In a far corner, a teacher who had said little so far leaned closer to the same tile. He taught history to students who rolled their eyes on the first day and sat straighter by the third.
He had no rank over combat, but he cared about patterns in longer lines. "Listen," he said to the room as if someone had spoken out of turn.
"That group is beginning to sound like a whole instead of three bright pieces. Hear it? After the boss falls, they do not celebrate or sulk.
They count. They drink. They move. They do not speak to the sky and wake the next test by clapping for themselves."
A younger instructor with new shoes and sharp opinions frowned at another feed. "I do not care for this pair," he said, pointing. "Too careful. They will never make rank at this pace."
Elira glanced at the pair. They were slow on purpose, turning the map into a friend before asking it to carry them.
"They will live," she said. Rank goes up and down. Living persists."
