The dust of the neglected courtyard swirled around the black dress shoes of Instructor Gage.
He stood at the edge of the cracked earth, his hands resting casually inside the pockets of his fitted suit trousers.
To the twenty teenagers sitting on the ground, he looked entirely out of place.
He did not wear the heavy leather armor of a traditional combat master, nor did he carry the elegant, mana infused staff of a high ranking magus.
He looked like a man who belonged in a high society lounge, yet his sharp eyes held a cold, predatory stillness that made the rowdy murmurs of Class F slowly die down into an uneasy silence.
Before Gage could even introduce himself or speak a single word of his curriculum, the heavy, rhythmic tolling of a brass bell echoed across the academy grounds.
The sound vibrated through the stone walls, carrying from the direction of the grand central coliseum.
The moment the bell rang, the scrawny teenagers of Class F collectively flinched.
Several of them looked down at the dirt, their shoulders slumping in visible dread.
The atmosphere in the courtyard shifted from general misery to pure, suffocating fear.
"It is time," a boy near the front whispered, his voice trembling as he stared at the ground.
"They are going to drag him out again. They always do this on the first day of the term."
Gage did not ask for clarification.
He simply watched as the heavy iron gates of the courtyard were pushed open with a loud, mocking slam.
Three older students stepped into the yard.
They wore the pristine, silver embroidered white robes of Class A, their chests adorned with glittering family crests that practically screamed noble lineage.
The leader of the trio, a tall boy with an arrogant smirk and a beautifully crafted catalyst wand strapped to his hip, scanned the crowd of commoners until his eyes landed on a specific target near the back.
"Crimson," the noble student called out, his voice dripping with condescension.
"The arena is waiting. Master Julian requires a moving target for his morning fire magic demonstration. Move your legs, commoner, unless you want us to drag you through the mud by your hair."
From the back of the crowd, a boy with messy, unkempt red hair slowly stood up.
He was incredibly scrawny, his uniform torn and patched in multiple places.
His knees shook so violently that he could barely keep his balance.
This was Crimson, the absolute bottom of the academy food chain.
He looked at the Class A nobles with wide, terrified eyes.
He wanted to refuse, but he knew the rules of Pristina all too well.
Public challenges from high nobility could technically be turned down, but the psychological and physical torment that followed a refusal was always ten times worse.
Backed into a corner by pure intimidation, Crimson nodded weakly, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists in fear.
"I am coming," he choked out.
The noble students laughed, turning on their heels to lead their prey toward the coliseum.
Crimson followed them like a ghost, his head bowed, entirely unaware that his new instructor was quietly falling into step a few paces behind the group.
Ten minutes later, Gage stood in the cold shadows of the massive stone arena stands.
The coliseum was packed with hundreds of laughing noble students, all cheering from their cushioned seats as if they were attending a festive circus.
Down in the center of the sand pit, Crimson stood alone, looking like a lamb brought to the slaughter.
Standing opposite him was Julian, a prominent noble from Class A.
Julian wore glowing silver armor and held a crystal tipped wand that hummed with volatile fire mana.
"Begin!" the referee shouted, stepping back.
Crimson did not even have time to adopt a proper stance.
Julian gave a casual flick of his wrist.
A condensed ball of roaring orange flame erupted from his wand, tearing across the distance in a fraction of a second.
It slammed directly into Crimson's chest, lifting his lightweight body completely off the ground and throwing him violently into the dirt.
The crowd cheered in delight, shouting insults at the burning commoner.
Up in the dark shadows of the stadium, Gage watched the display without a single hint of emotion on his face.
He slowly narrowed his eyes, and the world before him shifted.
The loud cheers of the crowd faded into a low hum as his minimalist system interface activated, overlaying sharp, glowing text directly over Crimson's battered form.
Name: Crimson
Class: F
Current Condition: Blunt force trauma, superficial burns
Hidden Talent: Unmatched Explosive Speed
Reflex Potential: Grade SSR
Current Flaws: Severe fear response, completely drops right guard when retreating, center of gravity is entirely too high
Gage analyzed the numbers with absolute precision.
The system did not lie.
Crimson was small, scrawny, and currently terrified out of his mind, but beneath that layer of fear lay an incredible, tightly coiled physical spring.
His natural speed potential was absolute madness, and his reaction speed potential was rated at a godly SSR rank.
The brilliant academy mages called him a talentless reject simply because his body could not hold or channel magical mana, completely missing the fact that his physical anatomy was engineered to be a lethal weapon.
Down in the sand pit, the duel quickly devolved from a match into pure, unadulterated torture.
Crimson scrambled backward on his hands and knees, desperately trying to evade.
However, because his center of gravity was too high and his fear response was completely unmanaged, his movements were chaotic and predictable.
Julian did not end the match.
He purposefully cast low level searing sparks, intentionally burning Crimson's arms and legs bit by bit.
He laughed out loud as the commoner rolled frantically in the sand, trying to extinguish the small fires eating away at his uniform.
"Stand up, trash," Julian mocked, stepping forward and firing another concentrated blast that sliced a deep, bleeding gash right across Crimson's cheek.
"Show the academy the grand power of Class F physical combat."
Crimson was bleeding heavily now, coughing up a mixture of saliva and dark blood into the dirt.
His vision was fading, and his body was shutting down from the overwhelming pain.
He lay flat on his back, staring blankly up at the bright sky, completely broken.
Seeing that the boy was on the verge of losing consciousness, the referee finally stepped between the two students, raising a single hand to signal the end.
"Match over! Winner, Julian of Class A!"
The stadium erupted into applause as Julian casually wiped his wand with a silk handkerchief, walking back toward the noble tunnels without a care in the world.
Crimson remained motionless in the red stained sand, abandoned by the arena staff who showed absolutely zero urgency in fetching a stretcher for a commoner.
Before anyone else could step into the pit, a sharp, crisp pair of black dress shoes stepped onto the sand.
Instructor Gage walked right past the arena guards, his tailored suit completely clean despite the dusty environment.
He knelt down beside the unconscious, bloody boy, calmly pressing two fingers against Crimson's neck.
The pulse was incredibly weak and fluttering, but the boy was still clinging to life.
Gage reached into his inner suit pocket, pulled out a basic medical ointment, and lightly applied it to the worst of the burns on the boy's chest.
A soft, clear chime echoed strictly within Gage's mind, bringing up his personal status screen.
System Initialized
Host: Instructor Gage
Current Points Available: 0
Unlock the potential of your students to earn Feedback Rewards and attribute points
Gage looked down at Crimson, whose eyes slowly fluttered open.
The boy's gaze was entirely vacant, filled with a mixture of physical pain, hot tears, and a deep, crushing sense of public humiliation.
"I am... a failure," Crimson choked out, his voice cracked and barely audible above the lingering whispers of the crowd.
"I can't do anything. They are right. I am just trash."
Gage stood up to his full height, his broad shoulders towering over the broken boy.
He casually tucked his hands back into his suit pockets, his piercing eyes looking down at his very first student with an absolute, unwavering level of confidence.
"You are not trash," Gage said, his low, calm voice carrying a terrifying weight that caused the nearby arena guards to instinctively freeze in place.
"They are simply blind to what is right in front of them."
"I can see every single one of your flaws, Crimson."
"Now, get up."
"Let me turn you into a monster."
Author's Note:
Hey everyone! For those curious about how the system potential and stat ranking works in this world, here is a quick breakdown from lowest to highest
F,E,D,C,B,A,S,SS,SSR,UR,LR,EX,Ancient / Origin,Divine / Mythic.