The Inevitable Academy Raid
There's a saying that a slip of the tongue is inevitable. It means you should be careful with your words, lest something precious slips out. It's friendly advice from our ancestors who learned it the hard way—don't make the same mistake.
In that sense, Abel felt a bit wronged. He hadn't even uttered a word; it was just a thought. He hadn't even started speaking and then caught himself with an "oh no." Yet the moment the thought crossed his mind, one side of the academy exploded, and a building came crashing down.
If this was his fault, he'd have every right to feel indignant.
At first, he figured it was just Flam Phoenix or Portus Sparrow causing trouble again. But the campus broadcast that followed shattered Abel's expectations.
All faculty, prepare for combat.
Unlimited ability use is now permitted for all ability users.
Preemptive action authorized against unidentified individuals after ID confirmation.
It had come at last. The academy raid.
Of course. Coming to the academy without an event like this wouldn't make sense.
Abel clenched his fist toward the sky, thinking, Finally! This is my chance!
Crash!
He'd forgotten this was the greenhouse. Forgotten how close the ceiling was. Shattering the glass pane with his outstretched hand was just icing on the cake.
Fortunately, no one cared that Abel had wrecked the greenhouse ceiling. With the broadcast blaring about something ominous happening, who had time to worry about a broken skylight?
"Hey, arsonist. You didn't screw up something before coming here, did you?"
"You're one to talk, water boy."
"Enough from both of you. You know things are getting weird. Lady Seria? We should head somewhere safe first."
Correction: the two were bickering again, while one was too busy fretting over Seria. No matter what happened at the academy, they were focused on their own drama.
They'd handle themselves fine. Seria was in good hands with those heavy hitters around—no need to worry.
So this was the perfect chance to build his reputation, make a splash, and get a head start against the enemies he'd face someday. The biggest payoff right now...
"Lord Abel! Come with us, Lord Abel!"
"Me too, Lady Seria?"
No, I want to enjoy this event rather than flee to safety.
Abel tried to voice his opinion delicately, but Kalligo beat him to it.
"Lady Seria is right, Abel. I understand your feelings, but we're short on experience. The enemy, on the other hand, are hardened enough to strike here."
"..."
"Getting caught in a fight and taken hostage would be the worst outcome. What do you all think?"
He was addressing Abel, but also Flam and Portus behind him. I know you're hotshots, but don't pull a stunt that'll embarrass the academy and the Empire. Just stay put somewhere safe.
"I can't agree with the 'lack of experience' part."
"Shut it, water boy."
"But as His Highness—no, Lord Kalligo says, it's better to stay put than rush in and play into the enemy's hands."
These were the guys who'd been at the heart of every major incident since enrollment, yet here they were. Was Kalligo swaying them toward evacuation? Or was it Seria's influence? Abel pondered seriously.
"Anyway, let's move. Abel!"
In the end, Abel got dragged along half by force, achieving none of his goals. But there was a silver lining. He finally had time to seriously mull over one nagging question he'd been putting off.
Why, in this obscure gardening club of all places—with hardly anyone around—did three big-shot guys and one ambiguous girl walk in, and boom, this happens?
Boom! Bang!
Watching the four ahead move swiftly, Abel rubbed his chin. No matter where they went, his gut told him they'd run smack into the chaos's ringleaders.
Abilities are gifts from the gods. At the same time, they are marks of the duty bestowed upon us.
Only those who possess them earn the right to live on this land under divine blessing.
Those without are failed creations, destined to sacrifice themselves for the blessed.
The world calls this ravings of Ability Supremacists.
They curse us, saying we're spouting nonsense just because we luckily awakened our abilities.
Yet Jureung had never once doubted his ideology.
Ordinary humans heap expectations and burdens on ability users. They contribute nothing themselves, yet judge if our powers weaken or control slips—daring to deem us "successes" or "failures." Failed beings evaluating the blessed.
Jureung couldn't stomach it. He couldn't even accept it.
Take the Continental Academy itself—built by non-ability users. They claim it's for ability users, but it's just a prison to train and restrict us at their whim!
'Failed humans are oppressing us, the divinely blessed ability users. How long will we suffer their schemes?!'
He spread this message to other ability users. We can't live like this forever. Why must we be tools for non-ability scum? Why restrict our own powers to fit in among them?
The weak should adapt to the strong—not us to them. They must conform to the natural order.
Why should God's greatest creations be bound by rules made by failures?!
"What the hell are you lunatics babbling about? If you use abilities freely, what about your non-ability families? Think they'll be fine?"
"Pretty words, but you're just after becoming the new elite, aren't you? If abilities are divine gifts, does it make sense to use them for such filthy ends?"
He'd expected backlash. Fierce opposition was natural. But facing it head-on ignited an even greater fire in Jureung and his fellow supremacists.
He'd assumed fellow ability users would side with them. At least stay neutral, even if not supportive.
But no. They'd been brainwashed by non-ability users. Proud ability users chaining themselves like dogs!
"This can't go on."
Right. It couldn't. Soon, all ability users would be just like them. Those unchosen rejects would collar every last one of us—and our own kind would push the leashes, calling it "normal."
He'd thought non-ability users were the enemy. But no. The real foes were inside.
The first to eliminate: shortsighted idiots chasing immediate gains and stares over our future.
"To do that, we must strike the brainwashing institution—the Continental Academy—that turns ability users into non-ability lackeys."
"Damage alone won't cut it. We need catastrophic harm to shut it down for at least half a year."
"That's ideal, but is it feasible?"
The Continental Academy isn't some school for green rookies. It's crawling with pre-vetted prodigies. They lack only experience; otherwise, they're on par with top ability users.
And it's not just students. Regular troops and knights guard the perimeter, while veteran faculty—lacking in raw student vigor but rich in battle scars—fill the halls.
Sure, soldiers and knights are non-ability users, and faculty are past their prime. But they're no force to underestimate.
Attacking means facing the full army and hordes of ability users. Without war-scale prep, even a raid's success is a pipe dream.
"We've run simulations on that countless times."
"Exactly. Plus, we have insiders who've long been in touch. An external assault alone would fail, but chaos from within makes it viable."
Right. Not every disgruntled ability user is in our fold. Plenty crave greater glory. Greater power and authority. Just fan the flames. Whisper of the rights we deserve as ability users.
"Even so, dealing a real blow to the Continental Academy..."
"That's why I have to go."
His comrades nodded at Jureung's confident words. He might seem arrogant, but considering his ability, it was no exaggeration.
If he neutralized the non-ability knights and soldiers... No matter how mighty the ability user...
They'd be no different from the obsolete rejects the moment they neared him.