Chapter 100: Pursuit
Final exam day.
Students trickled into the training hall.
Training Hall Ω, tucked in a remote corner of Clington’s vast campus, boasted the most advanced facilities.
Compared to it, the Training Hall, where my students usually trained, was like an outhouse.
No active Clington student had ever set foot in Ω—a rare case.
They couldn’t help but be excited.
From outside, it looked like a modest gym, but descending the long underground staircase revealed its truth.
A student gasped at the sight beyond the door.
“Huh.”
What the hell?
Beyond imagination—beyond comprehension.
Rubbing their eyes, it wasn’t a hallucination.
An entire city sprawled underground.
Buildings, roads, streets, cars, even citizens walking—all real.
Buildings of varying heights and designs stood in order; cars moved like in a real city.
Lights and sounds from inside buildings mimicked real life, adding realism.
Of course, this massive city wasn’t real—a projected simulation, a fleeting illusion.
Yet not quite an illusion.
You could touch it, ride the cars, climb buildings, and interact with people.
Knowing it was a test setup, all fake, didn’t make it feel less real.
As students stood half-dazed by the city, I descended behind them.
Seeing the urban expanse under an artificial sky, I let out a small marvel.
“Matches the specs. Damn impressive.”
I’d heard about it, seen images, but seeing it live drew awe.
Some aurora systems using gate projection tech—nonexistent ten years ago, even in theory.
No wonder hunters and gate industries raked in cash.
But my awe wasn’t just for the tech.
“Power’s nice.”
Normally, booking this hall took six months’ approval.
I’d leveraged my clout and connections to force a spot in a month, all costs covered by public funds.
Sure, it stirred grumbling.
But after catching flak for my private force, this was cute.
Students snapped out of it, facing me, sneaking glances at the city.
I nodded.
“Everyone here?”
“Yes.”
“As announced, the final exam tests hero basics. The venue's in that city.”
I opened my notebook.
“Group assignments. Balance might be off, but I’ll account for it in grading, so no whining. Group 1…”
I split forty-three students into nine groups.
The mood soured. I’d deliberately paired them with “awkward” teammates.
No friends—strangers or distant acquaintances.
Bad vibes were inevitable.
It wasn’t just a lack of closeness.
Unfamiliar with each other’s traits, issues would pile up during the test.
But in the field, heroes often teamed with strangers.
This was basic competence.
“I’ll explain the setup.”
I pulled radios from my bag, handing one to each group.
“Patrol the city in groups. When something happens in your zone, respond. Patrol, response, cleanup—all graded. Stay sharp.”
From minor villain antics to chases, bank robberies, terrorism, hostage crises—I’d set up varied scenarios.
Realistic challenges, graded on response.
This was my ideal exam.
A student raised a hand with a question.
I nodded for them to speak.
“Are you playing the villain, Professor?”
“Of course not. I was about to explain—I called in help today.”
They instantly thought of So-hee and Se-ah.
Since the MT, they’d occasionally popped into class, getting along well with students.
Unbeknownst to me, So-hee, as a “counselor,” had even advised some students.
But them as villains?
Felt off.
Their cute, bubbly images didn’t fit real combat.
Some students worried about that.
Snap—
I flicked my fingers.
Someone trudged down the stairs.
Students, ready to clap for So-hee or Se-ah, froze.
Not them—three rough-looking men.
Not just rough.
Thick iron cuffs bound their wrists, heavy steel balls on their ankles.
Already grim-faced, they looked like hardcore criminals.
I explained shortly.
“Villains. Out under terms like mine, they’ll play villains for this. No need to go easy—they’re stronger than you. They can handle danger and escape if needed.”
Real criminals!
Their fears became reality, faces hardening. Was this okay?
“These suckers—er, slaves—no, what’s the word?”
I fumbled, oblivious to the mood.
Using “slaves” in front of students felt wrong.
Wolf Fang flinched.
“Boss.”
“Hey, I said watch it.”
“Professor. Can you uncuff us? Blood’s not flowing.”
He raised his cuffed wrists.
“Shut it. I’ll uncuff when it’s time.”
“Yes…”
His hands dropped limply.
“Assistants? Nah, helpers.”
Bringing them into the Academy caused pushback, but I forced it through.
The whole point was protecting people—if I couldn’t bring them here, what’s the use?
The same student raised a hand.
“They’re not dangerous, right?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but don’t worry. They’re not like that, and we’ve got safeguards.”
Their wrists had watches like mine.
I could rip them off or use Traits, but for average villains?
No chance.
Wolf Fang and his lackeys were controlled by inhibitors.
Cause trouble?
Lethal dose, done.
I put a hand on Wolf Fang’s shoulder.
“Right?”
“Y-Yes. I’d rather die thirty times.”
“Good.”
Dropping my hand, I added.
“Just in case…”
Thud-thud-thud—
Loud footsteps.
Another figure appeared.
Se-ah scowled.
“I’ve got my own class to test. I’m not Manipulation—why call an Enhancement type?”
It was settled, so I ignored her grumbling.
“Checked your schedule—you’re free. And…”
I reached out, patting her head—*thump*.
“No one else I trust.”
“Hmph. Well, if you say so.”
She turned, smirking smugly.
No one else to trust? Meant she was the only one.
Obviously—I’m the best!
Pointing at her, I said.
“She’ll control them and play a villain too. Don’t be intimidated.”
A familiar face eased the students’ tension.
I found it funny.
When would they realize Se-ah spiked the difficulty tenfold?
For Enhancement heroes, a skilled Manipulation villain was a nightmare.
“Oh, the city’s got accelerators running. Exam’s six hours.”
I gestured to the students.
“Go in. Villains move in ten minutes.”
Groups clutched radios, vanishing into the city.
Se-ah, watching them, muttered.
“I wish my class was here. Mixing them would’ve been fun.”
My class was all Enhancement—lopsided for real combat.
Her class would’ve balanced it.
Even by her standards, my exam had learning value.
Though it meant more work for professors.
“Talk to the old man next semester.”
I felt the flaw too, but no fix now.
Pointing at Wolf Fang, I said.
“Stay sane, do as told. If they act up, stall. The Association’ll detect and kill them.”
“Don’t scare me like that!”
I uncuffed Wolf Fang and the others, removing their ankle weights.
They sighed in relief.
“By the way, babysitting looks tough, Boss.”
“Kill me. So don’t stress me out. Killing by mistake feels bad.”
Wolf Fang stretched.
One S-rank, three A-ranks.
Harsh for students, but no issue.
Except Se-ah, they wore watches with inhibitors, limiting their strength, plus heavy shackles.
“Got the incident scenarios memorized?”
“Yeah. Why do I need to? Can’t you just do it?”
I shrugged.
“Got my own moves.”
She hadn’t heard that.
Puffing her cheeks, she said.
“What’s that mean!”
“If I was babysitting them, I wouldn’t need you. You’re for control.”
“Hmph. They look boring.”
She deflated, agreeing to help.
“Not into villains, but seeing how the kids improved since MT’ll be fun.”
Turning, her eyes lost their usual warmth.
Cold, dry, like when we first met, she said shortly.
“Let’s go.”
“Y-Yes…”
They followed like cattle to slaughter.
* * *
Minutes after Se-ah and the villains entered the city—
Boom!—
An explosion rocked the distance, black smoke rising.
Screams echoed.
Starting big, huh.
No worry about grading.
Hundreds of invisible cameras recorded every move.
Se-ah knew the criteria—she’d handle it.
I moved to test other groups.
But my phone buzzed loudly.
Pulling it out, I checked the text.
My relaxed face hardened.
Short, but critical—outweighing the exam.
I turned from the test city.
After a long chase, I’d pinpointed the Organization’s boss.