Chapter 92: A Week Later. Awakened Combat Class
After death, life moved on, and it was somehow funny how quickly it moved. Even right after what was left of David was buried, some people went to arcades and karaoke. Such was reality, especially one where the world was standing at the edge of a steep mountain. Just a shove and it would plunge to its death. The apocalypse was breathing down their necks, buzzing in their ears like a mosquito that had no interest in drinking blood yet.
The week-long break for the rift survivors was finally over. Thankfully, every person who was unawakened before they entered the rift had awakened, and that too, with powerful abilities and high ranks. As much as the blue rift was... dangerous, it was also a blessing in disguise. Why?
The blue rift expedition was recorded as one of the expeditions with the best results in the last 5 years nationwide, and the reason was because of the ranks of the awakened students, headed by Chloe. The lowest rank was a C-Rank, with more in B-Rank, and around 6 in A-Rank. They even got an S-Rank, putting them as the top academy in City A, and the second best in New Liberty.
All this wasn’t important to Silas at the moment, as he was caught up in a very... delicate situation. They were currently in Awakened Combat Class, one of the many courses students took to train their battle skills and psyche. It was a compulsory course, facilitated by one of the scariest teachers in Valecrest. The teacher, who went by the name Sir Garnet Wesley, was a very elusive and quiet teacher, but just the mention of his name was enough to make people shake in their shoes.
It wasn’t because he was powerful, which he actually was, but because of his training methods. In his class, no one was allowed to use their abilities. The penalty for that was... unknown, but it was severe. It was severe to the extent that all those who’d experienced it before were scared to even speak about it.
In Sir Wesley’s class, everyone was expected to wear weights. Because of technological advancements, the weights have been made into small bracelets that you put on your wrists and ankles. The bracelet weights could be adjusted, but in his class, the requirement was 50 kilograms or more. Nothing less, and you had to do everything with the weights on.
Silas’s situation wasn’t because of the weights. Well, there was another situation with that, but it wasn’t as delicate. The dress code for that class was the academy’s tracksuit, which was a full tracksuit for the males, blue with white details, perfectly normal. For the females, they wore a white jacket, but it was a short and slightly tight one, exposing their bellies and accentuating their chests, with a pair of blue sweatpants, which were strangely tight around their butts and thighs. Sometimes, Silas wondered who exactly made them, because the person was obviously a pervert. And that was the cause of his delicate situation.
Standing directly in front of him was Chloe, her snow-white hair tied into a high ponytail that swayed gently with every stretch.
"One... two... three..."
The entire class moved in unison under Sir Wesley’s watchful gaze. Arms overhead, side stretch, forward bend, simple exercises meant to loosen the muscles before the real torture began. Silas, however, had discovered an unexpected challenge.
’Or maybe the universe just hates me...’
His eyes wandered for exactly half a second before he mentally slapped himself.
’Don’t look.’ He looked. ’...Idiot.’
Chloe was completely focused on the stretches, her expression as cold and composed as ever. She moved with effortless grace, her posture perfect, with every motion controlled. She looked as though she were demonstrating the stretches rather than participating in them. The awakening had really changed her into a better and more efficient version of herself, but the same couldn’t be said for our boy, Silas. He immediately looked toward the ceiling.
’Focus. You’re a warrior. You’re an S-Rank. You killed an Orc King. You have dignity.’
He didn’t have an ounce of dignity.
[Current dignity level: rapidly decreasing.]
’Not helping.’
[Never claimed I would.]
Silas exhaled slowly, trying to redirect his attention. The weights around his wrists and ankles felt reassuringly heavy. One hundred and fifty kilograms... each. When Sir Wesley had seen Silas casually carrying equipment meant for several students before class had even begun, he’d quietly adjusted the bracelets himself.
"One hundred and fifty," That had been all he’d said, and no one argued with Sir Wesley. The extra weight made every stretch noticeably harder. His shoulders burned, and his calves protested. Even breathing required more effort than normal. Unfortunately, his body had decided that physical strain wasn’t today’s biggest problem.
’Seriously...?’ He shut his eyes. ’Think of something else. Taxes... Homework... Damien’s face.’
That one almost worked.
[You possess the bloodline closest to Cupid. Did you truly expect perfect emotional restraint?]
’I expected better timing.’
[Life rarely provides that.]
A whistle echoed through the gym.
"Silas." His eyes snapped open, and he saw that Sir Wesley was looking directly at him.
"Eyes forward."
"...Yes, sir."
The instructor continued walking as though nothing had happened. Silas released a breath of relief.
’That was close.’
Beside him, Chloe quietly turned her head.
"You’re unusually distracted today."
"Am I?"
"You’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past minute."
"I was appreciating the architecture."
She slowly looked up; the ceiling was plain white concrete, and she looked back at him with the same expressionless face.
"You’re a terrible liar."
Before Silas could respond, Sir Wesley’s voice boomed across the training hall.
"Warm-up ends now!"
Every student instinctively stood at attention. The atmosphere shifted in an instant. The easy stretching was over; now came the part everyone feared. Sir Wesley folded his arms behind his back and swept his gaze across the room.
"Today, we find out how much the rift spoiled all of you."
Several students visibly swallowed. Even Alicia straightened. Victor unconsciously adjusted his weighted bracelets, while Christian whispered a quick prayer under his breath. Sir Wesley’s eyes narrowed.
"No abilities. No excuses. And... No mercy."
A faint smile, one that promised suffering, appeared on the veteran instructor’s face.
"Let’s begin."