The gazes that had originally looked down on Annie were all replaced by a look of ghost-like horror.
At the outermost edge of the crowd, a young girl leaning alone against the wall, adjusting her left wrist guard, suddenly lifted her eyelids.
She had long black hair with striking green highlights at the tips, which added a dangerous aura to her cold and elegant face; unlike the others, she didn't show fear, and a hint of interest flashed in her eyes as she stared at Annie.
"Stop! Everyone stop!"
The instructor finally reacted; he strode into the field, and his face turned ashen when he saw the big man on the ground who was about to go into shock from the pain.
This was far too ruthless!
This was a sparring session for newcomers reporting on their first day, not an execution of prisoners of war!
"Cadet Leonhart!" The instructor suddenly turned his head and stared at Annie, roaring in a stern tone, "I told you to stop when the point is made! This is the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, a place to train Agents, not the Soviet Union's Red Room, and certainly not a Nazi concentration camp! Do you have to cripple your classmate?!"
Facing the instructor's anger, Annie only tilted her head slightly.
"Report, Instructor, I don't think I'm to blame."
Annie's voice was cold and flat, with no emotional fluctuations.
"I only kicked once..."
"..." The instructor was choked by her words.
He opened his mouth, looked at the two-hundred-pound man on the ground, then at the petite Annie, and was actually at a loss for words for a moment.
Speechless.
Because the facts were indeed so; everyone present, including the instructor, had seen it—Annie had only made one move.
It was just a low sweep, and then... there was no then.
If he couldn't even defend against a strike of that level, it was indeed hard to say Annie was "abusing" her classmate; it could only be said that this guy was as fragile as a sheet of paper.
"...Fine, you have a point."
The instructor took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the shock in his heart, and could only helplessly wave for the medics.
"Quickly carry this unlucky fellow away! The rest of you continue training! Remember, friendship first, don't kill anyone!"
Though he said this, the way the instructor looked at Annie had completely changed—this was definitely a freak who needed special attention.
As the man was carried away on a stretcher, Annie looked away indifferently.
One could only say that the guy should be glad this was the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy.
If it were anywhere else... what Annie had just kicked and broken might have been more than just one leg.
After dealing with the broken leg accident, the instructor wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, forcibly organized the team, and announced the next segment—
The Instructor Guidance Match.
By convention, this segment was used by the instructor to "establish authority" and "teach."
He would suppress the students, point out the flaws in their movements, and then enjoy the students' admiring gazes; it was a teaching session.
However, when the instructor picked up the roster and his gaze swept over the name "Annie Leonhart," his fingers visibly stiffened, and his eyes involuntarily drifted toward the seemingly harmless-looking blonde girl in the corner.
He was silent for a full three seconds.
The instructor swallowed and silently moved Annie's name to the very end of the guidance list.
The first few groups of sparring went smoothly.
The instructor was, after all, a veteran Agent who had survived a hundred battles; he was more than capable of handling ordinary students, taking them down in a few moves and providing professional commentary.
Amidst the students' admiring and longing gazes, he finally regained some of his dignity as an instructor.
Until that black-haired girl with green highlights stepped forward.
"Start!"
Before the words could fade, the girl had already moved.
Unlike Annie's wide and powerful Muay Thai, this girl's style was more feminine and eerie.
The instructor had just thrown a straight punch, but the girl's body was like it had no bones, instantly entwining itself around the instructor's arm.
Immediately after, using her body weight and the momentum of her rotation, her legs locked around the instructor's neck and shoulder like scissors.
A Flying Armbar!
This was a Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu move, or to put it dramatically, a "Deadly Scissor Kick," one of the moves Natasha frequently used.
"Ugh!!"
Before the instructor could react, he was slammed to the ground by the massive centrifugal force.
Immediately, a piercing pain came from his right arm joint.
"Gently... go easy! It's going to dislocate!!!"
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