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The Strongest Transcendent In History Is The Strongest
Chapter 1: The First Step into Transcendence
The enigmatic figure guides me directly to the principal's office, his voice taking on a serious tone as he states, "Follow me." Without hesitation, I comply, trailing behind him through the bustling hallways of the school, where an air of anticipation seems to hang over the atmosphere. Students rush past us, chatting animatedly and laughing, completely unaware of the gravity of our journey.
As we approach the door to the principal's office, the mysterious man stops and confidently opens it, revealing a spacious room filled with various academic accolades adorning the walls. Inside, the principal sits behind a large, polished desk, and upon seeing us enter, a wide grin spreads across his face. "Ah, I see you brought him with you. Good work, Zettai," he remarks, his voice warm yet authoritative.
Did someone say confused? I have to admit, I've never encountered the name Zettai before in my entire life. It feels as though I'm grasping at shadows, trying to piece together a puzzle whose parts are still obscured.
The enigmatic man seated before me, whom I have now come to realize is indeed Zettai, exhales a deep, resigned sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world. "I thought I could manage to keep this under wraps for a little longer than this," he admits, a hint of frustration weaving its way through his otherwise calm demeanor. It's evident that the revelations coming to light are not easy for him, and there's a sense of urgency that clings to his words.
Meanwhile, the principal—his smile never faltering—casually waves his hand through the air as though to dismiss the entire conversation as inconsequential. "Oh right, my apologies! I completely forgot about your notorious tendency to maintain an air of secrecy about your true identity," he chuckles, his nonchalance almost comical given the gravity of the moment. It seems that nothing can phase him, even on the cusp of unveiling such a significant figure.
Zettai composes himself, straightening his posture and allowing a serious expression to settle across his features. There's a resoluteness there that speaks volumes. "I suppose there's no point in hiding it any longer," he declares, his voice imbued with newfound determination. "Yes, that's correct. My name is Zettai."
I casually respond with a nonchalant tone, 'Oh, I see.' This simple statement conveys my understanding of the situation at hand, but I deliver it with an air of ease and familiarity. It reflects my relaxed demeanor and suggests that I have grasped the essence of what has been shared with me. The phrase carries an implicit acknowledgment, as if to say that I am not only attentive to the conversation but also open to the nuances of the discussion.
In a surprising yet theatrical gesture, Zettai pushes back the hood that obscures his face, revealing a mane of striking red hair that catches the light and a pair of piercing white eyes that seem to glint with intensity.
I speak in a tranquil tone, taking a moment to observe you closely. So, this is what you truly appear to be like when you're not wearing that hood that usually conceals your features. It's interesting to see your face unobscured, revealing the nuances of your expression and the individuality that your hood tends to hide. The absence of that familiar garment allows me to appreciate the details that make you uniquely you, giving me a glimpse into your true self, free from any shadowy cover.
"Yes, that is correct," he responds, his tone steadfast yet lacking any hostility, almost as if he's prepared for the shock but nonetheless finds it comforting to be recognized.
"Honestly, I thought you were something altogether different," I reply, feeling an intricate blend of disbelief and burgeoning respect for the enigmatic figure standing before me. It's remarkable how the reality of who he is challenges everything I previously imagined.
Zettai spoke with a serene demeanor, his voice steady and composed as he said, "Oh, absolutely! Magic is genuinely remarkable in its capabilities. Just imagine—if one were to master the art of magic, hone their skills, and cultivate precise control over its forces, the possibilities would be endless. With such adeptness, I could accomplish anything I desired, whether it be influencing the elements, bending time, or even shaping reality itself. The sheer potential that lies within mastering these mystical arts is nothing short of breathtaking."
I would describe my response as one that was given in a casual and relaxed manner, implying a sense of ease and lack of formality. It was as if I effortlessly accepted the suggestion or idea presented, without any significant hesitation or deliberation. My agreement came with a light-hearted demeanor, reflecting a nonchalant attitude towards the situation, indicating that I was comfortable and at ease with what was being discussed.
Just then, the principal interjects with his characteristic ease, his demeanor still relaxed despite the unfolding drama. "You can take him to class 1A now. His new teacher has been eagerly awaiting his arrival."
Zettai glances at the principal, a subtle nod of acknowledgment passing between them, and then turns toward me. With a purposeful stride, he steps forward, gesturing for me to follow him out of the room. As we move, I can't shake the feeling that I'm about to embark on a journey filled with mysteries yet to be unraveled, all connected to this enigmatic individual named Zettai.
As we make our way to the door of Classroom 1A, Zettai maintains a calm demeanor, breaking the silence by saying, "Well, we're here now." He opens the door, and inside, I am greeted by the sight of a vibrant classroom buzzing with energy.
Seated at the front is Shinpii, my new teacher, who possesses a dazzling head of yellow hair and bright cyan eyes. Her teacher's outfit appears both professional and inviting, suggesting a demeanor that balances authority with approachability. She is already waiting attentively for me, her expression welcoming yet inquisitive.
I step into the classroom with a deep breath, determined to make a good impression. "Hello, everyone. My name is Kiro Yatsu, and I hope to get along well with all of you today." My voice carries a mix of confidence and a hint of nervousness as all eyes turn towards me, each gaze filled with curiosity.
"Well, you should get along with him, guys," Shinpii remarks coolly, her tone encouraging, "he's new after all. Kiro Yatsu, you can take your seat in the back."
Grateful for her guidance, I make my way to the back of the classroom, where I find an empty seat next to a fellow student. Kurokami is her name, and she has long black hair that contrasts strikingly with her bright green eyes, all neatly framed by the standard school uniform.
Kurokami glances at me, her expression tinged with curiosity. Sensing her gaze, I turn to meet her eye, prompting her to speak. "What is it?" I ask, intrigued by her interest.
"How does a student of your caliber even end up at this school?" she inquires, her eyes narrowing as if trying to discern my secret. "The entrance test to get into this place is nearly impossible, and no average student like you could possibly achieve that. So how did you manage to get in?"
Calmly, I respond, a smirk forming on my lips, "Isn't that obvious?" The challenge in her gaze inspires a newfound determination within me, igniting my resolve to prove that I indeed belong here, regardless of what anyone might think.
To be continued...