A Lesson in Humility

Inside the dark gym warehouse located on the outskirts of Holy Academy, three stern-looking cadets were huddled together.

Boom! Boom!

The dull thud of a hard polo ball hitting the wall resonated through the room. Melverick, a second-year student who was throwing the ball, grinned nervously.

"He's late, Zane Cromwell. How many times is he going to get hit today now that he's so late?"

The large cadet squatting next to him snickered and answered the question.

"That's right. He's going to die. Is he late because he's wearing something inside his pants?"

At those words, the sly-looking cadet sitting on the jumping jacks burst into laughter and chimed in.

"Hey, last time he did that, he got hit 100 times instead of 10. If that kid had a brain, he would've just bounced back. Oh, but that kid doesn't have a brain, does he?"

Melverick threw the bouncing ball back at the wall with all his might and spoke forcefully.

"Or maybe he got hit so hard his brain was destroyed?"

The other two burst into laughter.

"Be careful not to kill someone today," one of them joked.

"What if I kill him? That little Zane Cromwell was abandoned by his family. I don't think anyone in that family will say anything if I kill him. Besides, with the power of our family and the juvenile delinquent buff, so what?"

For these second-year students at Holy Academy, Zane Cromwell was the perfect prey.

An overly timid personality, coming from a wealthy family, and surprisingly poor talent.

Because of his pretty face, he had been quite popular among the female students at the beginning of the semester. But after his true identity was revealed, that interest had long since disappeared.

At that moment, a smart-looking cadet took out a pocket watch from his pocket and said.

"Hey, look at this! It's already 11:52. Wow, Zane, that bastard, did he get hit so hard that he lost all fear along with his brain?"

The big, distracted guy nodded slowly and muttered.

"Isn't just hitting him a few times enough? We should feed him some fresh, hot pig slop from the school pen today."

Melverick grumbled as he caught the ball bouncing off the wall.

"… Really? That little brat has been making me crazy in the middle of the night, but are you serious about this?"

The ball, thrown against the wall, bounced back with a loud noise.

The corners of Melverick's mouth twitched in annoyance and anger.

The big guy slumped to the floor, groaning.

"… The more I think about it, the more it seems like X. Why do we have to collect the money ourselves? We did it to the point where we almost threw up last year."

Normally, small tasks like collecting money were something that first-year students were supposed to handle. However, since three of the first-year students from the Black Fang group had suddenly dropped out, this tiresome task was left to the second-year students.

Finally, Melverick spoke quietly, his face serious.

"By any chance… that Zane Cromwell kid didn't drop out because he was taking care of the first-year students, right?"

At those words, the second-year students exchanged looks of shock and fear. But that was only for a moment.

"Poohahaha! Does that even make sense!?"

"This one was honestly funny, I admit."

The second-year students of the Pitch Black Fang class burst into laughter, their laughter shaking the gym warehouse.

Melverick continued speaking leisurely.

"Anyway, there's definitely something about that guy. That's why the younger ones dropped out in droves. Let's really get to the bottom of it today."

At that moment.

*Squeak.*

The gym warehouse door slowly began to open.

That's right.

Zane Cromwell, the prey they had been waiting for, had finally shown up.

Melverick threw the ball he was holding with all his might as if he had been waiting for this moment.

"It's 12:01. One minutes late. Zane, you're screwed, you punk!"

A ball rushing in with terrifying momentum.

*Wheeeeeeeek!*

If it hit directly, it would most likely shatter his front teeth and jawbone.

A smile appeared on Melverick's face.

And then.

*Puck!*

A dull noise erupted.

The ball struck someone's face, bounced off, and rolled on the floor.

*Roll, roll, roll…*

Soon, the trio's expressions turned blank.

"…"

The large shadow standing tall in front of the warehouse door was definitely not Zane Cromwell's.

"The second-year students called me from the gym storage room, so I came to check… What's going on?"

The person scratching the bridge of his nose, as if a mosquito had bitten him, was none other than Professor Sans-culottes.

The silence in the gym warehouse was thick and suffocating.

Melverick, his arm still outstretched from the throw, stood frozen. His eyes widened as he processed what had just happened.

Professor Sans-culottes, towering over the students, glanced down at the ball that had rolled to his feet. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but his gaze remained calm and piercing.

"You boys seem to be having a lot of fun," Professor Sans-culottes said, his voice calm yet carrying an underlying threat. He bent down slowly, picking up the polo ball, casually tossing it up and down in his hand. The sound of the ball bouncing in his palm echoed ominously in the quiet gym.

Melverick finally managed to force a smile, but his voice betrayed him, wavering as he spoke. "P-Professor, we… we were just playing around. We didn't expect you…"

The professor's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to the group.

"Playing around, you say? It didn't look like any game I've seen before."

He glanced at the other two cadets, who had gone deathly pale.

"Perhaps you could explain to me why you were throwing a ball at someone's face with enough force to shatter bone."

The sly cadet, still sitting on the jumping jacks, shifted uncomfortably. "It was a misunderstanding, Professor. We were just, you know… teaching Zane Cromwell a lesson. He's been late, and…"

"Ah, I see," Professor Sans-culottes interrupted, his tone dangerously light. "So you're the self-appointed disciplinarians of the academy now? Deciding who deserves punishment and how it should be delivered?"

The cadets exchanged nervous glances. None of them dared to speak further. The tension in the air was palpable, each second ticking by painfully slowly.

Professor Sans-culottes finally stopped tossing the ball, gripping it tightly in his hand. His eyes bore into each of the cadets, making them feel even smaller under his towering presence.

"Let me remind you of something, boys," he said, his voice now cold and commanding. "This academy does not tolerate bullying in any form, especially not from those who believe their family names give them power over others. If I catch any of you doing something like this again, your time at Holy Academy will be cut very, very short."

The stern look on his face made it clear that this was no idle threat.

Melverick swallowed hard, his bravado completely gone. "We… we understand, Professor."

Professor Sans-culottes stared at them for another long moment, then tossed the ball back to Melverick. "You'd better."

Without another word, the professor turned and made his way toward the exit. The heavy atmosphere in the warehouse lifted slightly with each step he took, but the cadets knew better than to feel relieved just yet.