In a remote part of the world, where clouds piled over towering rocky peaks and dense forests stretched endlessly like an ancient green sea, the wind howled through deep ravines, carrying the scent of damp earth and biting cold.
Amid these rugged terrains, there was a small camp—a mere handful of scattered tents surrounding a flickering fire, casting long shadows over four individuals sitting in comfortable silence, exchanging glances without speaking much.
But this silence did not last long.
"Ah… damn it, my whole body hurts!"
A muffled groan broke through the crackling fire and the howling wind. Nivalis lay sprawled on the ground, his face tilted upward as he stared at the cloudy sky. His muscles screamed in protest, every bone in his body feeling as if it had been trampled by a massive beast.
A light chuckle echoed nearby before a familiar voice responded with clear amusement:
"Hahaha, at least you can move now. Not like the first day when you were just a sack of meat lying on the ground."
Nivalis shifted his head slightly to glance at Felix, the red-haired troublemaker sitting nearby, leaning against a tree trunk with a playful smirk on his face.
Slowly, Nivalis raised a trembling finger toward him and muttered in an exhausted tone:
"Shut up… just shut up."
Felix raised his hands in surrender but did not erase the grin from his face.
"Alright, alright, but you have to admit… Grave performed a miracle getting you back on your feet in just two weeks."
Nivalis could only sigh as he recalled the past few weeks.
It had been two weeks since Lina had brought him into her team, and they had been nothing short of hell for him—or more accurately, for his body.
Nivalis turned his gaze toward the man responsible for his agonizing suffering.
He was a massive man, almost like a walking fortress. Standing over two meters tall, his muscles were carved as if sculpted from stone.
His broad shoulders and massive arms made smashing boulders look like a mere pastime. His face bore countless scars, each telling a tale of relentless battles, yet his eyes held a strange calmness, as if they belonged to a different man entirely.
His short, rough hair and unkempt beard gave him the look of a warrior who had spent more time on the battlefield than among people. He wore heavy armor that seemed as if it had been torn from a fallen fortress, and beside him rested a colossal shield—one he could use as both an impenetrable defense and a deadly weapon.
This was Grave, the main fighter and defender of the team—the man responsible for torturing Nivalis' muscles and joints every day until he felt like his body would collapse.
To anyone seeing him for the first time, Grave resembled a living nightmare—a man who devoured children for breakfast and crushed monsters with his bare hands. When Nivalis first met him and learned that he would be his trainer, a shiver ran down his spine.
But after only two days, he realized that appearances could be deceiving.
Despite his brutal training methods, Grave was kind-hearted, driven only by a genuine desire to make Nivalis stronger.
Nivalis sighed, feeling a newfound respect for the terrifying giant.
His eyes then moved toward another figure who spoke in a loud and energetic voice.
Felix—the fire mage and the most annoyingly active person on the team.
A young man in his early twenties, tall and lean, yet his movements were swift and brimming with energy. His messy red hair flared like fire, and his eyes burned with an enthusiasm that made Nivalis feel like he was always on the verge of either a battle… or a prank.
He wore red and black clothing adorned with flame-like patterns at the edges, and a faint aura of heat constantly surrounded him, making him appear as if he were walking amidst a blazing inferno.
To Nivalis, Felix was one of the most irritating people he had ever met, especially after his sarcastic remark when they first met:
"Oh, another little one joining the team? Are you sure he's not lost?"
At that moment, Nivalis had been ready to punch him in the face—if not for Lina, who had held him back.
But over time, he realized that Felix never meant any harm; it was simply part of his playful and impulsive nature.
Nivalis then turned his gaze toward another member of the team.
Celeste—the archer and wind mage prodigy.
A young woman in her mid-twenties, possessing a slender, agile physique that reflected her prowess in archery and her affinity with wind magic. Her long silver hair flowed gracefully with the breeze, and her sharp green eyes, reminiscent of a vigilant hawk, gleamed with confidence and intelligence.
She moved as if she were one with the wind itself, her footsteps barely audible, her smile always carrying a mix of challenge and amusement.
She wore light armor covering strategic parts of her body, allowing for swift movements, with a dark green cloak that rippled with the wind. In her hands, she held an elegant bow crafted from sturdy wood, engraved with patterns symbolizing her bond with the wind, while her quiver was filled with silver-feathered arrows.
She was Nivalis' instructor in wind magic and had quickly proven herself to be a genius in its use. She was so enthusiastic about his training that she even insisted on teaching him archery—despite him being a swordsman.
Nivalis then shifted his gaze to the next person—the second youngest member of the team.
Mira—the team's secondary healer and water mage.
She had wavy blue hair that cascaded smoothly around her shoulders and deep ocean-blue eyes that reflected both serenity and mystery. Her attire was both elegant and practical, in shades of blue and silver, making her resemble a priestess of water rather than a mercenary mage.
She was the quietest member of the team, with a slightly childish personality despite her age. Her gentle demeanor and calming presence made Nivalis feel at ease around her.
Finally, he turned to the last person in the camp—the leader of the team and his other hellish teacher.
Lina—the captain.
This team was quite small compared to other mercenary groups, but they made up for it with the overwhelming strength of each individual member. That was no surprise, considering they were the third strongest mercenary team on the continent.
What surprised Nivalis, however, was not their strength—but their team's name.
He had expected a fearsome name befitting their reputation, something that would strike terror into the hearts of their enemies.
Instead…
He placed a hand over his face as he recalled the name again:
"The Naughty cats."
...
"What the hell, why?"
But the answer was painfully clear—because their captain was obsessed with cats.
Nivalis let out a deep sigh, resigning himself to his new reality.
As the camp settled into silence, he felt someone approaching him. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Lina, their leader, staring at him with her piercing gaze.
"Enjoy your rest tonight, Nivalis."
He raised an eyebrow in suspicion before asking:
"Why do I feel like trouble is coming?"
Lina smirked and replied coolly:
"Because tomorrow at dawn, we're heading out on a real mission."
A chill ran down Nivalis' spine.
"Well…It looks like the rest is over."
He looked up at the dark sky and took a deep breath.
His training phase was over—it was time to face the real world.