First Class (6): Pass
“Pass.” With those words, Izuna's White Flash crumbled into faded fragments in the man's hand.
“......”
“......”
“...Gulp.”
A chill silence descended over the training field. A perfect hush, where not even breathing could be heard. It was as if the man before them had sucked all the air from the surroundings, creating a vacuum.
The overwhelming aura was leagues beyond those tentacles from moments ago. Some cadets instinctively realized it then. That man was the true body of the tentacles. The horrifying realization that those monstrous appendages were mere extensions of him hit the cadets like a thunderbolt.
And among them, the one who took the biggest shock was undoubtedly Izuna.
“...No way.”
The words slipped from her lips unbidden. It was her full-powered strike. Even her S-rank hero father had praised the technique, yet it had shattered like a cookie crumb in the grip of some nameless man.
But the shock didn't end there. The most staggering part was that he'd snatched the White Flash right out of the air. It was her strongest, fastest attack. Its speed was such that most superhumans couldn't dodge it—not even she could track it clearly with her own eyes. Even the captain of the Winchester family's guard could only block it; he'd never managed to grab it mid-flight.
And even if he had caught it, the sheer destructive power would've shredded his hand. Yet that man's black, armor-clad fist was unscratched, pristine.
A utterly despairing gap in power. She felt it more deeply than anyone, her fingertips trembling faintly.
Clap, clap, clap.
The red-eyed man who had crushed the White Flash released the armor from his hand and walked forward slowly, applauding.
Flinch.
With each step he took, the cadets instinctively retreated a step, but the man paid them no mind, opening his mouth with a smiling face.
“Excellent. Very well done. You eliminated all the enemies, scouted escape routes, showed teamwork, and even pinpointed the main body. Beyond expectations for a first class.”
His voice sounded genuinely thrilled. Realizing that sent chills down the cadets' spines. He'd reduced them to this state and was excited about it? Was this guy some kind of villain?
Ethan swallowed hard and spoke up.
“...Are you the professor? The one in charge of this course?”
“That's right. I'm Han Seongjin, your instructor for Practical Crisis Response and Breakthrough.”
As he spoke, Han Seongjin glanced at one spot, and the male cadet lying there staggered to his feet, moving behind him. It was the one who'd been launched by the tentacles earlier. He wasn't unscathed, but no major injuries either. The cadets' eyes widened at the sight.
“This is a guard from the main building. I specially invited him to heighten your sense of crisis. How was it? Felt pretty real, right?”
“““......”””
The cadets' faces shifted through shades of anger, deflation, and belated relief at his joke-that-wasn't-a-joke.
Ethan sheathed his mana blade and let out a hollow laugh as he asked,
“...Professor, was all of this... the class?”
“Exactly. Everything you did was practice for responding to sudden crises. Even these tentacles are my ability.”
At those words, ten tentacles sprouted from behind Han Seongjin, drawing gasps from the cadets—once for confirming they were his power, and again seeing the destroyed ones fully regenerated.
Leo's reaction was especially pronounced; he visibly flinched. So the regeneration was real? All those tentacles they'd struggled to destroy would just come back to life in moments?
That fact silenced even those cadets who'd been on the verge of exploding in rage at his declaration that it was all just class. Han Seongjin nodded in satisfaction and took the tablet Reina handed him.
“Alright, let's do roll call and feedback. First, Ethan Miller.”
“...Yes.”
“Excellent handling. Seizing command in chaos, allocating personnel, and that final mana spear decision. Outstanding overall.”
“...Thank you.”
It was clearly praise, yet it felt oddly off. Ethan nodded, a mix of good and bad sensations swirling inside.
The evaluations continued.
“Leo Grant. Solid overall, but falling for the taunt was fatal. In real combat, your head would've been smashed. Never let your guard down, no matter how simple the enemy seems. Cecile Urnia. Freezing the tentacles was great, and the structures too, but you completely neglected your surroundings while focusing. Without teammates, you'd be dead. Remember that.”
Cecile bowed her head silently. She had no rebuttal to the critique.
“Ayla Siena. Good judgment. But I want to give you big points for your will. Well done. Head to the infirmary now. If you have classes later, I'll let them know.”
“Th-thank you... No classes today...”
Moving past the struggling Ayla.
“Rakna. Nothing to nitpick. Excellent overall. I expect more.”
“Thank you.”
“Izuna Winchester. Honestly, I'd give you the highest score. Situation awareness, tentacle suppression, rescuing the injured, pinpointing the main body. Perfect 100.”
“......”
Han Seongjin's gaze swept over the other cadets, finally stopping on the black-haired girl staring blankly from the corner of the field.
“Lien Crossfield.”
Lien's shoulders jerked at his call.
“...Yes, Professor.”
“Fine swordsmanship. Excellent. Keep pushing forward.”
“...Thank you.”
He said it indifferently, with a faint smile, and Lien's face flushed pink.
“......”
“......”
The first-year cadets froze at the sight.
Finally, scanning the bottom of the list.
“Hmm, let's see... Alice Hayes.”
Alice, just rubbing her eyes awake on a second-year's back, blinked in confusion.
“...Huh? Is it over? What about the professor...?”
Han Seongjin gave Alice what he considered the kindest smile in the world.
“Ah, you're awake? Alice. Sleeping in class takes guts. You're my personal mark from today. We'll restart with basic fitness.”
Alice's face went whiter than flour. Lien patted her shoulder with pitying eyes.
Han Seongjin checked his watch: 1:45 PM.
“Class dismissed. The barrier will lift soon, and comms will restore. Injured, follow the TA to the infirmary. Rest, see you next week.”
He turned to leave, then paused and looked back.
“Oh, one more thing...”
Cracking his neck, he eyed the cadets.
“If you don't like me or my methods—or if today's unfair—come at me anytime. Sparring's always welcome.”
His gaze swept their faces. Most were dazed, but a few showed different emotions: fighting spirit, competitive fire, or something similar.
Not bad.
Han Seongjin smirked. They might make good sparring partners later.
He approached the barrier, stepped onto the ice platform, and thumped it.
A dull thunk echoed.
“Cadet Cecile Urnia? Sturdy work. But next time, prioritize speed over stability a bit less. Your comrades are superhumans. A little shake won't hurt.”
“Yes, sir!”
He patted Cecile's shoulder—where she leaned against the wall—then climbed over.
Moments later—
Thud—!
The massive barriers sank into the earth, revealing the academy once more. Distant monorail hum, building silhouettes, fresh air, clear skies. Peaceful normalcy returned, as if the crisis was a lie.
But for the 30—no, 29—cadets left on Field 5, normalcy was gone forever. They'd met a true monster, not just an academy professor.
“...We're screwed.”
“...Honestly, yeah.”
Ethan chuckled hollowly in agreement with Leo's words, speaking for them all.
After class that afternoon, Han Seongjin walked under the pouring sunlight, reviewing the lesson in his head.
Honestly, I thought just escaping would be impressive enough.
The cadets' response was stellar. They used their abilities aptly, showed great teamwork, and kept their mental state solid. Most people froze in sudden crises, but they'd overcome it well. Some were ready for real deployment.
The class had been rewarding for him too—not just the quiet satisfaction, but experiencing combat styles he'd never faced. Proficiency with tentacles, resistance to attacks, fighting solely with them. Yeah, more sparring was key. Data accumulated into experience and skill. He grew stronger, they grew stronger. Win-win.
Time to tweak the curriculum. They're higher level than expected.
A smile crept onto Han Seongjin's face. Before he knew it, he'd grown hooked on teaching.>