My System Doesn't Give Power

"Why do I feel as though you’re both performing a badly rehearsed play?"

"There’s nothing like that," Marty replied immediately. "You’re being paranoid. Did you sleep properly last night?"

Daniel rolled his eyes and asked something bugging in his mind since he saw the message. "If they aren’t blaming anyone from our class, then who are they going to blame? Someone still has to take responsibility for what happened, right?"

"That’s the interesting part." Marty activated his VSB, opened the academy website, and showed them the official statement.

"The academy claims the ten students were ambushed by a powerful, unidentified beast inside the Summer and Winter Realm."

Zac raised an eyebrow. "A beast?"

"Yeah. Apparently, it possessed sharp, sword-like claws."

Daniel stared at the report. "They couldn’t invent a better story?" He shook his head. "It’s obvious the academy is trying to sweep the entire incident under the rug."

[I agree with the red haired spear boy. They could have fabricated something considerably more convincing.]

[This merely demonstrates how little creativity your sugar mommy possesses.]

"Can you blame her?" Zac replied inwardly. "With her strength and influence, she could probably kill twenty or thirty people, admit it publicly, and still have nothing to fear."

"She only lied to prevent me from attracting unnecessary attention."

[How delightful it must be to possess a sugar mommy.]

"I’ve told you countless times. She is not my sugar mommy."

[Deny it for as long as you wish. Her qualifications remain impeccable.]

Marty smiled in relief. "Anyway, I’m glad they’ve finally stopped suspecting you."

Before Zac could respond, Kelly approached them from behind with a gloomy expression.

Marty noticed immediately and asked. "What happened to you, Kelly?"

"Nothing."

"All right," Marty said. "You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to."

"It isn’t that I don’t want to." Kelly hesitated for a moment. "Well, whatever. I suppose there’s no harm in telling you."

She glanced toward the benches beside the training ground. "It isn’t actually about me. It’s about Snow."

The three of them followed her gaze and saw Sabrina sitting alone on one of the benches, her arms folded across her chest and an unusually furious expression on her face.

Marty studied her for a moment and asked. "Why does she look so angry?"

"Isn’t she always like that?" Zac asked.

Daniel ignored him and turned toward Kelly. "What happened?"

Kelly sighed. "When the academy announced that none of us were involved, I was relieved that Zac was no longer a suspect. But Sabrina remains completely convinced that the second-years were killed by a person."

"Oh, so she still suspects me?" Zac asked.

"No, no. She never said you were the one who did it. She simply believes the killer was a person rather than some mysterious beast."

"Is that why she’s angry?" Marty asked.

"That’s only part of it." Kelly scratched the side of her face awkwardly. "She went to Miss Matilda and demanded an explanation. She even told her that the story about the unidentified beast was complete crap."

("...")

("...")

("...")

"She did what?" Marty asked.

Kelly nodded. "I was surprised too."

Zac looked toward Sabrina. "Surprised? Is she actually stupid?"

Marty glanced at him. "Don’t be so harsh."

"What do you mean, don’t be harsh? We haven’t even completed our initial training, and she’s already questioning the academy’s official statement. Does she possess even a single functioning brain cell?"

He folded his arms. "If she weren’t as talented as everyone claims, she probably would have been thrown out of the academy already."

Daniel nodded slightly. "It was certainly a bold thing to do."

"As I said," Kelly continued, "Snow can’t remain silent when she believes she’s witnessing an injustice."

Zac turned toward Marty. "See? Didn’t I tell you that blind righteousness eventually gets people into trouble?"

Marty watched Sabrina from a distance and nodded. "Yeah. We’re already seeing an example."

Daniel then looked at Kelly. "But why are you the one who looks upset?"

Kelly hesitated again. "Well... Snow doesn’t really know how to be sad."

"Yeah, she only knows how to be a bitch," Zac interjected.

"Zac, please remain quiet for one minute," Marty said before gesturing for Kelly to continue.

"As I was saying, Snow doesn’t know how to express sadness. So instead, I’m being sad on her behalf."

The three boys stared at her, their mouths hanging open. Even the system seemed momentarily rendered speechless.

[I was aware that humans could be irrational, but this appears to be an entirely new species of logic. Forget logic. Does she even possess common sense?]

"Why are you asking me?"

[Who else am I supposed to ask?]

Kelly glanced between the three boys. "Why are all of you staring at me?"

"No reason," they answered simultaneously before looking elsewhere.

Kelly nodded as though her explanation had been entirely reasonable. "Since I’m sad and she’s angry, I don’t want her to be alone. I’m going to sit with her."

With that, she turned and walked back toward Sabrina.

Marty watched her leave. "I don’t understand either of them."

"Good," Zac replied. "That means you are still sane in your head."

One by one, the remaining students began arriving at the training ground.

At precisely nine o’clock, an older man entered through the main gate.

He wore a faded purple kimono, wooden sandals, and a broad straw hat that partially obscured his face. The students quickly gathered before him.

The man stopped in front of the group and surveyed them with a stern expression. "Boys on the left. Girls on the right. Form orderly lines and remain at attention."

Everyone immediately hurried into position. Once they had formed two straight lines, Sir Simon placed one hand behind his back and started speaking.

"When I stand before you and speak, your eyes remain on me." His gaze traveled slowly across the students. "Even if a bomb explodes behind you, your attention does not leave me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Simon nodded. "Good. Today’s training will..."

"Excuse me."

A voice suddenly interrupted him.

Simon turned and saw Adrian entering the training ground, approaching the group without the slightest urgency.

He stared at him. "Who are you?"

Adrian immediately straightened and placed one hand over his chest. "My name is Adrian von Ains..."

"I don’t give a damn about your name," Simon interrupted before he could finish and pointed toward the assembled students. "Are you part of this class?"

"Yes. The noble me..."

"Shut your damn mouth. You’re late."

Adrian’s expression stiffened. "I have a valid explanation for my delay."

"I also don’t give a damn why you’re late." Simon’s voice remained perfectly calm yet carried an authority that permitted no argument.

"Frog-jump around the entire training ground three times. After that, you may join the class."

Adrian stared at him. "What?" His face reddened with indignation, and he looked at Simon directly into his eyes.

For reasons Adrian could not explain, the old man’s gaze felt like the edge of a sword resting against his throat ready to reap his soul at any given moment.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

Adrian glanced at the enormous track surrounding the field, then back into Simon’s eyes. He swallowed slowly. "No, sir."

"That’s what I thought." Simon pointed toward the track. "Now hop."

With his head lowered in defeat, Adrian walked toward the edge of the field, crouched down, and began jumping like a frog.

Several students instinctively turned to watch him. Simon’s gaze returned to the class. "Did I give you permission to look away?"

Everyone immediately faced forward, but it was already too late.

"All of you, join him. One full lap." Their expressions changed instantly, and murmurs started spreading through the group as several students began quietly complaining among themselves.

"Two laps."

The murmuring ceased immediately, and every student rushed toward the track and dropped into a crouch.

A few moments later, the students who had once dreamed of entering one of the world’s top five academies, becoming powerful variants, and attaining fame, wealth, and status were now hopping around the training ground like an army of frogs.

Marty’s face and clothes were already drenched in sweat. "Just how big is this ground?" he shouted between jumps.

Shobin, breathing heavily yet somehow still capable of calculating, replied, "One full lap should be around twelve hundred meters."

"What?" Marty nearly lost his balance. "Isn’t that three times the length of an Olympic track?"

Kelly, hopping a short distance away, looked confused. "What are the Olympics?"

Despite his exhaustion, Marty’s face immediately brightened. "It was an international tournament held before the apocalypse. Different nations gathered and competed in various sports."

"That sounds fun."

"Not really," Marty said. "It was basically a war without weapons. Officially, it was about sports and unity. But everyone treated it like a battle for national pride. Instead of soldiers, countries sent their best athletes to prove they were the strongest."

Kelly considered that for a moment. "It still sounds fun."

Zac glanced at Marty. "I didn’t know you were interested in things like that."

"Come on, I’m not a completely ignorant bum."

Marty hesitated before reluctantly admitting, "Fine. I’m a huge fan of the Kings and Queens Tournament. That led me to learn about other international competitions, even those held before the apocalypse."

"Speaking of the Kings and Queens Tournament," Daniel said from behind them, "the next one should take place during our third year."

"That’s still a long way off," Zac replied. "Let’s focus on surviving this punishment first."

Marty groaned as he forced himself into another jump. "Why is hopping so exhausting?"

"That’s why you shouldn’t eat so much before physical training," Zac remarked.

"At least this might help you lose some weight," Shobin added.

Marty turned toward him in visible betrayal. "Even you, Shobin? When did you become the teasing type?"

He huffed indignantly. "Food is my primary source of motivation. Besides, I’m a defensive warrior. What’s wrong with being slightly bulky?"

Daniel glanced ahead. "Compared to him, we’re still fortunate." Everyone followed his gaze and saw Adrian hopping far ahead of them.

His face was contorted with misery, and he cursed Sir Simon beneath his breath with every jump.

"May the gods grant him strength during this tragic ordeal," Marty said solemnly.