[The Morning After]

[Location: Class F Dormitory – Alaric's Room]

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The alarm clock on the bedside table screamed, signalling 6:00 AM.

Alaric groaned. His body felt wonderfully, terrifyingly heavy.

It was the sensation of sleeping under a weighted blanket made of lead.

He reached out a hand to silence the alarm, not even opening his eyes.

CRUNCH.

Alaric's eyes snapped open.

The alarm clock was gone. In its place was a flat, sparking pancake of gears and springs embedded an inch deep into the wood of the nightstand.

"Oh no," Alaric whispered.

He sat up. The bedframe groaned ominously.

He looked at the corner of the room. Leaning against the wall was his trusty iron sword.

Or rather, what was left of it. It was bent at a forty-five-degree angle, the metal stressed and cracked from the fight with the Boar. It was useless.

Next to it sat a standard-issue Wooden Practice Sword he had borrowed from the gym.

"I need a real weapon," Alaric muttered, picking up the wooden sword, unknowingly gripping the handle.

CRAAACK.

The wood splintered instantly under his grip.

Alaric stared at the sawdust in his hand. He looked ready to cry.

"I really need a stronger weapon," he corrected miserably. "Otherwise, I'm going to be fighting with tree trunks."

….............…

[Location: The Academy Cafeteria]

The cafeteria was bustling. Students from Classes C through A were gossiping about their weekend hunts.

When Class F walked in, the chatter died.

Alaric walked stiffly, focusing every ounce of willpower on not cracking the floor tiles.

He was carrying a metal tray with two fingers, treating it like it was made of soap bubbles.

They sat at their usual table.

"How was your morning?" Lukas asked, looking exhausted. Dark circles rimmed his eyes.

"I destroyed my alarm clock," Alaric said. "And my practice sword. And my doorknob."

"I scorched my pillow," Lukas admitted, rubbing his face.

"I had a nightmare about those void bastards. When I woke up, my hands were burning blue."

"Blue?" Elena asked, sipping her tea. "That's high-concentration combustion. It requires immense control."

"It's not control," Lukas whispered, looking at his shaking hand.

"It's stress. Ever since the raid, my core feels... tight. Like it's vibrating at a higher frequency. I can't turn it down."

"Here," Alaric said, trying to be helpful. "Drink some tea. It helps."

Lukas reached for the cup. "It's cold. Let me just warm it up. Just a spark."

Lukas pointed a finger. He tried to summon a candle-sized flame.

'Just a little heat,' Lukas thought.

FWOOSH.

A jet of blue flame, sounding like a blowtorch, erupted from his finger.

It vaporised the liquid instantly.

It melted the ceramic cup into slag and scorched a black hole through the cafeteria table.

Silence descended on the cafeteria.

Smoke rose from the ruined table.

"He's got a flamethrower finger!" a student screamed.

Lukas stared at his hand, horrified. "I... I barely used any mana! It just jumped out!"

Alaric sighed, dropping his forehead onto the table (carefully).

"We are in so much trouble," Alaric concluded.

Afterwards, they quickly ate what little food they could salvage and headed for class

…........................

[Location: Class F Classroom]

Class F arrived at their homeroom, hoping for a quiet day of theory.

They didn't get it.

Sitting on the teacher's desk was a girl.

She wore the pristine uniform of Class A.

She had pale blonde hair, arrogant blue eyes, and she was tossing a glowing purple stone in the air.

Elara. The Summoning Prodigy of the First Year.

"So," Elara smirked, looking down at them.

"This is the famous 'Hydra Squad'? You guys look like garbage."

"Get off the Professor's desk," Alaric said calmly.

"He doesn't like people touching his things."

"I'm just testing the rumors," Elara said. She hopped off the desk. "They say you survived a Hydra in Sector 1. I say you lied."

She raised her hand. A small, black rune flared on her palm.

[Summon: Lesser Void Imp].

A tear in reality opened in the middle of the classroom. A creature the size of a dog, with bat wings and glowing red eyes, screeched into existence.

It drooled acid onto the floorboards.

Elena gasped.

"A Void creature? Here? The Academy wards should have incinerated it instantly!"

"They would have," Elara laughed, holding up the glowing purple stone she had been tossing.

"If I wasn't holding a Silent Bell. It masks the signature. Daddy bought it for me."

"Attack them," Elara ordered the Imp.

The Imp shrieked and lunged at Lukas.

Lukas panicked. He raised his hand. "Don't come closer! I'll—"

BLUE FLAME.

Lukas fired a panic-shot. The blue fire missed the Imp by an inch, blowing a hole in the chalkboard and singing Elara's eyebrows.

"Hey! Watch it!" Elara shrieked.

The Imp then turned toward Alaric. It bared its fangs and leaped for his throat.

Alaric didn't panic. Compared to the 6th Order Monster in the lab, this thing looked like a plush toy.

Instantly he swatted it.

Just ;ike swatting a mosquito.

SPLAT.

Alaric's backhand connected with the Imp mid-air.

There was no fight. The kinetic force of the Titan's Capacitor turned the Imp into a smear of black paste instantly.

It splattered across the floor, the walls, and Elara's pristine uniform.

Elara stood there, covered in Void guts, her mouth open.

"My..." Elara trembled. "My Imp... that was a second order summon..."

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Mozart stood in the doorway, leaning on his cane.

"Excellent reflexes, Mr. Ironheart," Mozart said smoothly. "Terrible cleanup, though."

He walked into the room, ignoring the stunned Elara. He plucked the Silent Bell from her shaking hand.

"A Class B concealment artifact," Mozart noted, inspecting it.

"Illegal on campus. Confiscated."

"You... you can't!" Elara stammered, wiping slime off her face. "My father is Duke Vane! I'll report you!"

"Go ahead," Mozart smiled beneath his mask.

"Tell the Headmistress you smuggled a Void Beast into a classroom. I'm sure she will be thrilled."

Elara paled. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the room, looking like a humiliated ghost.

Mozart turned to his class.

"Take your seats. Try not to slip on the demon guts."

He walked to the podium.

"Professor," Elena asked, eyeing the smear on the wall.

"Are we not going to report her? She bypassed the security wards."

"The wards are old," Mozart dismissed (a lie; he knew the wards were fine, but the artifact was dangerous). "And Elara just did me a favor."

"She tried to kill us!" Lukas squeaked.

"She proved a point," Mozart corrected. "You reacted but you all were still to weak."

He dropped a gold flyer onto Alaric's desk, right next to the broken door handle.

[The 50th Annual Rookie King Tournament]

[Grand Prize: Audience with the Emperor & Royal Treasury Access]

"Mr. Ironheart," Mozart said.

"You just turned a monster into paste with your bare hand. Imagine what you could do with a weapon that doesn't break."

Alaric looked at the flyer. He looked at the sawdust of the wooden sword on the floor.

"The Treasury," Alaric whispered. "They have Indestructible Arms?"

"The best in the world," Mozart promised. "But to get them, you have to win."

He pointed at the door where Elara had fled.

"That girl is in Class A. Prince Nero is in Class S. They have better gear, better mana, and better artifacts."

Mozart leaned forward.

"But you guys have me."

"Class F," Mozart announced. "Training starts now. Your objective is simple: Crush those snobby bastards."

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