Several students close enough to hear him reacted to what they'd heard. One commoner girl turned her head slightly, but then quickly looked away in panic. Two nobles farther down the row exchanged glances. Some whispered behind us.
Taron didn't seem to care.
Or perhaps he did, but chose not to.
I eventually looked forward.
"No. Do as you wish."
A smirk tugged at his mouth.
"I guess I will."
'Naturally.'
More students glanced at us as the room continued to fill. Many commoners looked curious. Many nobles looked confused, irritated, or carefully neutral. A few looked as if Taron had committed a minor political crime just by sitting beside me without shame.
I interestingly found that I cared less than I had expected.
'Perhaps exhaustion does have its benefits.'
The room's conversations began to quieten down when the class door opened again.
Professor Anlor had entered.
His steps weren't loud, nor did they need to be.
He moved with the smooth confidence of someone accustomed to rooms adjusting around his presence. His uniform was immaculate, dark fabric cut in clean academic lines and finished with subtle silver-grey embroidery. His hair was long, dark, and windswept, falling in uneven layers around his face and trailing past his shoulders with a deliberate wildness that contrasted sharply with the precision of his clothing. His features were lean and severe, his expression composed, and his eyes remained calm in a way that felt less gentle than carefully measured. Even standing still, there was something heavy about him, as though restraint rather than effort was what kept his presence contained.
He looked polished.
Respectable.
Refined.
And unfortunately, that, as I was beginning to learn, was often the most precarious kind of person to deal with in this Academy.
Professor Anlor reached the centre of the floor and turned to face us.
"Good morning, students," he said.
His voice carried clearly without obvious amplification.
"Welcome to Anti-Beast Tactics. For those who selected this elective because you believe it will teach you how to cut down monsters with dramatic spellwork heroically, I suggest you abandon that notion immediately."
A few students shifted in their seats, surprised by the professor's blunt statement.
Taron leaned toward me and whispered, "That was definitely aimed at a few people in this room."
"Maybe more."
"Maybe me."
"Most likely you."
He looked wounded.
Professor Anlor continued.
"This course is not about glory. It's about survival, classification, movement, your ability to respond, and judge. A beast encounter is not a duel. Beasts do not care about honour, rank, lineage, or whether your family has spent several decades convincing itself it deserves applause for simply existing."
That earned a few uncomfortable looks from the noble side of the room, as well as a few smiles and jeers from the commoner side.
It was certainly interesting.
Professor Anlor didn't openly flatter nobles.
At least not yet.
"However," he said, "it would also be foolish to pretend that all beasts are enemies."
A projection appeared behind him.
A slew of images appeared on the screen. Forests, plains, riverbanks, and distant mountain habitats unfolded across the wall in moving images.
"Across Elyndra, many beast species live in stable harmony with humans and their settlements. A lot of them avoid us. Some cooperate indirectly. Some have become domesticated. Most potentially hostile populations are found toward the continent's outer territories, border wildlands, deep forests, highlands, and regions where Aether density fluctuates unpredictably."
"Just like that Ember Warg I faced back in the Basin," I mumbled.
The projection shifted to an image of Valoria, but seen from above, similar to how a satellite projects images back on my old world.
"Valoria in itself has a hostile beast presence that is effectively zero. Between the Academy, the Ten Great Houses, constant city patrols, and environmental regulation arrays, anything dangerous enough to threaten civilians is either redirected, contained, or eliminated long before reaching the capital."
Ryn would have hated the way he said that.
It sounded too effortless.
Too easy.
Too true.
Because places like the Basin did not get to use sentences like that.
Sentences that assured complete safety.
Professor Anlor turned slightly, and the projection changed again.
This time, a creature appeared.
It resembled a wolf only in the broadest outline. Its frame was leaner than a natural predator's, almost starved, built more for endurance and menace than fleshly strength, with long limbs and a narrow body wrapped in coarse black fur. Two dark horns rose from its skull and curved forward in a cruel sweep, giving its silhouette something unnatural even before the eye reached its face. Faint pale markings traced themselves across its body as old runes pressed into hide, and its stare carried the cold, intelligent stillness of something that was not merely hunting, but choosing.
"There is a term you will hear frequently in this course," Anlor said. "Aethren."
The word appeared behind him.
"Aethren are hostile beasts capable of using Aether actively. Not merely beasts influenced by Aether. Not simply mutated creatures. Aethren possess functional Aetheric pathways, instinctive spell-like behaviours, and varying degrees of tactical adaptation."
The room became quiet in earnest.
"The wolf-like thing you see on the screen is called a Thyrak; this particular one being a Hookhorn Thyrak. It's a B-rank Aethren."
'B-rank? I thought they were characterised as apex, elite and standard.'
"Their ranking system is more linear than that of ours," Anlor continued. "While human core stages measure comprehension, control, and advancement through principles and experience. Aethren classification is based primarily on observed threat level, Aether output, physical danger, adaptability, and containment difficulty."
Letters appeared in descending order behind him.
S.
A.
B.
C.
D.
E.
F.
"F-rank Aethren are dangerous to untrained civilians but manageable for students like you with basic field preparation. E-rank and D-rank present increasing risk. C-rank Aethren are not appropriate targets for most first-years and some second-years under ordinary circumstances. B-rank and above require specialised teams, experienced mages, or direct faculty intervention."
He paused.
Then, adding at the end with almost casual cruelty, added, "Oh, and for reference, the Apex beast Professor Seris told you to avoid is only C-rank."
The room erupted.
Not enough to become chaotic, but close enough to lose control of the room.
Students whispered sharply. Several commoners went pale. A noble near the front straightened as if he had just reconsidered his entire future. Someone behind me muttered something that sounded like a prayer.
I looked at Taron.
Taron looked at me.
His smile had become awkward and nervous.
My eyebrows were raised.
"Only C-rank, huh," he said softly.
"That is not a comforting thought."
"No," Taron said. "No, it certainly is not."