Thankfully, the hellish "light exercise" session—courtesy of our ever-energetic protagonist—was finally over.
I survived.
Barely.
Now, it was time for my next class.
To my surprise, I was actually feeling okay.
My legs weren’t shaking like jelly anymore, and my breathing had more or less returned to normal. All thanks to Professor Lena, of course. She was the one who handed me that glorious bottle of cold water and, more importantly, told me to take a break while the others finished their laps.
So yeah—compared to earlier, I was in much better shape.
And hey, good news for me: my next class just so happens to be with my homeroom teacher... who is, conveniently, Professor Lena herself.
After that death march of a jog, she actually offered me the option to skip class.
Yes. You heard that right.
A professor. At this academy. Told me I could skip class.
With a straight face, she looked at me and said, "You can sit this one out if you’re still feeling unwell."
I nearly cried.
Seriously, I almost hugged her on the spot.
No professor ever says that—not here. Most of them would just scoff, throw some motivational quote at you, and expect you to power through like a half-dead war hero.
But Lena?
"Your health comes first," she said.
If I didn’t already respect her, I would’ve started right then and there.
Honestly, I would’ve taken her up on the offer. But the truth is, I can’t afford to slack off. I need to get stronger, fast.
Besides, I’m not the type to skip class. (Yes, you reading this—you would’ve bunked it. Not me.)
So, dragging my slightly-recovered body and what remained of my dignity, I headed toward the academy’s training room, hoping the rest of the day wouldn’t try to kill me again.
But knowing my luck?
It probably would.
Still, part of me hoped for the best.
A few minutes later, I arrived at the training room where the class was being held. Most of the students were already there, standing around and chatting casually. I was the last one to show up, but thankfully, class hadn’t started yet.
Everyone seemed to be waiting for Professor Lena, who hadn’t arrived yet.
And then—right on cue—she walked in.
"Hello," she greeted with her usual calm energy. "I see a few students from my homeroom class here as well. I’m Professor Lena, and I’ll be teaching Basic Hand-to-Hand Combat."
This was the first time I’d seen her dressed like this.
Up until now, Professor Lena always wore crisp, suit-like attire—very formal, very professional. But today, because of the combat class, she had changed into fitted training clothes.
Let’s just say the change didn’t go unnoticed.
Most of the male students’ eyes immediately locked onto her chest—which, to be fair, had already been hard to ignore even in her usual suits. But now?
It was a battlefield out here, and none of them had the willpower to look away.
Naturally, I wasn’t one of them.
The last thing I wanted was to do something that might lower her impression of me. Especially after she just saved my life with a water bottle and a kind word.
Professor Lena, however, seemed completely oblivious. She glanced around the room and smiled, looking genuinely pleased.
She probably thought all those sparkling eyes were filled with passion for learning.
sigh.
Interpreting people too positively was both her greatest strength—and maybe her biggest weakness.
"Everyone’s eyes are full of passion," Professor Lena said with a warm smile. "Admiring strength is an important quality in a hero. It shows you’re in the right mindset."
I let out another sigh.
Yeah, sure, Lena. Let’s go with that.
I turned my head away from her for a moment and glanced around. As expected, Ryen wasn’t here.
So he’s skipping this class, huh? Well I already know since in the novel he didn’t take hand to hand basic combat class.
Well as for me—old Rin—already applied for major course of Hero classe.
So even if I had skipped today I still had to attend tomorrow.
I wasn’t sure whether this course was worth attending... aside from the obvious appeal of having a hot professor.
Honestly, I was kind of worried Lena would go off on some old martial arts novel tangent—talking about how ’barehanded strength is the foundation of all power,’ or how ’martial training is the ultimate truth of the world.’
But thankfully, she didn’t start preaching or make us meditate under waterfalls or anything.
Looking at all of us, Lena’s tone shifted as she officially began the class.
"Some of you might be thinking, ’Isn’t hand-to-hand combat useless if my talent doesn’t focus on it?’"
Her voice was calm but confident.
"I’ll tell you right now—that’s not true. Even if your focus is on weapons, learning unarmed techniques gives you an edge. Sure, if you use a sword, swordsmanship is your bread and butter. If you use a spear, you’ll rely on spearmanship. But hand-to-hand combat is a solid backup. It can save your life when your weapon’s knocked away or when you’re too close to use it properly. And of course, if your talent is in unarmed combat, this training is absolutely essential."
To drive the point home, she tapped her bracelet, and a hologram flickered to life in front of us.
The video showed two heroes in a heated duel—both of them sword wielders.
"As you can see here," Lena narrated, "both fighters are evenly matched with their swords. Their techniques are almost identical."
Then came the turning point.
During a blade lock, just when it seemed like neither side would budge, the hero loosened his grip slightly and shifted his stance—then landed a sharp low kick to the villain’s shin. The villain stumbled, losing balance, and the hero capitalized on that moment with a clean strike.
Lena nodded at the screen.
"This is where technique outside of your primary weapon makes the difference. A simple kick. Just enough to break posture, disrupt rhythm, and open a chance."
She looked at us again, her expression calm but firm.
"You don’t need to become a master of every style. But if you want to survive real combat, having more than one way to fight will always be an advantage."
I had to admit... that actually made sense.
And, well, it was better than running laps after lunch.