[A/N: For the illustrations of the new characters, join my Discord.

Discord: https://discord.gg/dEWsPqDRFh]

---

Chapter 57: The First Lecture

The Special Class lecture hall was not a normal classroom. It was a reinforced bunker.

The walls were lined with thick steel plating and glowing defensive runes. There were exactly ten desks arranged in a semi-circle.

This was the domain of the Top Ten.

Draven sat at his desk near the back corner. He leaned his chin on his hand and watched the chaos unfold.

"You hold that spear like a club, Logcheville," Lucien Vaelmont stated smoothly.

Lucien sat two desks away. He wore a pristine, perfectly tailored Vanguard uniform. A thin, elegant rapier rested against his desk.

He was Rank Six, the Tempest Fencer, and the heir to the Vaelmont house. He possessed an aristocratic arrogance that rivaled Aegon’s.

"And you hold that rapier like a knitting needle, Vaelmont," Aegon shot back instantly, resting his heavy boots on his desk.

"A real weapon needs weight. If you block my strike with that toothpick, your arm will shatter."

"A barbaric perspective," Lucien sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Speed and precision dictate the battlefield. I do not need to block your heavy strikes. I simply need to cut your throat before you finish swinging."

It was a sharp war of words. The tension in the room felt incredibly thick.

But Draven watched them closely. He could read their body language perfectly. They were talking big, but neither of them was actually preparing to fight.

’His footwork is entirely flawless,’ Aegon thought internally, his crimson eyes locking onto Lucien’s posture.

’Even sitting down, his center of gravity is perfectly balanced. If he gets inside my spear’s guard, I will take a serious hit. He is incredibly dangerous.’

’His aura is absurdly dense,’ Lucien analyzed in his own mind, maintaining his calm smile.

’The ambient heat radiating from his body is suffocating. A direct parry is out of the question. I have to respect his raw power.’

They were not enemies. They were two apex predators measuring each other’s fangs. It was a fiery, competitive rivalry that would only make them both stronger.

"Would anyone like a blueberry muffin?" a deep, rumbling voice asked politely.

Bram Stoneheart stood up from his desk. He was Rank Nine. He was seven feet tall and built like a walking mountain.

A massive, door-sized tower shield was strapped to his back. Despite his terrifying appearance, he was holding a small pink basket filled with fresh pastries.

"I baked them this morning," Bram offered with a gentle smile.

"Are they poisoned?" Nyx Vespera asked from the darkest corner of the room.

Nyx was Rank Eight. She wore a dark hood pulled low over her pale face. She did not walk normally. She seemed to just melt out of the shadows whenever she moved.

"No," Bram looked genuinely hurt by the question. "They are just blueberries."

"Boring," Nyx muttered, shrinking back into the dark corner.

"I will take one!" Lyra Voltaire shouted enthusiastically.

Lyra was Rank Ten. Her uniform was slightly singed at the edges. Her fingers were stained with dark alchemical ink. She grabbed a muffin and immediately placed a glowing red paper tag on top of it.

"Wait," Cole Rust rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes from the next desk. "Do not put an explosive rune on the food, Lyra."

"I just want to see if the blueberries pop!" Lyra argued.

BANG!

The heavy steel doors of the classroom were violently kicked open.

The entire class instantly went silent. Lyra quietly peeled the explosive tag off her muffin. Aegon took his boots off the desk. Lucien sat perfectly straight.

A massive man walked into the room. He wore heavy gray armor covered in deep claw marks and acid burns. Half of his face was covered in a jagged, terrifying scar. His eyes were cold and completely devoid of warmth.

He walked to the front of the room and slammed a thick clipboard onto the podium.

"I am Instructor Garrick Stonehelm," the man growled. His voice sounded like grinding rocks.

"I am in charge of your Combat Tactics and Survival course."

Stonehelm crossed his massive arms. He glared at the ten prodigies sitting before him.

"I do not care about your noble titles. I do not care about your entrance exam scores. I do not care if your father is the Bastion Commander or a street beggar," Stonehelm stated brutally.

"The wildlands do not care either. A monster will rip your throat out regardless of how much money is in your bank account."

He leaned forward, his heavy aura pressing down on the room.

"My teaching philosophy is simple," Stonehelm continued.

"Practical suffering. You learn by bleeding. You learn by failing. If you make a mistake in my class, I will punish you physically until your muscles remember not to do it again. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," the class answered in unison.

"Let us see who actually showed up," Stonehelm picked up the clipboard. "Aegon Logcheville."

"Here," Aegon answered sharply.

"Reina."

"Here."

"Estella."

"Present," she nodded.

"Draven Mordis."

"Here," Draven replied flatly.

Stonehelm quickly went down the rest of the list. Tokks, Lucien, Cole, Nyx, Bram, and Lyra all confirmed their attendance.

The Top Ten were all present and accounted for.

"Good," Stonehelm dropped the clipboard. "Now let us see if your reflexes match your ranks."

Stonehelm did not give a warning. He did not ask them to stand up.

He suddenly reached into his armored coat and pulled out a handful of heavy iron throwing spikes.

He channeled his massive aura into his arm and threw them directly at the students with lethal, blinding speed.

It was a completely unfair surprise attack.

Aegon reacted purely on instinct. A wall of crimson fire erupted from his palm, instantly melting the iron spike into harmless slag before it could hit his face.

Reina raised her metal gauntlet and caught the spike an inch from her nose, freezing the metal solid.

Estella formed a dense blue starlight barrier that deflected the projectile into the ceiling.

Lucien drew his rapier with invisible speed, slicing the iron spike perfectly in half with a crackle of lightning.

A single iron spike shot directly toward Draven’s forehead.

Draven did not panic. He did not summon a massive spell. He sat perfectly still in his chair.

Neville Hennesy was dead. The original plot of the novel was completely shattered.

Draven knew it was now his absolute responsibility to handle the threats that the original protagonist was supposed to defeat.

He needed to establish his authority without revealing his true limits.

Draven locked his pitch-black eyes onto the incoming spike. He subtly activated his Vector Manipulation.

He did not stop the spike. He simply altered its aerodynamic friction. He created a microscopic pocket of dense air right in front of the blade.

SWISH!

The iron spike inexplicably curved at the very last microsecond. It missed Draven’s cheek by exactly one millimeter and buried itself deep into the steel plating of the wall behind him.

Draven slowly blinked. He had barely moved a single muscle. He made it look like an incredibly precise, minimal-effort evasion technique.

Instructor Stonehelm narrowed his scarred eyes. He had watched the entire exchange carefully. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

He saw Aegon’s raw power and Lucien’s perfect speed. But Draven’s reaction was entirely different.

’He did not even flinch,’ Stonehelm noted internally, highly impressed.

’His spatial awareness and kinetic judgment are completely flawless. He only moved exactly as much as he needed to. That is the reaction of a seasoned killer.’

"Acceptable," Stonehelm announced out loud, completely ignoring the fact that he had just thrown lethal weapons at teenagers.

"Your raw instincts are decent. But raw instincts will not save you against a coordinated Beast Wave."

Stonehelm walked around the podium and pointed toward the massive double doors.

"Get out of your chairs," Stonehelm barked loudly.

"We are going to the training hall. I am going to teach you how to properly break a man’s arm. Move!"

The students quickly stood up and filed out of the room.

Draven walked out behind Aegon. He looked down at his own hands. The minor kinetic shift had cost him almost zero mana.

His control over the fundamental laws of physics was growing sharper every single day.

The threats of Bastion Seven were rising. The Cult was scheming in the dark. But Draven was completely ready.

He would turn this class of arrogant prodigies into his own personal Vanguard, and he would command them from the shadows.