Chapter 39; Weak…? Me...?


    The morning sun shone brightly over the academy, bathing its grand halls and towering walls in warm golden light. The air was crisp and refreshing, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves—a perfect autumn morning. Unlike the past few days, where gray clouds had hung heavily in the sky, today was clear and vibrant, the kind of day that made it easy to breathe deeply and feel awake.


    By 7:00 to 7:30 AM, most students were already stirring, preparing for the start of another school day. The sounds of running water, footsteps in the dormitory halls, and quiet morning conversations echoed through the academy as students dressed in their uniforms and mentally prepared for their lessons.


    By 8:00 AM, the classrooms were filled, the daily routine about to begin.


    Among the many classrooms in the academy, one was reserved for the first-year Knights Division—a class of only ten students. And among them sat a boy with messy black hair and equally dark eyes.


    Fulan Nanimo.


    "Good morning."


    The voice came from the front of the room as Instructor Makoto stepped inside, carrying a stack of neatly arranged books. His footsteps were steady as he walked towards his desk. Before the students even had a chance to reply, he continued,


    "I spent last night creating a custom training plan for each of you. I''ll be distributing them now. Read them carefully and try your best to apply the recommendations."


    The students exchanged glances, their expressions quiet but undeniably impressed. In just one night, Instructor Makoto had managed to craft individualized training plans for each student. His dedication was clear.


    After placing his books on the desk, Makoto began distributing the papers one by one. Each student received three sheets of paper specifically tailored to them.


    Fulan took his set of documents, his fingers lightly brushing over the crisp pages. But as his eyes scanned the contents, he couldn''t help but be taken aback by the sheer amount of detail and complex theories written down.


    Before the students could get fully absorbed in reading, Makoto spoke again, his voice calm yet firm.


    "I told you before that after learning about the history of Menma, we would move on to the next phase—understanding the Menma particles you inherited from your parents."


    As he spoke, Makoto walked toward Kazuki, a boy with a mix of light and dark gray hair, before continuing,


    "Each student has three pages.


    The first page contains an analysis of your ability and its characteristics.


    The second page includes a simple illustration showing how your Menma cells interact with the air. This will help you control your breathing in combat, allowing you to maximize your power.


    The third page outlines a list of potential special techniques you might be able to execute if you push beyond your limits. Of course, there''s no guarantee that you''ll be able to master these techniques… but I don''t believe it''s impossible either. Everything depends on your willpower."


    The room fell silent as the students focused intently on their first page, trying to grasp a better understanding of their own abilities. The rustling of paper and the soft sound of flipping pages filled the air.


    Meanwhile, Makoto placed a steady hand on Kazuki''s shoulder.


    "You were absent yesterday, so I haven''t seen your ability yet," he said. "I can create a plan for you as well if you show it to me."


    Kazuki met his gaze with calm eyes before offering a small, confident smile.


    "It''s fine," he said. "I''ve been training like this since I was five years old. I understand my ability better than anyone else."


    Makoto hadn''t expected such a response. After a brief moment, he simply nodded before turning away, walking back toward his desk.


    "If that''s your decision…"


    As the rest of the class remained deeply engaged in deciphering their training plans, Fulan found himself briefly looking toward Kazuki. After a second, his gaze dropped back to his own set of documents.


    A single thought passed through his mind.


    So I''m not the only one in this class who fully understands his own ability.


    He then shifted his attention fully to the words written on the pages before him.


    I have to admit… he thought, scanning the detailed breakdown and thoughtful suggestions outlined by Instructor Makoto. This analysis and these recommendations are incredibly well thought out…


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    However—


    Unfortunately, everything written here about my ability is wrong.


    Fulan''s dark eyes lingered on the text.


    There are two fundamental methods to copying abilities. Without understanding those two methods, these documents are useless to me.


    Most of the report focused on White Tiger''s ability.


    A meaningless power that my body has simply grown used to.


    Just because it''s the first thing I think of, doesn''t mean it''s the strongest thing I can use.


    The classroom was wrapped in silence for a few minutes. Makoto-sensei observed his students with mild surprise as they read through the information he had given them, their expressions marked by deep concentration. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips.


    He was just about to turn towards his office, intending to let them process everything at their own pace, when a sharp thud echoed through the room.


    Mizayani, the pink-haired girl with a red headband and striking blue eyes, had slammed her hands against her desk, her face flushed with embarrassment.


    "What do you mean by ''walking in the air''?! And making the people around me float?!" she exclaimed, her tone dripping with disbelief. "What kind of powers do you think I have?"


    Makoto-sensei gazed at her calmly, unbothered by her outburst. Before he could respond, a voice from behind her spoke up.


    "As a rule, I''d usually say that a cute and charming girl like you doesn''t belong in a place like this."


    Asahi, the silver-eyed boy with snow-white hair, leaned back in his chair with a smirk, his words carrying a teasing arrogance.


    Mizayani''s expression instantly twisted in irritation, her blue eyes narrowing as she shot him a glare that could pierce through steel. But before she could fire back, Asahi casually added,


    "But seeing what Sensei wrote here… yeah, I get why you''re upset, Mizayani."


    His silver eyes shifted toward Makoto.


    "Sensei, you know I can create a semi-transparent shield just by punching or touching the air. But seriously, a dome around the entire Saita Kingdom? Who do you think I am?"


    At his words, Fulaan''s dark eyes widened in sheer astonishment. His mind reeled at the magnitude of such a task, and he found himself involuntarily imagining it—an enormous, shimmering barrier enveloping an entire kingdom. The thought sent a visible shiver through him.


    It wasn''t just Mizayani and Asahi; most of the students were overwhelmed by the seemingly impossible tasks written before them.


    Makoto-sensei, ever composed, exhaled softly before speaking.


    "This is a valid concern. However, I am not the one who will provide you with the answers."


    His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that made the students hang onto his every word.


    "In one month, the Annual Talent Festival will begin. It is an event where rewards and recognition are given to those who excel, attracting spectators from far and wide. Participation is usually optional, but for you all..."


    His gaze swept across the room, unyielding.


    "You will participate—whether you like it or not. This is an order. You need to understand just how weak you are compared to the rest of this academy. You have one month. Either you surpass your limits so that no one will mock your incompetence, or you remain at the bottom and suffer a humiliating defeat."


    A sharp silence followed.


    Then, Mizayani, her voice eerily calm, broke it.


    "Weak…? Me...?"


    Her blue eyes shimmered like gemstones, and the air around her stirred.


    Without warning, a fierce gust of wind erupted, sending papers, chairs, and even her desk tumbling through the air.


    Her pink hair whipped violently around her face, her uniform rippling as if caught in the heart of a storm. The entire classroom was consumed by the force of her power, and the students instinctively shielded their eyes against the sudden gale.


    A cold intensity burned in Mizayani''s gaze as she spoke, her voice cutting through the swirling wind like a blade.


    "Makoto, what exactly do you know about me?"


    The wind grew stronger, rattling the windows and sending loose sheets of paper fluttering like frightened birds.


    "I ranked third in the entrance exam''s speed trials," she continued, her tone sharp with defiance. "Who, exactly, do you think is stronger than me—in this class or any other?"


    The pressure in the room was suffocating. Students clutched their desks and papers, their hair and clothes billowing wildly as the storm intensified.


    But Makoto-sensei remained still, his gray hair shifting slightly with the wind. He had no intention of using his own power to stop her.


    "You''ll find the answer yourself at the Talent Festival," he said simply, his voice unwavering.


    For a moment, Mizayani''s teeth clenched in frustration. Then, her lips curled into a grin.


    "Fine," she said, her eyes gleaming with determination as the winds suddenly died down. The papers fluttered to the ground, the air settling as if nothing had happened. "All I have to do is participate, right? I''ll crush every single one of those so-called ''stronger'' students without bothering to learn these ''special moves.''"


    At this academy, students were given freedom to express themselves—even in ways as dramatic as this. There was no need to suppress them. Rather, a teacher''s role was to understand their way of thinking and guide them accordingly.


    This philosophy was best exemplified in the relationship between Hanabi Seranya, the violet-haired girl, and her teacher. The way her instructor spoke of her when she broke the rules suggested a bond closer to that of an older sister guiding a younger one.


    The role of a teacher was not just to instruct, but to be a mentor and a friend. This was the policy of the new headmaster.


    Three years ago, such rules had not existed. Everything had changed because of him.


    As Mizayani adjusted her chair and sat back down, another voice spoke up—calm and thoughtful.


    Lazaria, the blonde-haired girl with green eyes, turned her gaze toward Asahi, who still wore his usual smug expression.


    "By the way," she began, her tone measured, "I read in an old history book that the Saita Kingdom used to be called Madrid. It was the capital of a country known as Spain."


    Her eyes gleamed with curiosity as she continued.


    "When I compared the old world map to ours, I realized something... Madrid was just a tiny speck compared to the rest of the world."


    A pause. Then, she concluded with an eerie certainty,


    "If those records were accurate… that would mean we don''t even know one percent of our own world."


    Silence once again gripped the room.


    The students turned to look at Lazaria, their faces reflecting a mix of fascination and disbelief.


    Her words felt less like a statement and more like the opening to an unimaginable revelation.


    --


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