence spanned academia, noble families, and Divine Maidens. Rumor said even the Elf King backed it. Why waste resources on a nobody?

Proud Elves wouldn’t stoop this low. And if they wanted him gone? He’d have vanished without a trace already.

*So... go?*

The flyer listed a location: Coleman Forest, on Coleman City’s outskirts.

Why there?

Coleman Forest bordered Rugrien—a death zone crawling with monsters. Why meet *there*?

The time? Tonight.

Dilin didn’t hesitate. Once decided, he never second-guessed.

Even if this flyer was a trap, he’d take that one-in-ten-thousand chance it was real.