Practical Battle (1)

"It was pathetic," Elena said, her gaze sweeping across the room. The weight of her presence crushed the students, her aura making it clear that she saw them as nothing more than insects beneath her heel.

Her voice was cold and sharp as she continued. "For starters, some of you displayed a complete lack of teamwork. We deliberately placed high-ranked students in groups to help you understand the importance of cooperation. You were supposed to work together, support one another, and strategize as a team."

She let her words hang in the air before her expression twisted with disapproval.

"But what did you do?" she asked, her voice laced with disdain. "Instead of working as a unit, many of you were more concerned with showing off your own abilities, prioritizing individual glory over mission success."

The room was silent, but the tension in the air thickened.

"Because of your reckless actions, your teammates struggled against the remaining monsters. If this had been a real dungeon, your negligence could have allowed monsters to escape, leading to a dungeon outbreak. Do you understand what that means?"

Her piercing gaze swept over the students, her voice unwavering. "We are hunters. Our job is to clear gates thoroughly and protect civilians from the horrors inside. There is no room for selfishness."

Daemon leaned back slightly, suppressing a scoff. 'Hmph. As if that's really the case.' He had seen enough to know that, in reality, power dictated everything. Morality was a distant second.

Elena continued, her sharp eyes settling on one particular student.

"And then, there were those of you who were so arrogant that you abandoned your teammates completely, ignoring their advice and doing whatever you pleased."

Her gaze landed on Victor, lingering for a moment. The tension in the air grew heavier.

Daemon didn't even need to look to know who she was staring at. 'Of course, it's him.'

Victor, known for his inflated ego, had no doubt left his team behind without a second thought. 

"However, what's worse than having an inflated ego," Elena continued, her voice dripping with disdain, "is being weak and still having an inflated ego."

Her sharp gaze swept across the room before landing on Daemon. She didn't even try to hide the disgust in her eyes as she looked directly at him, her expression hard and unyielding. The room felt colder under the weight of her glare.

The moment she singled him out, a wave of murmurs spread through the amphitheater.

"It seems Professor Elena really doesn't like Daemon."

"What do you expect from a low rank like him?"

Students whispered among themselves, alternating glances between their instructor and Daemon. A few smirked, relieved that they weren't the ones on the receiving end of her harsh words. Among them, Amelia turned back with a satisfied grin, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

Yet, despite the scrutiny, Daemon remained completely still. His expression didn't waver. He didn't flinch, didn't lower his gaze, didn't offer any response at all.

To the others, it seemed like he was indifferent, unaffected by Elena's words. But what they failed to notice was the slight change in his eyes—how they had grown colder, sharper, like a blade being honed.

Was he angry? Of course. Any human being would be. But anger, if left unchecked, was dangerous. And Daemon was not a fool.

He understood his position. He had no power, no influence, nothing backing him up. A fool would let their emotions control them, lashing out without a plan.

But Daemon was not a fool.

He would endure. For now, at least.

In the end, Elena's harsh words didn't seem to bother Daemon. He remained unfazed, his expression calm and unreadable.

He didn't care about his grades. He didn't care about what the others thought of him.

None of it mattered.

He had only one goal—to become the strongest. No, even beyond strength, he wanted to reach the level of a god. 

And for that, he didn't need the approval of his classmates. He didn't need the favor of his instructors.

In the game Hunter's Academy Online, Daemon was nothing more than an extra—a nameless background character in Arthur's grand story.

But this wasn't a game.

This was his life. And in his life, he was the main character.

To him, everyone else was just an extra.

As the lesson went on, Elena continued her sharp criticisms, dissecting the students' performances with a ruthless tone. Her voice was strict, her words merciless.

**********

Just like that, the day's classes came to an end.

"As today's lesson concludes, I have an important announcement," Professor Elena said, her sharp gaze sweeping across the students. "Starting tomorrow, we will begin a series of practical combat lessons."

A wave of murmurs spread through the room as students exchanged glances. Practical combat was a critical skill for hunters, especially when facing human adversaries. It involved hand-to-hand combat and weapon techniques meant for fighting other hunters or enemies outside the gates.

"We will be pairing up for these lessons, and I expect each of you to take them seriously," Elena continued. "Your close-combat abilities will be tested, so make sure to refine your skills."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the classroom, heading toward her office.

Daemon remained seated, watching her leave.

Practical lessons… huh.

He had been practicing with his sword for a while now, and thanks to his skill [Sword Mastery], it had become easier. The higher his proficiency in it, the sharper and faster his movements became.

This will be a good chance to test my progress.

With that thought, Daemon got up from his seat.

As Daemon was making his way toward the exit, a voice called out from behind him.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?"

The tone was laced with scorn, sharp and mocking. Daemon stopped in his tracks and turned toward the source of the voice.

A blonde-haired student stood there, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. Daemon recognized him—Carl Helmut. If he recalled correctly, Carl's rank was somewhere between 500 and 600. Not at the very top, but still among the stronger students.

His family was also affiliated with the Federation. Though they weren't a major powerhouse, they still held a respectable position.

While Daemon briefly considered this, Carl's voice cut through his thoughts again, louder this time.

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Where do you think you're going, you last-ranked bastard?"

A tense silence settled over the classroom as all eyes focused on the confrontation.

Daemon let out a quiet sigh. He had no interest in pointless fights, especially not here. If he wanted, he could easily put Carl in his place. But fighting in the middle of class would only bring unnecessary trouble. He was already disliked by both students and teachers—there was no need to add fuel to the fire.

Besides, Carl's family had ties to the Federation. That alone was reason enough to avoid a direct conflict. The last thing Daemon needed was more complications.

Without a word, he turned away and continued toward the door.

But Carl wasn't about to let it slide. His expression twisted with anger at the blatant disregard.

'How dare this bastard ignore me?' Carl thought, his fury boiling over.

Acting on impulse, he clenched his fists and lunged forward, aiming a punch at Daemon's back.

Just as the attack was about to land—

Daemon moved.

With a single step to the side, he effortlessly dodged the punch. Carl's fist met empty air, throwing him off balance.

Daemon didn't waste the opening.

With precise control, he lifted his leg and struck Carl's own, sweeping it from under him.

Carl's body lurched forward, gravity taking hold as he lost his footing—

And with a loud thud, he crashed onto the floor.

A groan escaped Carl's lips as he hit the ground, the impact sending a sharp sting through his body. But more than the pain, it was the humiliation that burned the most.

He—Carl Helmut, a high-ranked student—had been knocked down by a nobody. A last-ranked weakling. The realization made his blood boil.

Grinding his teeth, he lifted his gaze, only to meet Daemon's eyes.

Carl immediately regretted it.

From his position on the floor, he had to look up at Daemon, and the way Daemon stared down at him sent a fresh wave of anger through him.

It was condescending. Dismissive. Like Carl wasn't even worth his attention.

"You basta—!"

Carl started to curse, but the words died in his throat.

A strange chill crawled down his spine, paralyzing him. His breath hitched as an unfamiliar fear wrapped around his body, heavy and suffocating. It was as if he had just locked eyes with a predator.

Carl didn't know what was happening, but for the first time in his life, he felt small.

Then—just as suddenly as it appeared—the feeling vanished.

Like it had never existed in the first place.

Daemon had already turned away, walking out of the classroom with slow, deliberate steps.

Carl remained frozen for a moment, his mind racing. What the hell was that?

His fingers clenched into fists as he forced himself to stand. He glanced around, searching the faces of the other students—had they felt it too?

Nothing.

No one else seemed affected. No one was even looking at him anymore.

Carl swallowed. So it was just me...?

For that brief moment, he had felt an undeniable threat to his life.

But that was ridiculous.

There was no way Daemon Gracefall—the lowest-ranked student—could make him feel fear.

Shaking off the unease, Carl squared his shoulders and forced himself to believe a more acceptable excuse.

'I just let my guard down. That's all. There's no way I'd ever be afraid of someone like him.'

He convinced himself of that, even as his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Meanwhile, the other students had already moved on.

They dismissed the incident entirely, assuming Carl had simply lost focus. After all, it was impossible for someone like Daemon to be strong.

It wasn't impossible for a student to grow stronger. Many students climbed the ranks over time, their strength increasing through hard work and training.

But for Daemon—the last-ranked student—to suddenly be capable of defeating a high-ranker? That was unthinkable.

It had only been a month since the semester began. There was no way someone at the very bottom could improve so drastically in such a short time.

At least, that's what everyone believed.

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