After the end of the first class of the day in Arcanthia, Froy moved on to the second class—Combat Class.
The training ground was massive. Over eight hundred students had gathered, each choosing their weapon and waiting for the arrival of Professor Vandersen, the so-called Master of All Weapons—also nicknamed Jack of All Trades.
When the professor finally showed up, his aura was calm and unfazed. But yeah… he kinda looked like a funny, chill guy. He had black hair, green eyes, and a scar over his left eye. Rumor had it he once fought an Unnamed Monster—something so powerful no one else could even handle it. In the end, he survived… as an equal.
Students whispered excitedly about him.
"Alright, alright students!" Professor Vandersen called out, his tone relaxed. "Grab a weapon—any one you like. This class is easy and chill. Here's how it goes: 1v1 duels."
"If you win, congrats! You're free to go. Chill in your dorm, take a walk, do whatever."
"But if you lose… you'll run 100 laps around this big-ass training ground and clean up the whole place in the evening."
A few groans. A few laughs.
"That's it. I'll teach you how to use your weapons later, but let's see the basics first," the professor added. "I'll call your rank number, and you'll step forward to fight."
The crowd relaxed. It felt like the most chill class in the entire academy… at least, if you were good.
Then the professor called out:
"Rank 101 and 996! Step forward!"
Top vs. bottom?
Whispers swept through the students. The top-ranked vs. the absolute last?
And yes—Froy stepped forward.
He wasn't the top. He was the bottom—ranked 996.
But that didn't mean he was weak.
The rankings were based on the second trial, a display of raw power. Froy had only lightly shoved his dummy and walked off. So, naturally, he landed at the very bottom.
Now, as he stepped into the ring, the crowd began to notice his appearance—unnaturally beautiful, calm, composed.
Then his opponent showed up.
No older than thirteen. Arrogant.
"What's up, peasant?" the boy sneered. "You look like nothing but a pretty face."
"Beware me—Luke Brondo, son of Count Brondo of Solmira!"
He was a purple-haired, purple-eyed boy—the unmistakable symbol of the Brondo clan.
Froy stood across from him, completely relaxed.
"All you can do is yap?" Froy said with a smile. "I guess that's how you got to the top spot."
That did it.
Luke's face twisted with rage.
"What!? You fuckin' peasant! You wanna die so soon?!"
He screamed.
And the crowd roared in excitement.
Professor Vandersen appeared between them like a lazy storm cloud."Chill, kids. The fight hasn't even started yet. Go pick your weapons."
Luke scoffed."I don't need a weapon to kick his ass. Rank 996? What a joke. I'm Rank 101—almost made Elite Class! You're dead!"
Froy didn't react.
Luke's yapping meant nothing.
Instead, Froy calmly walked over to the weapon rack.
He could've chosen a sword. A dagger. Even a spear.
But he didn't.
Froy picked up a great axe—larger than most would dare to wield.
Why?
Because Froy had incredible aim. And in his hands, even a weapon this heavy could become precise and brutal.
He turned.Luke turned.
They stood face to face on the open field.
Professor Vandersen raised a lazy hand and smirked."Alright, kids. Simple rules. If you can't fight anymore, you lose. Or just say 'I surrender.' That works too."
Just as the fight was about to begin, a nervous voice rang out from the side of the crowd.
"Careful!"It was Lynda, the nerdy girl with glasses."He has telekinesis! It messes with his focus! That's your chance—break his concentration!"
Luke's face twisted in rage."Shut the hell up, you four-eyed peasant! Don't help this piece of trash!"
He turned back to Froy, eyes blazing."If you get on your knees and beg right now, I might let you crawl away alive."
Froy's eyes narrowed.
"You'll regret not dying fast," he said quietly.
Professor Vandersen gave a lazy wave."Alright, you two done bluffing?Three…Two…One—fight."
The distance between them: ten meters.
Luke grinned. He had the range advantage.His attribute magic? Fire and lightning—a rare dual-element combo, but not unheard of. A few Elite Class students had more. Special Class had even greater monsters.
Luke's lips moved in a rapid chant.A massive fireball formed in the air, crackling with orange heat.Then—telekinesis.He split the fireball into dozens—no, hundreds—of flaming arrows.
The arrows hovered.Paused.Then Luke grinned.
"Die, peasant!!"
The fire arrows shot toward the sky—then rained down like burning death.
But Froy?
He moved.
No—he walked.
Slowly. Casually.
A menace in motion.
The enchanted fire arrows screamed through the air, empowered further by streaks of lightning. It was a storm.
But something was off.
They missed.
Not by much. Just a sliver. A hair.
But none hit.
They curved away from Froy at the last second—just enough to graze past.
"What the fuck was that?!" Luke shouted, his voice cracked with disbelief. "They were supposed to hit you! You should be dead!"
The crowd buzzed—some cheering, others frozen.
Lynda?She couldn't even breathe.
Professor Vandersen?
He just watched.
Calm.
Amused.
Waiting.
"If that did nothing... then I'll use everything I have to send you straight to hell!"Luke roared as he lifted himself into the air with the power of telekinesis.
He began chanting—quick incantations of lightning magic—then summoned flame to fuse with the electricity, forming a volatile elemental storm. He hovered high above the training ground, eyes burning with fury.
"Now DIE!" he screamed.
From the skies, lightning-strike after lightning-strike crashed down upon Froy.Over and over again.The ground erupted. Fire roared. Smoke rose like curtains.
The crowd went wild.
Flames licked at Froy's body, burning cloth and flesh alike—but not to ash.Then Luke grinned, eyes glowing purple, and used his telekinesis to lift Froy's limp form from the charred ground. He clenched his invisible grip around Froy's neck, tightening until the bones cracked.
The sound echoed.
And then, silence.
Luke laughed like a madman, raising both hands triumphantly.
"Luke! Luke! Luke!" the crowd chanted in waves.
Professor Vandersen stepped forward slowly. "You did great," he said coolly."You'll be sponsored into the Special Class."
Luke's eyes widened. "Oh my god! Thank you, Professor!"
But then… something shifted.
His vision blurred. His breath hitched.
He blinked.
And Froy was standing in front of him.
Alive.
Unburned.
Grinning.
A cold, menacing grin that sent chills down Luke's spine.
"What… what the—?"
Then Luke noticed it.
He was choking.
But not because of Froy.
He was choking himself.
His telekinesis—out of control—was crushing his own windpipe.
Before he could release the grip, the thing before him leaned in close and whispered coldly:
"Welcome back to reality."
CRACK!
Froy's fist slammed into Luke's chin—clean and brutal. Milk teeth flew from Luke's mouth as his head snapped back, and his body hit the dirt hard.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Confusion. Horror. Awe.
From the audience's point of view, Luke had defeated Froy, only to suddenly choke himself and fall after one punch.
No one had noticed what really happened.
Froy had let him think he won.
Professor Vandersen walked over, arms crossed.
"Didn't you go a little far, kid?" he asked casually.
"It could've been worse. I had an axe."Froy replied coolly.
The professor smirked. "You talk like you've killed before."
Froy didn't answer.
Instead, he turned toward the crowd and gave a soft nod.
"Thanks for the event. I enjoyed it… more than I expected."
As he walked away, toward the dorms, he reflected—not on the crowd, or the cheers, or the fear—but on his power.
Five Sense Manipulation.The Messiah of the End.
Even in its low state, it was potent.
He could bend perception—shift reality itself through their senses.
And as long as no one suspected him, it would remain his greatest weapon.
"The darkness," he thought, "is always expected to lurk in the shadows. But no one ever suspects it when it stands in the light."
"So I'll be it. The darkness… not hiding behind the light—but standing within it."
They could call him whatever they wanted.
"A pawn."
"A false messiah."
"Alzareth."
"A liar."
"A monster."
Whatever they call me...
I'm still me.
I am Froy.
And that's all that matters.