Chapter 31 - The Next Class
After my performance—no student volunteered to be next.
The staggering benchmark of a 0.42-second reaction time hung heavily in the air, paralyzing the remaining students with a mixture of disbelief and intimidation.
Well, Zion was about to go and do so, but someone beat him to it—
He had taken a half-step forward, his weight shifting onto his toes as he prepared to claim the next slot, when another figure suddenly pushed past the front row.
"I’ll go next, Professor Russel."
It was Marcus.
He looked determined, the fire in his eyes was visible. It was obvious that he will try and beat my score with the best he can.
His jaw was clenched tight, and his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his weapon with enough pressure to turn his knuckles completely white.
"Go ahead."
Professor Russel said, nodding his head.
He offered a brief, approving grunt, stepping back slightly to give the serious freshman enough clearance to operate.
Marcus walked straight to the device, and with such concentration—he held his sword tightly in his right hand. And after a while of waiting—FWISH!
One of the targets appeared!
A bright red glowing orb materialized to his left side with a sudden electronic click.
Marcus didn’t miss that and immediately moved—SLASH!
It was a fast vertical slice.
The blade cut through the air with a crisp, whistling sound, popping the first target before it could even fully expand its radius.
The four other targets appeared milliseconds one after another—it looks like they appeared all at the same. And just like mine, their placement were pretty far apart from each other too.
They flickered into existence across different angles of the open ground, challenging both spatial awareness and rapid directional shifting.
"...!"
A frown appeared on Marcus’ face, but without hesitation, and as fast as he can—SWOOOOSH! SWISH—SLASH!
POP—POP! POP! POP!
He hit all the targets!
He performed a wide horizontal swing to hit two of them in one go—then a diagonally down one and an upward to hit the last two. He didn’t stop his movement at all!
His blade danced in a chaotic yet controlled blur, his boots sliding aggressively across the grass as he covered the distance between each spawn point with impressive athletic agility.
"..."
The students around went silent as well when he finished. His time was definitely fast!
The surrounding spectators watched with wide eyes as the final target shattered into dust, leaving Marcus breathing clamly in the center of the training ring.
Everyone looked at the timer—
Professor Aine tapped her digital pad, syncing the final calculations before looking up at the head instructor.
"Marcus—1.54 second. Good job."
Then Professor Russel announced that. His voice rang out clearly across the field, acknowledging the impressive feat with a firm nod of respect.
His time was fast, definitely fast—but at the same time; it was far from mine. Even the compliment given by the professor was legit.
Compared to the standard freshman baseline, breaking the sub-two-second mark placed him comfortably near the absolute peak of the incoming class.
"..."
And this made me widen my eyes a bit, because in my perspective—Marcus was really fast earlier; so the fact that my time was a lot faster than him made me question what the hell did I do earlier.
I stared at the scoreboard for a brief second, realizing just how absurb my performace was earlier.
Anyway—
Marcus lowered his weapon slowly, letting out a long, controlled breath as he stared at the digital display showing his time.
"Haaaa..."
Marcus nodded his head with a straight face after hearing his time. He didn’t look down at all, instead—he looked really fired up.
His dark eyes flicked toward the screen once more before hardening with an even greater sense of competitive drive. He walked straight back to us and waited. He didn’t look at me this time, but I still felt like he’s really feeling competitive against me.
He took his spot in the back row of Class 1-F, his posture stiffer than ever as he mentally processed the massive gap between his time and mine.
*****
After Marcus, the other students started volunteering now as well, and in average—both [B-Class] and [C-Class] hit all the targets around; 2 to 3 seconds.
The remaining participants stepped up one by one, most of them struggling to keep their reaction times under the three-second threshold as physical fatigue from the earlier drills finally caught up with them.
That was the normal score for freshmen, after all.
Without extraordinary reflexes or specialized training, keeping up with the rapid, randomized spawning patterns of the projector was a brutal test of raw mental processing speed.
But of course, there are some that exceeded that.
Me and Marcus, obviously.
We remained the outliers of the entire group, holding the top two positions on the evaluation board by a wide margin.
Then after us—David. His time was 1.24 second.
He moved with sharp, aggressive efficiency, his noble training clearly showing in the clean, precise arcs of his weapon swings.
Then the girl from his class—her time was 1.43 second.
She maintained a calm, steady rhythm throughout the drill, proving that technical precision could easily rival raw speed.
A girl from our class got 1.82 second.
She flashed a bright, relieved smile as Professor Russel recorded her score, giving Class 1-F another solid placement near the upper tier.
Then Zion... His time was 0.74 second!
The protagonist stepped up with a casual stretch, and the second the first target popped, his body moved like a bolt of golden lightning.
He silenced the yard once more—Professor Aine and Russel were clearly surprised again. David, Marcus, and the others widened their eyes once more.
The sheer explosive power behind his movements allowed him to cross the distance between targets almost instantaneously, shattering every single orb before anyone could even blink.
His time was under a second as well.
A sub-one-second completion time was something usually reserved for elite second-year seniors or professional combatants, yet he pulled it off effortlessly on his very first attempt.
But still... he didn’t manage to beat my time!
Even with his monstrous protagonist stats and natural reaction speed, his 0.74 seconds still fell well short of my 0.42-second record.
I successfully bested Zion in one aspect, I managed to do it!
A quiet wave of satisfaction washed over me as I looked at the final numbers glowing side by side on the central monitor.
"Looks like I can’t beat your score in the end."
Zion said as he got back beside me.
He walked over with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head as he stared at the board in genuine disbelief.
"Haha, still—your time is the best... after me, that is."
I told him with a weak chuckle; I also teased him jokingly. I nudged his shoulder lightly, letting out a soft laugh at the rare sight of the protagonist failing to secure the absolute number one spot.
"It’s just one activity, I won the rest in our little competition."
He shot back at me with a smile. He crossed his arms defensively, trying his best to salvage his pride after getting beaten out in the very last category.
"Sure sure."
Then I just told him that, ignoring his words.
I offered a dismissive wave of my hand, refusing to let him downplay the small victory I had just carved out for myself.
While his words were true, he did won this little competition of ours—Zion expected by the end that he will come out of the top in every activity. So the fact that I stopped him from doing that—made it felt like I won more than he did.
Taking down the undefeated protagonist in even a single drill felt like an absolute win in my book.
"Ugh..."
And Zion seems to think so too.
He let out a soft groan of lingering frustration, glancing back at the monitor one last time before shaking his head with a helpless laugh.
*****
Anyway, after that—the class came to an end.
The final timer beeped to signal the completion of the reaction drill, bringing an official halt to the grueling physical evaluations.
Professor Aine and Professor Russel came face to face and bowed at each other, thanking one another for the fruitful joint session.
The two instructors exchanged a brief conversation regarding the collective data collected from both classes before turning their attention back to the eighty exhausted students gathered on the grass.
Professor Russel then announced that him and Professor Aine will take their time doing the training menu for each of them—it will take them a week at most, so until then—
"There will be no classes in PE. You can use the free time however you want."
The moment those words left his mouth, a loud cheer erupted from several students across both sections, thrilled at the prospect of a surprise break from physical training.
And just like that—they both dismissed all of us.
Professor Russel waved his giant hand dismissively, turning on his heel and walking back toward the main building alongside Professor Aine.
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The first class was long, it took 3 hours in total.
Looking at the digital display on my phone as I pulled it out of my pocket, I realized just how much time had flown by since we first stepped foot onto the athletic field.
And it didn’t overtime at all. PE was actually scheduled for three hours.
Every single class block at Star Academy was built like a marathon rather than a standard academic sprint, designed to push students to their absolute limits. They don’t teach normal stuff after all.
Between managing mana flow, running endurance laps, and enduring high-intensity combat evaluations, three hours felt more like an entire day.
Good thing is that after every class; is a lunch break.
The academy schedule mercifully provided a generous midday gap to allow students to rest, eat, and prepare themselves for the afternoon academic lectures.
Zion and I decided to visit the cafeteria to get lunch, we were still talking about the results of the activities earlier.
We fell into step beside each other as we walked away from the training yard, chatting animatedly about the insane difficulty of the reaction drill and the surprised expressions on the Class 1-B students’ faces.
Then he suddenly asked me what our next class is—
"It’s [The Study and Understanding of Dungeons]."
I told him that.
Zion paused mid-step, his bright expression instantly faltering as the name of the subject registered in his mind.
That’s right—after a full-on physical class; we’re going 180 and the next class will be all studying.
Moving straight from a brutal outdoor physical evaluation into a heavy, complex theoretical lecture about spatial anomalies, mana core behaviors, and labyrinth ecosystems was a cruel academic twist.
Zion groaned after hearing the next subject.
"Ugh... seriously? Dungeon studies right after this?! My brain is already fried from running fifty-meter sprints!"
He complained loudly, dragging his feet along the paved walkway toward the dining hall.
I want to tell that I was different from him—but to be honest, I don’t like these kind of subjects as well.
"Tell me about it..."
I mumbled quietly, offering him a sympathetic nod as we continued our walk toward the bustling cafeteria entrance.