A Chilly Welcome to the Continental Academy
Anyone could see this was a superpower story, yet the knight's words were almost absurd: "Within the academy, a reasonable level of commotion is tolerated." Abel and Seria exchanged glances almost simultaneously. It was strange. These were knights from the Empire, no less. In a situation like this, the expected line would be something like, "All forms of disturbance are strictly prohibited." But tolerance instead of prohibition? And at the continent's top educational institution, no less. It was the kind of statement that made them tilt their heads in confusion, but they had to board the carriage and couldn't ask for clarification.
"Abel."
Unable to bear the lingering question marks any longer, Seria spoke first. "What do you think that knight meant just now? Tolerating commotion at the academy? Maybe he was saying not to worry because it's not a super strict atmosphere?"
"Who knows." It wasn't entirely implausible. Sure, if this were an ordinary academy, that might make sense—interpreting "commotion" as something utterly trivial. But their destination was the Continental Academy. Far from ordinary. A special place that housed those with special powers, using such phrasing? "...No way, right?"
A possibility suddenly flashed through Abel's mind. What if the knight's "commotion" wasn't some euphemism or a joke to ease their nerves? What if it meant commotion literally? And if that place happened to be the Continental Academy... No, even then, "that possibility" didn't make sense. These weren't average students. They were ability users gathered from every nation—future pillars of society. If anything went wrong with them, it wouldn't end with a few diplomatic platitudes.
"Or maybe he meant they'd overlook pranks between students a few times?"
"Could be."
"Right?" Seria seemed ready to let it go with that, but Abel was far from convinced. And soon enough, he'd be certain once more. This world was definitely a superpower story.
* * *
"Please disembark here. Your personal belongings will be sent to your assigned dormitories."
As the coachman spoke, Abel pulled out his overcoat and a few essentials. As he finally strapped his sword to his waist at the back, Seria—who had gotten off first—let out a stream of awed exclamations.
"Whoooaaa...!"
Spectacular. That single word captured the scene before them perfectly. Some might imagine an academy as just a cluster of buildings for learning, but this was different. It was the Continental Academy from the name alone—a gathering place for ability users from every nation. It couldn't possibly be just a few structures. A city. An independent world solely for ability users. For those chosen by the gods, gifted with their blessings. The most beautiful and perfect realm in history, built just for them. An island existing right on the land.
"Look, Abel! That's all the academy. Everything you see over there!"
"No, Seria. That's just a tiny fragment of where we'll be living from now on. The entrance to the Continental Academy, and only a minuscule part of this massive district."
"That much?!"
"They say it's even bigger than an imperial duchy. Why else would they designate the entire academy area as a special district?"
Incredible. Not as much as Seria, but Abel was letting out exclamations of his own. Even his home barony back in the kingdom was considered highly developed, yet compared to this, it seemed downright shabby.
"Suddenly I'm nervous again. Think I can handle it?"
"Of course. First things first—we need to report as new students, so let's head in..."
Abel's words cut off there.
"Abel?! Wh-what's wrong all of a suddenee?!"
What? What the hell? Why was Abel holding her? At first, she thought she was dreaming. But no. Dreams didn't make her head this hot. Her eyes burned, her nose burned, her ears burned. Her whole body was on fire.
Pang!
If not for the sharp shattering sound. If not for the ice shards exploding and scattering in midair. Seria might have stayed frozen in place for a while.
"Miss Seria. You okay?"
At first, she thought she'd seen wrong. Maybe the sun was just glinting unusually bright. But when she realized otherwise. When she saw the ice spear spewing flashes of light. Abel had scooped up Seria from the nearest path and retreated.
'Follow-up incoming.'
One could be dismissed as an accident, but two meant clear intent. With Seria still in his arms, drawing his sword was awkward, so Abel dodged the second spear with space to spare, then swung his fist at the shaft as it passed.
"Miss Seria. Hurt anywhere?"
"N-no, I'm fine. I'm okay."
Setting Seria down gently, Abel clenched and unclenched his fist, calmly assessing. Not a weapon of steel or wood. The feel on impact, the sound of breaking. The ice fragments melting completely into the ground below. Manifested by an ability. Cryokinesis, judging by the look of it. Not hard to predict. The real issue was next.
This could have caused injury. No murder intent from the angle, but assault was blatant.
"Whoa, dodging was impressive enough, but blocking too? These newbies are all something else."
"The class rep said it— this year's freshmen exceed expectations."
Answering Abel's questions were two students shambling out from ahead. Calling them "juniors" and mentioning "class rep" meant at least second-years. Seniors to Abel and Seria. Once he identified them, everything clicked.
So this was...
"Welcome, juniors. To the Continental Academy. The orientation was a bit rough, but you'll deal with this every day living here anyway."
"We all went through it, so don't take it too hard. In a year, you'll be taking turns doing it to the newbies too."
Right. The damn hazing ritual you find anywhere. Considering this wasn't a normal academy. Recalling this wasn't a normal world. Their actions were dangerous, but not entirely unforgivable. They were ability users too, verified talents. If Seria hadn't been distracted gawking, a little focus would have let her sense the ability approaching. Dodging wouldn't have been hard, even if blocking was out. The trajectory made it clear.
'...That's the rational take.'
Humans were emotional creatures, after all. The only beings whose actions could be explained by feelings. He knew it was academy tradition. No malice intended. But so what? Just because it was hazing, was he supposed to go, "Ah, got it." and move on? Anyone on the receiving end would feel pissed. Newbies just swallowed it to avoid clashing with seniors.
"...Heh."
Abel laughed. Not on purpose—the laughter burst through his lips uncontrollably.
'So this is how it goes? Perfect. I was wondering how things worked in a fantasy-tinged world like this. Yeah, this is textbook superpower story flow, right?'
From the academy rules he'd read on the way: Rule 1. In the academy, class year takes precedence over age or status.
"Uh, hey. Hold up. That junior's eyes look weird."
"Hey, junior? It was just hazing, so chill... Hey, put the sword away! Uwaaaah?!"
And Rule 2. Sometimes, talent in abilities trumps class year.
Why respect seniors? Because they enrolled first? Been here longer? No way. This wasn't some place where hierarchy was based on time spent in a chair. More training, more learning—that led to superior, refined ability control. That's why they were seniors, better ability users than freshmen. Meaning, if the gap was wide enough, the hierarchy could flip anytime.
"Thanks for the orientation, seniors. As thanks from this junior, could you hold still for a sec?"
"Damn it! We said it's hazing! You gotta take a joke as a joke, junior!"
"This is a joke too. So take the joke."
"You say that with eyes screaming murder?!"
Abel's swung sword cleanly bisected the ice barrier. No stray shattering. A perfect, clean cut. The second-years panicked harder, trying to stop him. Futile. Ice spears flying? Massive ice walls blocking? Abel smashed and slashed through, closing the distance.
In a normal world, he'd catch hell. Hierarchy mattered everywhere. Charging a senior in anger? Awkward later. But Abel wasn't worried. He was convinced this was right here.
'It's a superpower world. Ability supremacy. No need to play power humblebrag here, right?'
A genre he'd only imagined from afar. Become the best. The strongest. Even a candidate spot would do. For that, he'd sweated buckets since childhood, even awakened his ability.
"Crazy bastard! What, physical enhancement?! How's he that fast?!"
"Junior! Wait! Is this 'cause we targeted your girlfriend? Sorry if so! We messed up, so stop! Uwaaaah!"
What the hell were these guys saying? Girlfriend to a single guy? Were they begging to die?
"Wrong! That guy's eyes are already rolled back!"
Power surged into his legs, propelling him forward explosively. He wouldn't kill them, like they hadn't. Good skill could dodge or block. But they wouldn't. In these stories, hazing bullies who got wrecked were always mid-tier.
Chaeng!
Abel's sword, tracing a powerful arc, halted abruptly in midair. Not by choice. He'd planned a rough smack with the flat, non-lethal.
"How about reining in the disrespect toward your seniors? Classmate."
It was sword-like, club-like. Hard to pin down. Fittingly, what blocked Abel's blade was rippling, formless black darkness.
"I see you've got skill, but this'll sour the internal rep on this year's freshmen. Bad for your other classmates too—how about calling it here?"
A strikingly handsome blond man. Unmistakable nobility and poise. The familiar casual tone gave away his identity.
"Senior-junior relations are vital at the Continental Academy. Especially..."
"Abel!!"
Hah! Pant! Seria finally caught up beside him, breathless. Sunlight poured over her pink hair, amplifying her radiant charm. As her eyes met the man's who'd stepped in to stop her and Abel.
One side was nonchalant, the other... not.
"...Ahem. Hm!"
Very much not.
"Seniors. Even so, I believe aggressive actions toward a lovely lady should be avoided."
Watching the man blush and switch tunes, Abel and Seria could only tilt their heads: "What the hell's this guy's deal?" "What's up with him?"