Rolin forced a shaky smile—thin, frightened, almost honest in its confusion.
"I… yesterday… I saw a dream. A woman… she was… awful. But beautiful. So I remembered her and said… a graceful wretch."
Selen stared at him.
Her ashen-gray eyes were like snow watching a fire burn. She said nothing at first. The silence stretched—long, deliberate—then she spoke, her voice cold as forged steel.
"…You dare describe someone like that… in front of everyone?"
A knot tightened in Rolin's throat. He tried to smile again, but his lips betrayed him, trembling.
"I—I'm sorry… I didn't mean— I truly didn't mean—"
Inside him, Likath hissed sharply:
"…What did you just do? That was spectacularly stupid, genius."
Shut up. You're the one who got me into this, Rolin snapped back internally.
Selen kept watching him, her gaze revealing nothing but a deep, unreadable stillness—as if she were weighing every word before passing judgment.
Kyle stepped forward.
One step only—but it was enough.
He stood like a mountain, posture firm, blue eyes sharp with caution.
"Stop there."
Selen halted. She raised an eyebrow slightly and looked at him as though he were no more than a minor inconvenience in her path.
Rolin's heart began to race. He couldn't tell whether he felt relieved… or terrified.
Kyle turned his head just enough to whisper sharply at Rolin:
"Stay calm. Don't move. Don't speak."
Then he faced Selen again, his voice steady—yet edged with warning.
"Don't come any closer to him."
The air thickened, as if the room itself had grown heavier.
Likath snickered inside Rolin:
'Wow… she's definitely not ordinary. And congratulations—you're about to trigger a double disaster.'
Selen didn't retreat. She stood her ground, silent, staring him down—challenging him without a single word.
Kyle remained between them.
The only wall standing between an approaching storm…
and whatever damage might befall Rolin.
Rolin hurriedly filled out the form, then headed to Geography and Survival Studies. He completed another paper—and left, abandoning the tension behind him.
---
Two days later.
Classes finally began.
Eight in the morning.
The air was cold, and the university awoke to overlapping footsteps and rising voices.
Rolin walked toward the Combat Class, a faint nausea twisting in his stomach.
Not because of training.
Because of memory.
Selen.
His classmate.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
It's fine… it's fine…
Then he remembered the one positive thing.
Kyle was in the same class.
"…Okay. That helps. A little."
But the moment his eyes landed on Kyle, his chest tightened for no clear reason.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Irritatingly handsome.
He moved with effortless confidence, as if the world had been built to accommodate his stride.
Rolin clenched his fist.
"Damn it…"
Something sticky crept into his chest.
Uncomfortable.
Unjustified.
Then a word surfaced in his mind.
Jealousy.
Rolin stopped dead.
He stared into empty space as if struck by an invisible slap.
Jealousy… what?!
He shook his head violently.
Impossible. Me? Jealous of that bastard?
He looked at Kyle again—then quickly at Selen, standing nearby, calm and distant, as if nothing between them had ever happened.
He swallowed.
"No. No. This isn't jealousy."
Then muttered as he continued walking:
"It's just… philosophical irritation at the unfairness of the world."
A quiet, mocking laugh echoed in his head.
'Call it whatever you want… class is starting,'
'…and you're about to become either a punching bag or a cautionary tale.'
Rolin stopped at the door of the Combat Hall.
Squared his shoulders.
"So be it…"
And stepped inside.
Unaware that this day would mark the beginning of something irritating… long…
and possibly dangerous.
Likath chuckled softly within him, like a spectator settling in for a comedy show rather than a combat lesson.
Minutes dragged by—heavy with whispers and judgmental glances.
Then—
The door opened.
Silence fell.
The professor entered.
He was tall.
No—taller than he had any right to be.
His body was a masterpiece of hardened muscle, not showy, but refined through years of real combat. Short black hair, practical. Brown eyes—cold, belonging to someone who had seen blood too often to be impressed by it.
His skin was slightly pale, adding to his severity.
A white-and-red jacket bearing the university crest. Simple black trousers.
Nothing excessive. Nothing useless.
He walked to the center of the hall, each step enough to crush the last whisper.
He stopped.
Looked at the students one by one—not with his eyes alone, but with experience.
Then spoke, his voice deep and even.
"Welcome."
A pause.
"I am Professor Kainos."
Another silence.
"I am responsible for this class."
A chill ran down Rolin's spine.
This man was no mere instructor.
Likath whispered—without his usual mockery:
'Hmm… this one's dangerous.'
Rolin clenched his fist unconsciously.
Kainos scanned the room again.
Paused at broad shoulders.
At confident stances.
At those who had turned their bodies into weapons.
Then said neutrally:
"It seems some of you possess good physical builds."
A ripple of whispers followed. Some stood taller. Others smiled, as if already praised.
Kainos' gaze stopped.
On Rolin.
One second. Two.
Then moved on—without comment.
A sharp sting pierced Rolin's chest.
Not an insult.
Worse.
Likath laughed softly:
'Didn't even mention you. Hurts, doesn't it?'
Rolin gritted his teeth.
Kainos continued, his tone sharpening.
"But don't celebrate."
"The body is merely a tool."
A pause.
"And those who don't know how to use a tool…"
A cold smile appeared.
"…will be broken by it."
Silence.
Heavy. Absolute.
Then Kainos' eyes settled on Kyle—and he smiled.
"You must be the student Hell itself talks about. The one who survived the Eirthy Mountains. Well done."
Kyle looked at him, then shook his head, refusing the praise.
He extended his arm.
Pointing at Rolin.
Kainos froze.
Kyle's finger remained steady.
Pointing clearly.
At Rolin.
Short. Thin. Pale.
Kainos' smile vanished.
His gaze slid—slowly—until it locked onto Rolin.
"One… two seconds."
Then, low and testing:
"This one?"
Laughter broke out.
"He killed a corrupted beast?"
"Are you serious?"
"Maybe the beast was sick."
Heat rushed to Rolin's ears.
Likath stretched luxuriously:
'Ah… I adore these moments. Contempt, denial—delicious.'
Shut up, Rolin hissed internally.
Kainos didn't laugh.
Didn't scowl.
He took one step forward.
"Student."
Kyle answered.
"Yes, Professor."
"Are you mocking me?"
"No."
Kyle turned to Rolin and clapped his shoulder—friendly, but nearly enough to knock him over.
"He did it."
The whispers changed.
Confusion replaced ridicule.
Kainos crossed his arms.
"Very well."
He looked at Rolin.
"What's your name?"
"…Rolin Azir."
"Azir."
Rolin jolted.
"Y-Yes?"
"Step forward."
Each step felt heavier than the last. Hundreds of eyes tore into him.
Likath purred:
'Break them mentally first. Then physically. Classic.'
Rolin stopped at the center.
Kainos leaned down to his level and murmured:
"If you're lying…"
A cold smile.
"…you'll wish you were never born."
Then straightened.
"And if you're telling the truth…"
Silence fell.
"This class may become very interesting."
Why does everyone I meet either want to kill me or humiliate me?! Rolin screamed internally.
Likath laughed darkly:
'Welcome to academic life, hero.'
Kainos clapped once.
Clap!
"Today is not for introductions."
"Today is for testing."
Whispers erupted.
"Testing? On the first day?!"
Kainos ignored them and looked straight at Rolin.
"Azir. If you are as this young man claims—"
He nodded at Kyle.
"—then show me."
Rolin's eyes widened.
"Now?!"
Kainos smiled.
Not a teacher's smile.
A hunter's.
"Yes. Now."
He pointed to a student in the back.
A massive boy, arms like tree trunks.
"You. Step forward."
The student cracked his neck, grinning.
"Don't worry, Professor. I'll be gentle."
Laughter spread.
Rolin's stomach tightened.
Likath was thrilled:
'Ah, the classics. Giant versus weakling.'
Not now, Rolin warned.
Kainos raised a hand.
"Rules."
"One—no killing."
"Two—no external energy."
Then, staring at Rolin:
"And you… if you fall, it ends."
Rolin nodded slowly.
"Understood."
They cleared the space.
The opponent loomed over him.
"Want me to end it quickly?"
Rolin didn't answer.
He closed his eyes.
Calm.
Not bravery.
The calm of someone used to surviving by inches.
He opened them.
Something changed.
Kyle noticed.
Selen noticed.
Even Kainos raised an eyebrow.
No aura.
No power.
Just a look.
The look of someone who fights not to win…
but to live.
"Begin," Kainos said.
The giant charged first—
a massive fist tearing through the air.
Rolin stepped aside.
Not fast.
Perfect.
As if he'd already seen it coming.
The punch missed by a breath.
Rolin moved in.
Close.
Too close.
Two fingers pressed beneath the collarbone.
A dry strike.
The giant gasped.
His legs buckled.
He collapsed, air gone.
Silence.
Seconds passed.
"What happened?!"
"Is it over?"
"I didn't see anything!"
Kainos stepped forward, eyes no longer cold.
They were shining.
"…Interesting."
He addressed the class.
"Change your judgments. Quickly."
Then looked at Rolin and smiled—genuinely.
"Azir… you are not a tool."
A pause.
"You are a weapon."
Likath laughed slowly, darkly satisfied.
'See?'
'Told you this class would be fun.'
Rolin felt no triumph.
Only something worse.
Attention.
And attention…
in this place…
Was dangerous.