S-Class

Ding! S-Class.

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating silence.

None of the five people who were guaranteed admission to the academy spoke. They did not expect it for a single second. 

The instructor's eyebrow lifted, his expression shifting from mere observation to genuine intrigue.

He hadn't expected this either. It was mind-boggling.

From the previous evaluation, Azarel—the student standing before him—had been identified as an A-Grade talent. Getting an S-Class rating for physical strength was beyond exceptional.

And yet…

What truly caught his attention wasn't just the result. It was the method.

This wasn't the reckless, full-force swing of an amateur trying to brute force their way through the test. This was a planned execution. He had aimed for a weak point. Not the torso, not the arms—but the neck.

The instructor's lips twitched upward slightly.

'Interesting.'