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DATE:11th of May, the 70th year after the Coronation
LOCATION: Concord Metropolis
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I woke up with a girl in my arms. It was Alice. For once I awakened before her. This wasn't good, but I wasn't sure whether to be angry with her or myself. On one hand, I was so tired she basically raped me; on the other hand, it was my responsibility to run away. Didn't think she had it in her, though it probably wasn't forceful from the girl's perspective. I was just too tired to say no.
I suppose it isn't terrible though. She may trust me more now... Yet she already did, so that is kind of redundant.
She felt really soft, like some kind of plushie. Grabbing her arms, I still don't understand how her muscles are camouflaged under this delicate skin. One so smooth you would think she never lifted a spoon in her life.
And our duel yesterday—I probably exaggerated. Yes, if my goal was making it seem like I was starting from scratch, the techniques I displayed were higher level than most... I admit I didn't want to lose to such a small woman. But how exactly is she so skilled? I've never seen Alice train. Not once.
Is being a hero all genetic? Can you even have muscles just on a genetic basis? It was so strange.
I may be just paranoid, but I believe I know why Alice is so attracted to me. Perhaps it is true that she sees me as a hardworking man, 'full of passion', but that is probably because I remind her of UltraMan. Yes, these qualities of her mentor do not charm her in a nostalgic way, as a vain way to cling to the past and remember him. No, judging by her thought process, the answer is much more cliché.
This girl felt 'changed' by her idolatry for UltraMan or heroes. It is not an exaggeration to speculate that she saw him, at least in part, romantically.
I didn't really mention because it wasn't part of my job, but UltraMan is—was—married. Of course, he was already in a relationship with his current, former wife by the time he took Alice as an apprentice. But by the amount of delusion she has, I wouldn't be surprised if she expected some kind of greater bond other than being one of his 'few' apprentices.
If that was the case, wouldn't a similar being to her former mentor fill that role?
Of course, if I was to make this assumption about anyone else, it would be a great overstatement, but "she" lives her life as if in a book. It makes a lot of sense. Why otherwise would she like someone her mentor's age so much? Everyone acts like me and Alice are peers, but I am 10 years older than her. Is my skin care so good?
I woke up quite early today as the sun hadn't yet risen, but I couldn't sleep because I had to go to the bathroom. I wanted to rise from the bed, but Alice was using my hand as a pillow and I certainly didn't wish to share the awkward moments of being here with her.
If she goes on a monologue about how 'we were meant to be', I'll kill myself.
She was very light even when resting on my hand. It wasn't sore at all. How does the world's physics work for this woman?!
Eventually I gave up and dragged my arm from under her body, but I don't know what she thought was happening. Half-asleep, she started cuddling. At this point it was her fault, so I poked her ear with my nose and whispered softly:
"I need to peeee~" I should kill myself.
Even in her barely aware state, I could feel Alice brighten in embarrassment and she let go of my body.
In that dark, unlit bathroom I meditated on my life choices leading up to this before going back to her bed.
I thought about leaving, but I was currently naked. Another matter was that offending her would nullify the whole suffering I went through. So screw it.
I slept pretty badly for another hour or two until I could see the shining rays of the morning through the window. Lazily, I pulled on my trousers and went to my room. It was about eight in the morning from what I could see on my clock.
My classes started at 10 on Fridays, but I didn't feel like sleeping anymore, so I got dressed and went on a rare morning jog.
It was much colder than the usual weather in Cordon. Was it the morning current from the sea?
For once in this damned stay in Concord, I didn't have my nose irritated by sand. I could finally breathe clean air.
What was clear was that I needed to buy a phone with a SIM card. Actually, my current one works fine—I just have to buy a card for it. I found an open shop at the corner of a building.
Stepping into the SIM shop, I immediately noticed how out of sync it felt with the rest of the building. The apartment complex outside was pristine, sleek, and modern, with its glass facades and polished edges. But this shop—it felt old, much older than it had any right to be in a place like this. The walls were scuffed, and the wooden counter looked worn down, like it had been in use for decades, though the building itself couldn't be more than a few years old.
The shelves were stocked with outdated phone cases, chargers that looked like they belonged to models from years ago. Even the lighting had a strange yellowish hue, a stark contrast to the cool, modern lighting I'd passed under just moments before in the lobby of the building. The faint hum of an aging air conditioner in the corner added to the sense that this place hadn't quite kept up with the times.
The shopkeeper barely glanced up as I entered, their attention fixed on something behind the counter, a device that looked a little too advanced for the rest of the shop's aesthetic. I wasn't sure what it even was that he was currently touching. A computer piece? A weapon? The whole place had an odd, mismatched energy, like it didn't belong here, yet had been rooted in this spot long before the new building had risen around it.
And then there was that back corner—a patch of peeling wallpaper, curling at the edges. It was strange to see in such a well-maintained area, almost like it had been forgotten. There was a faint scent of something, like old paper or dust that had settled over time, a stark contrast to the sterile modernity of the world outside.
As I browsed the shelves, I couldn't help but feel like this shop had a past—something hidden beneath its outdated façade. It was as if time had moved forward for the building but stopped dead for this shop. And the way the shopkeeper occasionally glanced toward the back of the store only deepened that feeling. There was something here, something that didn't quite fit with the present, and I had the odd sensation that if I lingered too long, I might stumble across something I wasn't meant to find.
But still, that was none of my concern!
I wondered whether the shopkeeper would even have SIM cards here, but he surprisingly had some.
The one he gave me was jet black and had no contact pins, but curiously enough worked perfectly. I, in fact, did a data test and got the highest speed I ever received on a mobile device, even if the device itself was so old.
What data company even was this?
The man didn't know. He said he didn't care about these things. That the product was a failure from his point of view. That certainly wasn't suspicious... But I wasn't stupid enough to ask.
Anyway, I paid him the 50 Zols he required for this prepaid card and went on my way.
About 10 minutes later I got a call from Alice. Apparently today was the final student exam that I mentioned yesterday. Today was a Saturday and not a Friday. Oh well.
I returned to my dorm room where I was greeted by a package from the professor. Seems like the new formula arrived.
In it was a letter and two small boxes. One had vials similar to the substance he formerly sent, just that they now had "Super" etched onto them. The other had packets of... leaves? I don't really know.
The letter explained them as a physical, lighter form of the drugs? He used quite a bit of jargon, but they were basically nicotine pouches I was supposed to keep in my mouth. He said that the effect might be smaller, but that I could use my ability much more often before I got any side effects.
I suppose I should test that.
The tournament was later in the day, so I put one near my gums, got my pellet gun, and went to the underground training center.
After a few tries I could say that the dose is way weaker. I am surprised my body even recognizes it for the ability activation. If cocaine had a 99.9999% and his "Super©®™" had 99%, the "mini" had a 70% negation to time's speed?
So it is easier to say that I was twice as fast as a normal human? No, the world was moving at a third of its speed. So a Beretta of 380m/s would go from 0.00038m/s to 3.8m/s to now 114m/s. Not quite a "bullet time" anymore, though I suppose this was more so meant as a general fighting enhancer. At least from what I see of the professor's notes.
I quickly left to not meet Mr. Perfect again and got dressed in my teacher outfit. I suppose this style imposed by John did catch on.
I saw Aku avoiding me by going to the garden. I remember how he fucked me over. Yeah, he was the one who told Zilliam, right? How else would she hear?
When I got closer I used my ability to give him a punch to the head before he noticed me, planting his face straight into some flowers.
"Aku, you fuck. How is it going?" I said, my tone mocking.
"What?! William?"
"Did it feel good to snitch me to Zilliam straight after that puny warning of yours? Haha?" I didn't let him respond, but turned around his body and pressed my knees on his lungs.
"Fuck, I didn't do it!"
"Sure you didn't!" I started slugging his face with heavy punches. Aku tried to push me, but with this newfound speed he wasn't on my level. I gave him an especially hard punch and I heard his nose crack.
"You think I am an amateur?"
"Get off me! Help! Somebody!" His pathetic cries were in vain as the students that usually litter this place were preparing for the physical exam.
Getting bored, I clenched my fists together and started bashing his skull.
"Open your mouth already. You are still a bitch, Aku." He gave out an inhuman roar and I got off him before Aku managed to catch hold of me. He morphed halfway into some kind of horned beast—bullhead? demon? Whatever his power was, those teeth looked sharp.
"What do you know about me?" Such a stupid bozo. I took out my final weapon from the chef, a gift I found between the stuff I bought. It was a leveled-up taser. A 150k volt taser to be precise. Extremely illegal. It was in the shape of a police baton.
I started the device and pressed it in bullet time to the temple of... whatever creature Aku was turning into to do the maximum damage. I held it there for a few seconds while dodging his pathetic attempts to slash me until his brain was fried and he collapsed. I hope I didn't kill him since I needed some information. Aku subsequently returned to his normal body.
Electrocution was a good idea because it may also induce short-term memory loss. Hopefully I wouldn't have to deal with the injuries I gave him.
I waited around for the old man to wake up while I looked at the flowers. With such a small dosage I couldn't feel the ghost at all. Was it even here anymore? Perhaps I freed it when I killed the Dean. I hope not. This ruffian needs to suffer alone for all eternity.
________
At some point Aku groaned himself awake from the pain. It seems like he remembered my pummeling, so I also showed him the stick to remind him what happens from resisting.
"Alright, alright! I'll explain..."
"Go on."
"I really didn't tell the Dean!" I turned up the zapper in annoyance. It was strong enough that I could feel the air snapping from its force.
"I mean it! Look, the Dean knew about your scheme since you first found the key. She told me to keep an eye on you because you..."
"Because I what?"
"Because you smelled like a murderer. No matter how much you keep that false appearance, you reek of blood!" That was a metaphor, obviously. I can't reek of blood if I clean myself, right?... Whatever.
"So?"
"She told me to tell her if you ever went into the warehouse... But she already knew! She has some form of control over the area, knowing who is where at any time. Putting me in it was just for confirmation."
"Right... And I shouldn't kill you... why? Didn't you say I am a murderer?"
His face was pale and I could feel his piggish breath quicken pace.
"Me? I—... No, Am—what??" Who do these people think they are? Him and Sasha too. Why do they boast with such pride that they know I can kill them? Isn't that just prompting me to do it? Like pulling the horns of a bull.
"I don't—don't want, NO I don't wan-t"
"To die? Then shut the hell up. I smell of blood, so what? It could be from a butcher's shop."
"No, it isn't."
I raised my hand ready to zap him again. I don't get why he even tries to cover himself as this thing goes through cloth.
"Bitch, do you actually want to die? Who argues over semantics with their life on the line?"
"But I—"
"Shut the hell up." I shocked him halfway into unconsciousness. It is clear these people never actually fought with villains. They take me as a joke? Why else would they risk their lives so foolishly? Isn't it common sense to not argue with someone who holds your life like a string?
"It is clear the Dean messed up your brain if you mouth out such falsities. Haaah. I didn't come here to kill you and I won't tell the police about your involvement."
"You won't?"
"No. So live your goddamn life, old man. Stop being held back by others' trauma. The ghost isn't 'your' wife."
As I got back to the dorms I realized Aku didn't even know about the ghost. He sure froze when I mentioned it. Guess that must have been quite a revelation. Huh... He wasn't even aware why he kept the garden in perfect form with such rigorous effort.
Anyway, I changed my dirt-stained trousers for another pair and did laundry until the exam started.
Eventually I showed up to the arena for exam supervision. Luckily for me, I didn't have to fight the superpowered students—just supervise their duels so that no one gets hurt too badly.
The first one I was in charge of was between a freckled nerd and some popular girl stereotype. Was that Sylvia? I barely remember her. Am I supposed to keep their names in mind?
The freckled kid stood on one side of the arena, nervous energy written all over him, glasses crooked. I think his last name was Morris. Like Silvian Morris? Strange coincidence.
The girl across from him had that confident smirk you see on people who've never actually lost anything that matters. This should be interesting.
The kid moved first. His hands lit up with faint blue energy—telekinetic, obviously. He sent some scattered objects from the arena flying at her. Great, another telekinetic. It's not like there are dozens of them already running around this place.
She countered with a flick of her hand, creating some kind of shimmering golden shield that deflected everything. Light powers. Of course. Do these people shape their lives by choosing classes from RPGs?
And wait—wasn't Sylvia's ability hypnosis or something? Am I confusing her with someone else? I should have paid more attention. Then again, why would I?
The boy pushed his glasses up and got serious. The entire arena seemed to compress—he was manipulating gravity, making everything heavier. Look at him with his anime protagonist energy. It reminded me of what Alice can do, but the intensity was more spread out. From what I've seen, she has to focus on specific targets. This kid was just blanketing the area.
The girl stumbled under the increased pressure, her confident smile finally slipping. Her knees buckled slightly. But she recovered faster than I expected, channeling her light into a series of laser-like blasts aimed straight at him.
The kid dove and rolled, throwing up a telekinetic barrier to shield himself. Smart enough. He retaliated by sending a shockwave that rippled the ground under her feet. Did he just try to earthquake the floor? Lilliam-style moves from a student. She nearly lost her balance but responded by creating blinding bursts of light that disoriented him for a moment.
I watched their powers clash—the kid's movements were more controlled and strategic at first, but he was burning through his energy reserves fast. His past displays of strength had clearly drained him. You could see it in how his barriers started weakening, how his gravity manipulation began to flicker.
Just as he was winding up for what looked like a desperate final strike, some guy with a ridiculous oversized hat in the gallery raised his hand and shoved both of them apart with telekinesis. Another supervisor, apparently.
Which raised an immediate question—if he was already here, why the hell was I called in? The guy shot me this disappointed look, as if silently asking why I didn't step in. What was I supposed to do, exactly? Jump into the middle of laser fire and knock them both out with a kick to the head? That wasn't in my job description.
No one had been seriously hurt, but it reminded me just how much raw power these students hold and how quickly things could escalate. I honestly find it scary how they treat this like it's normal. Just another Tuesday, throwing around enough force to kill someone.
I could see traits of extreme narcissism in both of them—the showboating, the unnecessary flourishes, endangering each other for style points. These are supposed to be future heroes? It doesn't seem that way to me.
And their power levels? They're one emotional outburst away from committing mass killing. What's the point of all this training if they're still this unstable?
This is just an estimate, but up to a third of all villains were former heroes. That might seem like a low percentage, but wasn't the whole reason for the existence of this academy to prevent superpowered youngsters from turning to crime? Personally, I find the statistic 30% too high. These two would fit right into that.
—
I stayed for three more fights after that, and to be honest, they all started blurring together. Same flashy powers, same over-the-top dramatics. It's like watching a superpowered soap opera where everyone's convinced they're the main character.
But one fight stood out—mainly because I actually recognized one of the combatants.
It was between a short-haired Asian girl who looked far too serious for what was supposed to be a school exam, and some guy with slicked-back hair and an unbuttoned shirt showing off his physique. I recognized him immediately. One of Sylvia's goons, the same fire-ability user who got his ego crushed by that black-haired kid yesterday. He still had a few bandages from that fight, though his nose looked surprisingly close to healed.
The two faced off, and I couldn't help but wonder if this guy had learned anything from his previous beating. I keep being told he's supposedly one of the stronger students here, as if that fact should matter to me. Strength without brains just means you're a bigger target.
The fight started. Fire guy immediately summoned flames in his hand and hurled a wave of fire at her, probably hoping to end things quickly. Because yeah, that aggressive approach worked so well for him yesterday.
But she was ready. The air around her rippled, and suddenly she vanished. The fire roared past where she'd been standing, hitting nothing but air.
She reappeared behind him and sent a blast of wind straight into his back. He staggered forward, barely catching himself. Wind powers, then. Interesting combination with whatever that disappearing act was.
The fight quickly turned into a one-sided game. He kept trying to unleash fireballs, pillars of flame, even attempted some kind of desperate fire tornado at one point. But she was too fast. Every time he thought he had her cornered, she blinked out of existence and reappeared somewhere else, striking him from another angle. The guy had all the aggression but none of the accuracy. Like watching someone play dodgeball with their eyes closed.
After several failed attempts, slick-hair was getting visibly frustrated. His flames grew wilder, more uncontrolled—burning bright but missing their target over and over. Meanwhile, the girl stayed completely calm, effortlessly dodging and weaving. She used her wind abilities to keep herself mobile and him constantly off balance. She wasn't flashy about it, but she didn't need to be. Every strike she made counted. Each gust of wind sent him stumbling, each dodge a reminder that she was operating on a completely different level.
I got curious enough to activate Bullet Time just as she was dodging another attack. The secret to her power? Just wind. Simple as that. She was using it to fly rapidly up to the high ceiling of the underground arena, then returning after the flames passed underneath. No teleportation, no spatial manipulation—just speed and vertical movement. That was... disappointing, honestly. I'd expected something more sophisticated.
Then, as the fire guy attempted to throw another fireball, she changed tactics. Instead of dodging, she faced it head-on, raising her hand and creating a swirling vortex of air that sucked the flames directly into it, neutralizing them completely. He was left standing there with a blank expression on his face, probably realizing he'd just had his main weapon rendered useless.
With his fire neutralized and his energy clearly flagging, she moved in to finish it. A concentrated gust of wind hit him square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying across the arena. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, his flames sputtering out as his still-fragile nose broke for the second time in two days.
The fight was over. She didn't say a word—just gave him this look that said, "Next time, don't bother." Cold. Professional.
He groaned on the ground, probably wondering how he'd managed to lose twice in as many days. At least this time he'd have some fresh bandages to match the old ones.
I made a mental note about the girl. Chou, I think her name was. Competent, tactical, didn't waste movement or energy. The kind of person who could actually be dangerous if she decided to be. Unlike the fire guy, who was just loud.
***
I took a break while it was Mr. Perfect's turn. In that podium I could hear a lot of the students snickering about this last fight. Apparently the shortie is well known. Not like it makes a difference to me.
Alice found me on a couch in the waiting area and started praising me for my 'performance' from the night before. What was this? After-game strategy analysis? It took me great effort to not cringe at her remarks, so I thought about changing the subject to what we would be doing after we leave the academy. Big mistake... She started fantasizing out loud about how we should move in together. Did she think we were a couple? Personally I hoped it was a one-night stand, but it doesn't seem like it...
I suggested we should go on a date to once again change this uncomfortable subject. Another mistake.
I thought of doing one of those 'ahh, it would be so great to meet up, but our calendar doesn't meet up,' but I forgot that she literally doesn't have anything to do after school. Her graphic design work is placed at the same time as the teaching so she does both at the same time...
I got myself a date tomorrow... Yippee...
***
I got saved from more commitments by the bell—specifically, the finale of the tournament. All teachers were needed since the safety bounds were released. We really needed to make sure no one died.
The contestants? One was the black-haired kid from yesterday, the one who'd beaten up fire guy. Not surprising—the kid had actual skill. The other took me a second to place. Black pupils, always lurking around Sylvia. Yakov, that was his name. He had this eerie, quiet confidence that was unsettling in a "he might actually know what he's doing" kind of way. The pure black pupils didn't help his appearance either—kid looked like he belonged in a horror movie.
If Sylvia wasn't in the finale and he was, that had to mean something. He might even be stronger than her. Worth paying attention to, at least.
The arena felt heavier as they stepped in. Everyone knew this was going to be different. No more holding back. Great, more potential death to supervise.
—
The match started and the black-haired kid—Johnathan something—wasted no time. He dashed forward with a series of swift strikes, each one precise and calculated. Not just brute force, then. The kid had strategy.
Yakov stood his ground, completely unfazed. With a flick of his wrist, shadows coiled around him, forming some kind of dark shield that absorbed the incoming blows like they were nothing. The same shadows he used to perceive his surroundings with. I could see why Sylvia kept him around—this was legitimately impressive.
The black-haired kid adjusted his approach and unleashed a wave of kinetic energy. A shockwave rippled through the arena hard enough that I felt it from my position. But Yakov melded with the shadows and vanished from sight just in time to evade the blast.
Now that was actually impressive. He could literally disappear—not the fake flying trick that Asian girl used earlier. This was genuine shadow manipulation.
Yakov emerged from the darkness behind the black-haired kid and swept a kick at him. The kid rolled to the side—barely missed by inches—and immediately retaliated with a burst of energy. Yakov countered by summoning shadow tendrils that wrapped around the blast and redirected it harmlessly into the ground.
This was becoming a game of one-upmanship. Neither one willing to give an inch.
The arena filled with the sounds of impact as they exchanged blows. The black-haired kid fought with fierce determination, using his agility to keep Yakov constantly reacting. Yakov relied on his ability to blend into shadows and counterattack with precision. It was actually engaging to watch—a fluid back-and-forth where both seemed evenly matched.
The black-haired kid started strategizing. He feinted left, then right, drawing Yakov in. Just as Yakov moved to strike, he unleashed a concentrated burst of kinetic energy aimed at Yakov's feet. Yakov stumbled.
Smart move.
Seeing the opening, the black-haired kid lunged forward with a flurry of punches that pushed Yakov back several steps. But the shadow manipulator wasn't done. With a swift motion, he summoned a dark wave that swept through the arena, engulfing the black-haired kid entirely in shadows.
Just when it seemed like Yakov had gained the upper hand, the black-haired kid focused his energy and broke free from the shadows, unleashing a brilliant flash of light that illuminated the entire arena. It momentarily blinded Yakov—and half the spectators, including me. That was a bold fucking move.
The kid charged forward while Yakov was still disoriented and launched a powerful strike that connected solidly with his midsection. Yakov crashed to the ground. The arena erupted in cheers.
The black-haired kid stood there breathing heavily but victorious. Yakov was slower to rise, looking dazed but still determined. The fight had clearly pushed both of them to their limits, but the black-haired kid had proven himself.
I glanced at the other teachers. Most of them looked relieved—no one had been turned into a shadowy pancake this time. All except Ackerman. He actually looked disappointed no one got seriously hurt. He had a hard time hiding it. Did someone die in a previous tournament? That would explain the excessive safety precautions.
The temporary principal—the English teacher whose name I'd already forgotten—announced the black-haired kid as champion. Johnathan Ulkip, apparently. I left during the ceremony.
I thought about what he said yesterday, "What do I care?" and he was right. This guy probably had a year-long journey to win this tournament, with struggles and happiness, ups and downs, yet I didn't pay any mind to even remember his name. It really doesn't matter what happens to him now, does it?
I thought I would run into Sasha outside the facility, but luckily for me she was still in the hospital. I hope we don't meet in this last week I have at the Academy.
We spent the rest of the night throwing a celebration in the teacher's lounge with different types of wine. I think it was also meant as a way to distract everyone from what happened with the Dean. Ackerman told me he 'didn't think I had it in me', but I don't know what he meant by that.
I didn't like the alcohol, but that is also because I don't like wine. Or no, better said that I don't like hangovers? Almost overdosing is already painful.
The others really went overboard. They became a mess of slurred words, openly expressing their dissatisfaction with the others for the first time ever from my perspective.
I especially hated how Alice tried to kiss me under the effects of the alcohol. I don't want these drunk talkative bastards annoying me with so many questions. At the very least she had the decency to not say we were in a relationship or any exaggeration like that. But it still made rounds. I hate their ugly mugs. I am done.
That night I slept quite badly. My head hurts.
***