As I got lost in my thoughts, the sound of clapping snapped me back to the present.
The headmaster had finished handing out medals to the overachievers — all smiles, applause, and hollow words about bravery, sacrifice, and the future of Lumania.
After another minute of ceremonial rambling, we were finally dismissed to our classrooms.
I moved with the stream of students, feet dragging a little more than necessary.
The day had only just begun, and I was already knee-deep in things I'd rather not deal with.
What a beautiful start to the week.
The only real win?
That heavy storm of grief — the leftover weight from Edward's shattered life — had finally started to lose its edge. Not entirely gone, just… quieter. Muted. Like a hurricane that spent itself screaming and finally settled into silence.
I don't know if it's emotional fatigue or my soul finally overriding his.
Either way, I'll take the peace while it lasts.
The academy's corridors stretched endlessly — wide halls of polished grey stone, lined with flickering blue mana-lamps embedded in rune-carved sconces. Students murmured, laughed, yawned. Life continued.
Eventually, I stopped in front of the Class B door.
Took a breath. Opened it.
The classroom was what you'd expect from a prestigious magic academy: high ceilings, smooth floors, desks carved from mana-treated wood, and floating crystal lights overhead that adjusted brightness based on ambient mana flow.
A runed blackboard covered the front wall, glowing faintly in standby mode.
Students were slowly settling into their seats. Some were already gossiping in tight circles. Others leaned on their desks, half-asleep or scrolling through their phones.
I made my way to Edward's seat — a spot near the window, just a little ahead of the last row.
Honestly, it wasn't a bad choice. Quiet corner, good view of the training field outside, and just far enough from the front to avoid the teacher's direct line of fire. Strategic.
I sat down.
His — my — books and gear were already tucked inside the desk drawer.
Guess Edward never bothered to clean out his stuff.
Kind of symbolic, really.
Like even in his last days at the academy, he was still holding on.
Before I could think too deeply about it, the classroom bell rang, sharp and punctual.
The chatter died down.
The door opened.
And in walked a man who looked like he belonged on a battlefield, not behind a podium.
Tall, built like a seasoned knight, with bright red hair that practically glowed under the crystal lights. His brown eyes scanned the room like a hawk looking for weakness. White dress shirt, formal black pants — sleeves rolled up to reveal veiny, muscular forearms that could probably crush a skull without effort.
This was Credic Crimson — our homeroom teacher and one of Lumania's few active S-rank heroes.
A living legend… and an absolute hardass.
He didn't say a word at first.
Just stood there. Silent. Watching.
His gaze moved slowly across the classroom, like he was mentally counting heads — and maybe also tallying disappointments.
Only after confirming everyone was present did he finally speak.
"Good morning."
His voice was deep. Sharp. The kind that didn't need to yell to command attention.
"I see all of you managed to show up. Bare minimum achieved."
A pause.
"I hope you made good use of your weekend — training, preparing, sharpening your weaknesses... not lazing around like deadweights."
The last part had a definite sting of sarcasm.
Pretty sure he still hasn't gotten over the fact that our class lost to Class A in the recent inter-class competition.
Not like it was that big a deal.
I mean, shouldn't you be glad we lost?
If we'd won, it would've been our class on that trip.
And maybe we'd be the ones with three names on the memorial list.
But hey — priorities, right?
"I won't waste any more of your time," Credic said, his tone sharp and business-like. "Let's begin today's lesson."
Crimson stepped up to the board and tapped a panel. The lights dimmed slightly, and a glowing blue screen appeared behind him.
"Today's class will be about dungeon beasts — their behavior, attack patterns, and most importantly, their weaknesses."
An image of a grotesque creature flickered onto the screen. One of those mutated horrors you don't want to see in real life — especially not while you're low on mana and cornered.
He started explaining — naming the species, its classification level, typical lair patterns, and how it behaved when wounded or enraged. The lecture was clean and precise. Each weak point circled, each tactic broken down with examples.
For most students, this was vital knowledge.
And yeah, it actually was important.
Especially for people who wanted to live past their first dungeon dive.
Know your enemy, they say.
Still…
A class is a class.
Even with all the exciting monster facts and potential death scenarios, after a while, the words started blending into background noise.
Eventually, the bell rang, ending the period.
Theory classes were always 45 minutes long. Practical ones — like combat, mana control, or field training — lasted around ninety minutes. Guess the logic was simple: you sweat more, you stay longer.
Just as students began moving, Crimson's voice cut across the noise.
"One moment."
Silence fell again.
"There are two things you should know before I leave."
He waited until the last whisper died.
"First — today will be a half-day. You're only required to attend the next two classes. The academy's still coordinating with the city and authorities after yesterday's incident."
A few relieved sighs echoed around the room.
Some tension lifted.
"And second," he continued, this time with a shift in tone. Not louder — just heavier. More pointed.
"There will be a first-year combat evaluation held next Friday. It will be mandatory."
A small wave of murmurs rippled through the class.
"Every first-year student will participate. Your opponent will be selected at random. Further information will be sent to your smartphones later this evening."
He paused. Eyes narrowing just slightly.
"And don't disappoint me... like you did in the past."
With that, he turned and left the room.
No dramatic exit. No parting glare.
Just gone.
The silence lasted only a moment before students started talking again. Some were curious. Some panicked. Some just excited about going home early.
I wasn't any of those.
I sat still, processing what he just said.
Combat class. Random opponent. Next Friday.
Then it clicked.
That's the same goddamn setup from the vision.
The same one where Edward got his ass handed to him by Leon.
Seriously, what the fuck is up with this pacing?
Everything's moving way too fast.
I mean, I just got transmigrated two days ago. Two. Days. And yet, here I am, already getting pulled into a classic one-sided beatdown like some mid-season filler villain.
It's like I've been thrown into a story that's already well into act two — character arcs established, plot threads tangled, drama peaking — and somehow, I missed the entire setup.
No introductions, no breathing room. Just straight into the meat grinder with no clue what role I'm supposed to play.
And worst of all? No one even bothered to hand me the damn script.
----
Author's Note:
Hey everyone, thanks for reading this chapter!
Things are finally starting to pick up in Edward's chaotic new life, huh? 👀 I really appreciate everyone who's stuck around so far — your support means a lot.
I'm still figuring out my pace as a writer (and yes, I know I'm a bit slow 😅), but I'm doing my best to keep the story flowing with consistent updates and solid development.
Let me know what you think about the vision, the upcoming combat class, or anything else in the comments — I'd love to hear your theories.
Thanks again for reading! More to come soon 🙏