Chapter - 15 [ Introduction ]

The students sat frozen in their seats, their rigid postures betraying the tension coursing through the room.

Some exchanged nervous glances, silently questioning what kind of presence had just entered.

Others instinctively straightened up, as if sheer discipline could shield them from the scrutiny of the behemoth of a man standing before them.

Victor felt an involuntary chill crawl down his spine. Though he wasn't small by any means, he suddenly felt dwarfed, as if reduced to the size of a mere child in the presence of this towering figure.

It wasn't just the man's sheer height or the bulk of his frame—there was something more.

A quiet yet oppressive authority hung in the air around him, an invisible force that demanded absolute attention.

The man walked slowly to the center of the stage, each step deliberate and filled with purpose. His movements were calm yet powerful, like a predator surveying its domain.

The suit he wore, though formal, did little to conceal the raw strength beneath. The fabric clung to his broad shoulders and thick arms, outlining a physique built from years of rigorous training and battle.

Every step he took emphasized his dominance. He did not need to command silence; his presence alone had already accomplished that.

When he reached the podium, he turned to face the class. His sharp gaze swept across the room, briefly pausing on each student as though weighing their worth.

Even the most confident among them seemed to shrink beneath his scrutiny. No one dared to meet his gaze for long.

It was as if he could see through their very souls, measuring their potential, their strengths, and perhaps even their fears.

Victor's mind raced. He tried to gauge the man's Aura, but there was nothing—no visible fluctuation, no tangible energy. And yet, the air itself felt heavier, charged with an unspoken pressure.

This wasn't just any professor. This was someone who could crush an opponent with sheer aura alone.

The silence in the room grew almost unbearable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Then, finally, the man spoke.

"Good morning."

His voice was deep, a low rumble that resonated through the very bones of those listening. There was no need for theatrics—his words carried weight simply because of who he was.

In Gazzile, Tertinish was the international language, created to bridge the gap between people from different regions.

Children were taught this language from a young age to ensure seamless communication.

"Welcome to your first day at Heaven Academy," he continued. "My name is Sergey Barbarian. I will be your combat instructor for the first and second year."

Victor felt another shiver run down his spine. The sheer power in Sergey's voice was undeniable.

"I don't tolerate laziness." Sergey's eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the students. His stare was sharp, like that of a predator sizing up prey.

"I don't tolerate excuses. And I certainly don't tolerate disrespect."

His words cut through the room like a blade. A few students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The weight of his expectations was already beginning to sink in.

"If you think you can coast through this year, you are gravely mistaken."

A tense silence followed.

"Here at Heaven Academy, you will be pushed to your limits. You will face challenges that will break you if you are not prepared."

His tone was unwavering, a promise rather than a warning.

"But those who endure will emerge stronger, sharper, and ready to take their place among the elite."

Victor listened intently. Sergey wasn't just an instructor—this was a man who had likely faced these very challenges himself and come out victorious.

For a brief moment, Sergey's gaze landed on Victor.

Victor held his breath. The giant's piercing eyes felt as if they could see straight through him, peeling away every layer he had carefully built around himself.

His heart skipped a beat, but he did not flinch. He did not look away.

Sergey moved on, turning his attention back to the class. "Now, we'll begin with introductions. One by one, you'll stand and tell me your name, your Aura Grade, and what you hope to achieve this year."

He leaned forward slightly. "Speak clearly, and don't waste my time."

The tension in the room thickened as the first student hesitantly stood up.

Victor leaned back slightly in his seat, watching the interactions with keen interest.

"Aydan Fall. 91% purity, First-Tier Aura Grade. I wish to become a hunter!"

"Busha Ran. 66% purity, Second-Tier Aura Grade. I wish to become a hunter!"

One after another, students stood up and introduced themselves.

"Novaria Chritina. 98% purity, First-Tier Aura Grade."

She paused for a brief moment before finishing her statement.

"I will be a leader who will lead humanity to conquer the dimensional rifts!"

A murmur rippled through the room. Some students exchanged skeptical glances. Others barely contained their laughter.

Sergey's gaze darkened.

"Oh. You want to conquer the rifts?"

His voice was calm, but his words struck like a solid blow.

"The intense radiation from the rift alone makes it impossible to approach it."

His sharp eyes bore into her. The weight of his words pressed down on her shoulders.

"But it is good to have ambition in life."

He straightened.

"Princess of Waria, Novaria Chritina, see how they are laughing at you."

Novaria's hands clenched at her sides. Though she kept her face neutral, the soft sound of mockery reached her ears.

Sergey shifted his gaze to the students who had been laughing. The room fell silent once more.

"You have the highest Aura purity in the entire world—just behind the principal of Heaven Academy."

A pause.

"Rank first in the Student List, which will be created after your midterms."

His voice grew colder.

"Then it will be you who laughs."

He wasn't scolding the ones who had laughed at her. He wasn't even defending her.

He was simply stating a fact.

A fact that carried weight.

One that left the room in absolute silence.

---

"Vanessa Cersh. 91% purity, First-Tier Aura Grade. I will be a hunter!"

Her voice was steady, filled with confidence, but Victor barely paid attention.

These kinds of declarations had become routine to him—ambitious words spoken with fervor yet often lacking true weight. He had long grown accustomed to them.

Then it was his turn. He rose from his seat, his movements smooth and controlled, his expression unreadable.

"Victor Kal. 95% purity, First-Tier Aura Grade. I wish to be a support."

His words were delivered in an emotionless tone, as if he were stating a simple fact rather than making a grand declaration.

A ripple of murmurs spread through the classroom, hushed but undeniable. The reactions were mixed—some scoffed, some frowned in confusion, and a few exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.

Sergey's gaze lingered on him for a fraction longer than it had on the others, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

Though the instructor remained silent, Victor could almost hear the unspoken question in his mind.

'A waste… but I must never point at someone's ambition.'

Sergey sighed inwardly. He had seen many students with great potential take unexpected paths, and while some squandered their talent, others had reasons far deeper than anyone could guess.

He chose not to comment further and simply observed as the remaining students introduced themselves.

Once the introductions were over, Sergey adjusted the cuffs of his suit, his imposing figure radiating authority.

"Classes will start exactly at 10 a.m. Any student who is late will have to forget about attending that period."

His voice carried no room for negotiation. Some students straightened in their seats, suddenly hyper-aware of the discipline expected of them.

"You were notified to arrive early today because all first-year students will be participating in a small competition."

At the mention of a competition, excitement flickered across many faces.

"At 10 o'clock, we will head to the training ground behind the academy. All sections will be present."

Sergey's gaze scanned the room, ensuring that every student understood the weight of his words before continuing.

"There are 400 students in the first year, yet only 20 are designated as special students with privileges. This, understandably, creates an imbalance."

A murmur ran through the classroom. Those not among the privileged 20 sat up straighter, eager to hear what Sergey had to say next.

"The Vice Principal has decided to offer an opportunity. Today, 30 additional students will be granted special status based on their performance in the competition."

Excitement surged in the room. Students clenched their fists, their minds already racing with possibilities.

"And for those of you who are dissatisfied with your current standing—this competition is your only chance. Normal students, you also have the opportunity to forcibly take someone else's privilege."

A heavy silence followed his words, and then—

"Wait, does that mean we can fight for a spot?"

"If we win, we become special students?"

"This is our chance!"

Sergey let their whispers settle before delivering his final words.

"By the end of today, the number of first-year special students will increase from 20 to 50. We have 15 minutes left before we head to the training ground. Use this time wisely."

His gaze swept across the class one final time, measuring their reactions. Excitement, determination, anxiety—each student processing his words in their own way.

With that, Sergey turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his presence leaving a heavy imprint on the atmosphere.

For a moment, the classroom remained still, but then—

"Is God helping me?"

"I will definitely become a special student!"

"What kind of competition will it be? Do we need to fight?"

Voices erupted as students broke into frenzied chatter. Some leaned over their desks, exchanging strategies, while others clenched their fists, psyching themselves up for the upcoming battle. The energy in the room had shifted entirely.

Victor, however, merely observed. The sight of his classmates bouncing in their seats, eyes gleaming with excitement, was almost amusing. They were brimming with hope, but hope alone was never enough.

"Victor."

A familiar voice called his name, drawing his attention. He turned his head slightly to see Morgan and Narmadi staring at him with an intensity that suggested they weren't about to let something slide.

'Do I have something on my face?'

Instinctively, Victor almost reached for his handkerchief, but Morgan's words stopped him.

"Were you serious when you said you wanted to be a support and not a hunter?"

Her voice was laced with disbelief, her sharp eyes studying his face as if searching for deception.

"You lied before, right?"

Narmadi cut in, crossing her arms. She, too, found his declaration hard to believe.

The support role was not one chosen by those with talent. It was meant for those who had failed to meet the rigorous physical demands required to become hunters—those with lower Aura Grades who lacked the raw power to fight.

And yet, here was Victor Kal, a First-Tier Aura user with 95% purity, willingly choosing a role meant for the weak.

To them, it made no sense.

Victor met their gazes, understanding their confusion.

The truth was, he had no interest in being a hunter. The idea of fighting head-on, of clashing with crawlers and mutated beasts, was repulsive to him.

He had seen horrors beyond imagination—the sensation of his soul being ripped from his body, the merciless slaughter of innocents, the cold-blooded nature of criminals who killed without hesitation.

He had no intention of subjecting himself to such madness.

A hunter's life was perilous.

But a support role? That was different.

By staying in the backline, he could minimize risk while still contributing to a team. It was the safest way to get where he needed to be.

Because ultimately, his goal wasn't to hunt monsters—it was to study them.

Dimensional rifts.

They were the key to everything. The only way to get close to them was through MAD. But without becoming a hunter, how could he gain access?

Support was his answer.

Joining MAD was inevitable. It was the only path that made sense.

'It must be my destiny.'

Victor had pondered this for so long, and every time, he arrived at the same conclusion.

"Yes. I stand with what I have said before."

His voice was calm, unwavering.

Morgan furrowed her brows. "But why? You have a First-Tier Aura Grade. Why would you want to be a support?"

There was genuine frustration in her tone. She couldn't wrap her head around his reasoning.

Victor leaned slightly toward her, lowering his voice just enough for only her and Narmadi to hear.

"I am scared of fighting head-on," he said, his lips curling into a small, unreadable smile. "That's why I want to be a support. Professor Sergey wouldn't want others to question my goal."

With that, he leaned back and closed his eyes, ignoring the hushed murmurs spreading through the classroom.

Morgan and Narmadi exchanged glances.

"That… doesn't sound right."

Narmadi whispered, her expression skeptical.

Morgan nodded. "I don't believe it. There must be a reason behind his decision."

Their quiet conversation continued, but Victor paid them no mind.

Meanwhile, the male student beside them sat silently, completely ignored. His existence was as unremarkable as ever.

Then, finally—

Sergey returned.

"Everyone, follow me quietly to the training ground."

The students filed out of the classroom, their chatter turning into whispers of anticipation. As they stepped into the hallway, they saw that students from other sections were also emerging, their excitement mirroring their own.

The competition was about to begin.

And Victor?

He remained as indifferent as ever.