Word spread fast, but it was dismissed as a fluke. "He just got lucky with math," they said. "Even a broken clock is right twice a day." Anthony was glad for that. He didn't want attention. He wanted to understand what he had become.
During the afternoon break, the students went to the practice yard. The Awakened students were showing off. Marcus was now clad in light armor, practicing sword forms that were beautiful and deadly. Every swing cut the air, creating sonic booms.
Sarah was healing a boy who had scraped his knee, her hands glowing with holy light.
Anthony sat under a tree, observing. He wasn't just watching; he was analyzing.
That sword style, Anthony thought, The 'Flowing Water' technique. It has a flaw at the 7th stance. The weight distribution shifts too much to the left leg. If you strike there with precise timing, the defense collapses.
And Sarah's healing... she is using too much energy. She is forcing the cells to regenerate. It is effective now, but it will damage the patient's life force in ten years. She should use resonance instead.
"Hey! Watch out!"
A shout came from above. One of the students practicing projectile magic had lost control of his fireball. It spiraled off course, growing larger and unstable, heading directly toward where a group of younger students were playing.
Panic erupted. The teachers were too far away. The fireball was blazing hot, screaming through the air.
"Move!" someone screamed.
The children were frozen in fear.
Anthony stood up. He didn't rush. He didn't panic. He simply raised his hand lazily, pointing a finger at the fireball.
In his mind, he commanded the very essence of heat and energy. Disperse.
Nothing visibly happened. No glowing aura, no big show.
But the fireball simply... unraveled. It didn't explode. It just turned into harmless warm air and a few sparks, dissipating as if it had never existed. The heat wave that should have knocked everyone over vanished instantly.
The student who cast it landed, panting. "I... I lost control! Where did it go?"
"It just fizzled out," another student said, confused. "Weird. It was so big one second, gone the next."
Anthony sat back down, picking up a book. He acted like he hadn't moved a muscle.
However, Marcus had seen it. He had been watching from across the field. He saw Anthony raise his hand, and then the fire disappeared. Marcus frowned, deep in thought.
"That wasn't natural," Marcus muttered. "Anthony... what are you?"
Later, Derek came over again, still angry about the math incident. He wanted to put the orphan back in his place.
"Hey, nobody leaves the Dregs class," Derek growled, cornering Anthony near the lockers. "You think you're smart? Let's see how smart you are with a broken nose."
Derek threw a punch. It was fast, empowered by his Body Cultivation soul. To a normal boy, it would have been a blur.
To Anthony, it looked slow. Painfully slow. He could see the tension in Derek's muscles, the twist of his shoulder, the exact trajectory of the fist.
Speed: 12 units. Force: 400 pounds. Impact point: Left cheekbone.
Anthony didn't even look at him. He tilted his head slightly to the right, less than an inch.
Derek's fist sailed past his ear, whistling through the air.
Off balance, Derek stumbled forward. Anthony casually placed his hand on Derek's back, just a light tap. But he channeled a microscopic amount of gravitational force into the touch.
Derek suddenly felt like his back weighed a ton. He crashed face-first into the lockers with a loud BANG, sliding down to the floor, dazed and confused.
"Clumsy," Anthony said softly, walking past him. "You should watch your step."