As the teacher droned on about the cataclysm—how our world was torn apart a century ago by sudden explosions similar to nuclear bombs that birthed monsters, dungeons, and castles—the words started to blend into a dull murmur. I was the one who wrote this before and the repetition made it difficult to keep my focus.
"Cataclysm. A hundred years ago, sudden explosions shook the world as monsters, beasts, dungeons, and castles began appearing in all corners of the world," the teacher emphasized, his voice echoing around the classroom.
I sat back in my chair, sketching absent-mindedly in the margin of my notebook. The images of towering castles, caves, dungeons, monsters, and beasts filled my mind, but boredom seeped in like a thick fog.
"With the appearance of monsters and beasts, they went on a killing spree almost wiping out the human population while dungeons and castles continuously spawned those monsters," the teacher continued, passion igniting his tone. "Ordinary weapons, science, and even technology are no match for them. The law that was known to mankind fell away, devolving into a brutal law of the jungle."
I glanced around the classroom, noticing some of my classmates squirming in their seats, while jotting down notes.
"Chaos continued to reign until a group of people suddenly emerged from nowhere," the teacher said, his voice rising with enthusiasm. "These individuals wielded extraordinary power and abilities that surpassed those of mere mortals. They fought back against the monsters, beasts, and even some of the demon lords until the latter had no choice but to retreat. Just as swiftly as our world fell into ruin, it was reconstructed."
He paused for effect, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "They were called Heroes," he continued, igniting the flames of fascination among some students. "Using gifts bestowed by the heavens, they brought miracles to our world. To become a Hero, one must possess either two qualities: one is hereditary, passed down through generations—and the other, a Gift granted by the deities above."
While my interest waned, I occupied myself by observing the room. I watched the main and side characters: Ezekiel, Cypher, and Whitney had their eyes glued to the professor, diligently taking notes as if their futures depended on it. Edge was boredly listening, while Rex was fully asleep, his head resting against the desk. Angela who is next to Cypher kept scratching her head, a mixture of confusion and annoyance etched across her face.
Among the rest of them, Angela was the only one who is slow on academic but excels in combat. That is why the top spot for female cadets is Whitney Owen.
The bell rang at 10:30, signaling the end of history class. Students began to stir, shuffling their things and preparing to leave.
"Make sure that you listened and took down notes today! I don't want someone crying on the day of the exam," the teacher called out as he exited, his voice trailing behind him.
As soon as the professor left, Angela and the others erupted into a chorus of complaints. "Why does it always have to be about the exams?" Angela groaned, tossing her notebook into her bag with frustration. "Who cares if we pass history when we're gonna be fighting monsters soon?" Thıs content belongs to 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✦𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖✦𝕟𝕖𝕥
Edge shrugged, his expression nonchalant as he leaned back in his chair. "If I can dodge a fireball, I don't think I'll need to remember what happened a hundred years ago."
But then, as if a switch had flipped, the complaints melted away as excitement brewed in the air.
"Sir Jude said we're meeting at the novice field in 15 minutes! Change into your training uniform!" a tall man yelled, his oval face lighting up with enthusiasm.
It was Christian George, the class president and die-hard fan of Cypher. His gentle eyes sparkled with eagerness, and he couldn't contain his excitement about the upcoming training session.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
After 15 minutes, we were all gathered on the novice field, an expanse filled with grassy patches, training dummies, and makeshift obstacle courses. With all 200 students assembled, it felt almost overcrowded. Conversations flared up around me as groups of friends laughed and traded jokes with each other.
As I stood at the edge of the crowd, I couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation wash over me. While my classmates were lost in their conversations, I was the only one without anyone to talk to. A knot twisted in my stomach as I fiddled with the hem of my training uniform, glancing at the vibrant scene around me.
I can't help but to mentally hum "I'm So Lonely," the irony of my situation making me chuckle softly to myself. Just as I was lost in thoughts about the perfect lyrics to express my mood, the commanding voice of Sir Jude broke through my reverie.
"I'm sure all of you know what this class is all about," he began, scanning the crowd with piercing eyes. "Let's skip the lengthy explanations and get right to the point—today, I will announce the teams." He paused for effect, and I felt a flutter of apprehension in my stomach. "Each team will consist of five members. The teams I'm announcing are permanent until after the next semester."
A team usually consists of five members. A fighter, mage, marksman, support, tank, assassin or even be flexible. You can choose one of those as your role in the team as long as it fits the weapon and ability you're good at.
My role is either I'm an assassin or a close ranged fighter.
The atmosphere shifted as a massive holographic screen flickered to life above the novice field, casting a brilliant glow over the students below. Everyone's gaze was drawn upward, excitement buzzing through the air as the screen displayed the rankings and categories of each student.
"Support... Marksmen... Tank... Ah, there it is," I muttered under my breath, spotting my name on the list:
Rank 18 Christian George
Rank 643 Claude Monet
Rank 925 Remillia Lockhart