While I was still lost in thought—somewhere between spiraling into existential dread and figuring out how not to die in Year One—the classroom door slid open with a soft click.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
No, seriously. I wasn't imagining it. The chatter died down.
A few students straightened in their seats. Some even looked like they were holding their breath.
There she was—perhaps a goddess?
Her long silver hair flowed like silk, tied loosely with a thin silver ribbon.
Her figure was accentuated perfectly by a fitted academy coat, and her heels clicked softly against the floor with every step.
Violet eyes scanned the room, cool and unreadable.
There was no mistaking it—every eye in the class was on her, including Edwin.
"...Wait, am I dreaming?"
One of the students whispered.
"No way... that's Sylvia Maeril, isn't it?"
"Huh? You mean Sylvia Maeril? The Ice Goddess?"
"She's ranked 71st in the global hero rankings... and she's our homeroom teacher?! What kind of insane luck is that?"
"Insane luck? Don't you know how strict she is rumored to be?"
"She's so much prettier in person!"
"You can say that again."
They weren't exaggerating.
Even I—who knew who she was from the novel—found myself staring for a second too long.
(She's more stunning than the book described...)
Where Cecilia and Elysia were like flowers still blooming, Sylvia Maeril was the peak of that bloom—radiant, refined, and untouchable.
She walked to the front and turned to face us, eyes cold and razor-sharp.
"Good morning," she said, her voice smooth as polished ice.
"I'm your homeroom teacher."
Another wave of disbelief rolled through the room.
"No way, man... we're so screwed."
"If she's our teacher, then the passing rate is gonna be hellish..."
Many knew about Slyvia's reputation of not being lenient to her students and many suffered under her teaching.
Though there were others who thought it was good. At least, we got the prettiest girl in the world to be our homeroom teacher, right?
Ignoring the murmurs, she tapped on the crystal embedded in her teacher's desk, activating a faintly glowing barrier that silenced the room in an instant.
"I am Sylvia Maeril, ranked 71st Heroes according to the Heroic Council!"
The classroom buzzed with hushed reactions.
"This academy doesn't care about your bloodline or background. Your worth will be judged by your skills and hard work."
Her violet gaze swept across the classroom, pausing only for a heartbeat on each student. It felt like she was memorizing our faces.
"There are one hundred and fifty students in this class. You are the highest-ranked first-year batch ever. That makes this the most important class in the Academy's history. The survival of nations will one day rest on your shoulders."
When I heard that there were 150 students, I was relieved, thinking that at least I wasn't the worst person here.
There were still 13 students who were ranked lower than me and were weaker than me.
If I were to fight them right, I would undoubtedly lose. I don't even know how to swing a sword. How the hell could I fight with these people who have been training since they were kids?
No matter how much of an extra Kael Ashford was—or how much I believed he was—he was still a hundred times better than someone like me, who couldn't even cut a chicken.
"You'll be introduced to your core subjects this week. Combat theory, elemental manipulation, monster ecology, artifact utilization... Learn quickly, or you'll be left behind."
She clapped once, and a glowing list of names floated behind her, aligned in unmistakable order—ranking.
"Now. Introductions. We'll go by rank. State your name, your specialty, and what you want out of this Academy."
Her eyes swept through the room and unmistakably paused on Edwin Leonhart.
Edwin stood smoothly. No nerves. No hesitation.
"I am Edwin Leonhart," he said, voice calm and noble. "Swords are my main weapon. My goal is to become the shield that protects the world."
If it came from the mouth of someone else, it might have sounded cocky—but not when it came from Edwin Leonhart.
He looked and felt like the epitome of a hero who might actually save humanity.
Applause immediately followed, students showering him with admiration for his noble goal.
Sylvia gave him a slight nod.
Elysia stood, posture perfect.
"Elysia von Arctria. My speciality is Swordsmanship and magic. I'm here to make sure that someone doesn't destroy the world again."
She didn't glance at anyone, but I could feel the subtle pressure in the air around her.
She was already different from how she'd been described in the novel.
(And isn't her goal different from what's written in the novel?)
It had changed—from becoming strong enough to protect others, to making sure no one destroys the world again?
Was it the same meaning, just worded differently?
Even her friend Cecilia was looking at Elysia in confusion.
Other students didn't know how to respond to her statement, though they gave polite applause anyway.
Sylvia didn't seem to care. Or perhaps she interpreted Elysia's goal as a reference to the Demon King—after all, he's the one who poses the threat to destroy the world.
"My name is Jin Halden! I'm going to become the greatest spear-user in the world and defeat all Demons!"
A bold declaration with a clear goal—just as expected from Jin Halden.
Applause rang out, with his friend clapping harder than anyone.
Jin looked proud of himself as he fingered his nose and sat down.
Cecilia rose gracefully next.
"Hello! I'm Cecilia Elvareth. Holy magic and healing. I want to help people who need me."
Short, sweet, and sincere. She was just like the novel described—too good for this cruel world.
The process continued.
One after another, students introduced themselves. From noble houses, prestigious bloodlines, famed families.
And the longer it went on, the more I could feel my stomach tighten.
I knew what was coming.
"Rank 136—Talia Windmere."
The girl in the far corner stood timidly. "Beast-taming and sensory enhancement," she muttered.
Some students turned, clearly wondering who the hell that was.
I forced myself to stand, fighting off the sinking feeling in my gut.
"Kael Ashford," I said, trying not to sound like I was choking. "Swordsmanship... My goal is..."
(Survive. That's all I want!)
Not knowing what to say, I blurted out my honest thought.
There was a short silence.
Someone coughed, barely holding back a laugh.
After all, this was a hero school—where people dreamed of saving the world, not themselves.
Especially students young and full of ambition, who hadn't yet realized the dangers lying in wait for their so-called dreams.
A goal like survival? It was almost taboo.
No applause. No nods. Just an awkward pause before Sylvia spoke again.
She looked at me for a moment longer than necessary.
Perhaps she was also looking down on me for such a goal?
Well, so what? Ninety percent of these students would die.
Survival could be considered a noble goal—not that they'd understand me anyway.
Then the last 13 students gave their introductions—each one filled with idealism and the desire to help others, despite their low ranks.
"That concludes introductions. Today, we'll have light exercise. Everyone, follow me!"