The man in black who stood at the front straightened his back slightly, as though preparing to deliver a decree that would alter the course of the entire room's future.
"We want you," he began, his voice level and direct, "to be promoted."
A murmur rippled across the classroom.
"To a Second Semester F-Class Superhero."
And just like that—the room exploded into stunned, shocked, electrified silence.
Eyes widened.
Mouths fell open.
Pens and gadgets were dropped onto desks.
The wave of disbelief that rushed through the room was visible—palpable—like watching a mental earthquake unfold in real time.
For several of the students, especially the ones who had been here since orientation, this was unheard of.
An impossibility.
An insult. A legend crashing into their mundane lives like a meteor through soft wood.
"…He—what?"
"No way."
"You mean Second Semester? As in, skipping half a year?"
"Dude, I haven't even passed two beginner missions…"
