It went without saying—Velcrest Academy was basically a gathering spot for superhumans.
The top of the food chain. The place where kids dreamed of becoming heroes. Capes, spotlights, saving the world—y’know, the works.
But at the end of the day, no matter how many powers you slapped on them, they were still just teenagers.
Immature, loud, insecure, and desperate to prove something.
And when you tossed all that into one building?
Yeah. Chaos.
First-years were the worst. Always trying to play king of the hill before the semester even properly started. Barking louder than they could bite, flexing powers like toys.
Now, bullying? Not exactly. At least, not yet. No one’s throwing fists or shoving people into lockers.
Most of it was passive-aggressive.
Snide comments during training.
Little pranks in the hallway.
Laughter behind your back.
Paper balls to the head during lectures.
Annoying? Yeah.
Unbearable? Not quite.
Not enough to consider homicide.
...Not that I could manage that yet anyway.
Still, I figured it was best to keep my head down. Be the "bigger person." I liked to think I had a slightly more mature mindset than most of them.
That was the plan.
Until today.
Smack—!
The tray jostled violently in my hands. My drink nearly tipped, and rice spilled across the floor.
Dead silence followed.
For two seconds.
Then came the laughter.
"Oh—damn, my bad!" The guy behind me grinned like a jackass. "Thought you were my friend. Just trying to mess with him a little. Totally didn’t see you there."
Right.
And I’m the Pope.
My jaw clenched as I turned slowly. Hands balled into fists before I even realized it.
"The fuck—?"
"Hey!" Leona’s voice cracked like a whip before I could say anything. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?"
Ryen stood beside her, face unreadable but eyes cold. "You call that a joke?"
The guy just shrugged, still grinning. His buddies flanked him, all casual arrogance and fake innocence.
"Relax, we said sorry."
"Yeah, man, it was just an accident."
"Oh, come on," one of them added, still smirking. "You’re really gonna act like this over some rice? We’ll pay for lunch, alright? Chill."
"Totally. Save your energy for training or—hell, therapy."
Leona’s expression didn’t budge, but her glare could’ve lit them on fire.
Ryen’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to clock someone.
But they just kept smiling.
Like they were in control.
Like this was funny.
Like I was the joke.
...Big mistake.
They weren’t pissing off just me anymore.
Ryen didn’t like violence. He avoided it whenever he could. But if this kept going, I could already see it—he’d snap. And when he did, someone was going to leave on a stretcher.
Leona? She already had a distaste for men, and these guys were pushing her limits. Her fingers were twitching near her waist, like she was mentally measuring where to aim the cut.
And pink-hair? The yandere was probably taking mental notes on how to make their deaths look like accidents. Because to her, insulting me was meant nothing to her—but insulting Ryen, who stood up for me? Yeah. Unforgivable.
As for me?
I took a deep breath and smiled.
Not kindly.
"Yeah... mistakes happen."
They blinked at that, caught off guard. One of them laughed nervously.
"See? Even he gets it. Our little loser’s got sensitive ears, but he’s reasonable."
I tilted my head slightly, my voice smooth and low.
"Ryen, don’t get mad at someone who’s blind and can’t tell the difference between me and his ’friend.’ He’s already struggling."
The guy’s smile froze for a second.
I kept going.
"And Leon, don’t glare at a beggar just trying to scrounge together some lunch. He can’t afford a proper meal ticket. We should be kinder to the less fortunate."
His friend shifted uncomfortably. The grins were starting to crack.
"I mean... look at them. They’ve clearly suffered enough. Bad taste, bad timing, bad parenting. They didn’t even develop common sense."
By now, the whole cafeteria had quieted.
All eyes on us.
On me.
Leona blinked, then raised a hand to her mouth, trying—but failing—to hide her smirk behind her sleeve. Ryen just gave me this look—eyebrows raised like he couldn’t believe I’d actually said that out loud.
The guy who’d "accidentally" smack me earlier?
Yeah. His face turned red like a tomato left out in the sun too long. He was still fumbling for a comeback, trying to pretend like it hadn’t landed.
But I wasn’t done.
These guys had no idea what kind of verbal warfare they’d just stepped into.
They thought this was new territory.
Please.
I’ve been in more online arguments than any of them have had hot dinners. I was already flaming people on forums when these clowns were probably still chewing on their pencils in grade school. Back then, my best friend—the author of World’s Greatest Hero—hadn’t even started writing the damn novel yet.
I could teach them a thing or two about getting humiliated properly.
It took them a second, but the insult finally sank in.
Their smug little expressions began to crack, twisting into sour grimaces. The kind of look people get when they realize they’ve just been publicly outclassed and don’t know how to claw their way back.
"See, Ryen?" I said with a shrug, turning to him like this was just casual gossip. "They’re mad at you because you were mad at them a minute ago. Look at ’em, blushing like high school crushes."
Ryen blinked, confused. "Really? They’re angry at me?"
Oh, you sweet summer child.
Of course not, you beautiful, clueless idiot.
That was all it took for the trio to finally snap.
"Hey, loser!" one of them barked. "What’s with the attitude, huh? We were just messing around! You seriously can’t take a joke?"
A joke? That was a joke?
Wow. Standards really have plummeted. Is this what passes for humor these days?
Maybe I am getting old.
But as for me being cocky?
I’ll admit it—I was. Confident too. And why wouldn’t I be?
Because behind me stood Ryen. And I knew for a fact that he wasn’t about to let any of these wannabe tough guys lay a single finger on me.
So I leaned in just a bit, lowered my voice like I was sharing a secret, and said, "Ah, so that was supposed to be a joke. Cute. It was so clumsy I honestly thought you were planning to drop out and join the circus. Maybe do stand-up at a retirement home."
Their jaws clenched, the color in their faces deepening from red to pure rage.
I gave them a casual shrug.
"Seriously though, those jokes? Don’t try them outside the academy. You’ll be doing the world a favor if you just graduate quietly and disappear."
"You little bastard...!"
There it was.
The dam finally broke.
I couldn’t help but grin. These were the same guys who started everything, but now they were the ones frothing at the mouth?
"Oh my," I said with a dramatic gasp.
"Cursing first! Starting the fight! And look at those cheeks—blushing like schoolgirls in a love triangle! You guys are so multi-talented."
Honestly, I could’ve gone further—like mentioning how proud their parents must be to have raised such emotionally unstable prodigies—but I held back.
They were still minors, after all.
But apparently, they caught the sarcasm in my voice loud and clear, because two of them took a step forward, fists raised like they thought this was going to end well for them.
Oh my.
How adorable.
The one in front—the self-proclaimed leader of the pack—charged first. His form was a disaster. No proper stance, no magic reinforcement, and his punch was slower than a wet towel in the wind.
With my current skills, I could’ve landed two or three clean hits before he even realized what happened.
"I’ve honestly lost my appetite just looking at trash like you,"
But then someone stepped in.
Someone whose very presence shifted the air in the room.
Tall, calm, cold and arrogant as ever...
Leo Taylor.
Of course it was him.