one by one, each of us stepped forward to spar with Sheila.
And one by one… we were all flattened.
Every time a name was called, the result was the same: bruises, battered egos, and miserable faces. Some couldn't even walk back straight. Our so-called pride was shattered like glass against steel.
Then came Miguel's turn.
Everyone straightened up.
As soon as the fight began, Miguel showed his talent. Fast, fluid, and calculated. He wasn't just strong—he was composed. He managed to hold out longer than anyone else so far—a full 45 seconds.
The class gasped. i wasn't suprised since I've already anticipated it
Andrea clapped and praised him loudly afterward, her eyes sparkling in admiration. I watched in silence, expression unreadable.
After a few more turns, Luna was called next.
Without hesitation, she walked forward. The moment the fight began, her movements were sharp and precise. Luna was cold, yes, but she had trained seriously. Her sword style was elegant and efficient, like winter wind slicing through silk.
She lasted 41 seconds, only slightly behind Miguel.
The class murmured in awe. Even Sheila gave a subtle nod.
Luna scoffed at the applause, flipping her hair and walking off like it was nothing.
Then—to my surprise—a familiar name echoed through the ground.
"Fatty! You're up!"
Fatty.
Yes, that Fatty. In the game, he was the main character's best friend at the Academy—loyal, comic relief, and surprisingly clever. He hadn't been present until now because he missed yesterday's introduction.
He waddled forward—well, not too badly. He wasn't that fat, more chubby than anything. If he lost a few pounds, he'd be undeniably handsome: smooth black hair, tired brown eyes barely visible behind his round cheeks.
I watched, mildly amused, as he raised his shield.
Not bad. He managed to endure 16 seconds before Sheila disarmed him with a single flick of her wrist.
No one laughed.
Honestly, that was better than expected. Respectable, even.
And then… it was Andrea's turn.
Before she stepped forward, I reached out and gave her a gentle pat on the head. Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with determination.
"You got this," I said with a wink.
She nodded, cheeks pink. "Mm!"
Andrea wasn't a close-combat fighter. Her strength lay in her spiritual beast—the Hellhound. She had decent speed too, enough to dodge most attacks at her level.
As she walked to the center of the training ground, she unlatched the leash wrapped around her Hellhound's neck.
The beast appeared with a low growl—black as midnight, taller than me if it stood on its hind legs, its eyes glowing a bloody red.
Even I gulped.
Andrea gave the command.
The Hellhound launched forward like a shadow given form. Its speed was ferocious.
Sheila yawned, clearly bored, but still swatted the Hellhound's lunges aside with her wooden sword. Still, a faint smirk played on her lips—amused. Andrea's coordination and reaction time were excellent.
If it had been someone on her level, Sheila thought, they would have struggled.
Of everyone so far, only Andrea, Miguel, and Luna had shown actual potential. Sheila decided she'd keep a close eye on those three.
Andrea lasted 35 seconds. When she returned, a bruise bloomed on her cheek, but she still looked proud.
Like a kitten who just got scolded, she looked up at me with those wide, watery eyes. My heart wavered a little.
I couldn't help myself. I leaned close and teased, "Aww… look at you. So adorable, all bruised up. Want me to kiss it better?"
She pouted, then weakly punched my abs.
Her fist froze.
"...Eh?"
Her eyes widened. Her hand remained on my chest, as if it just hit steel. She blinked up at me.
"W-why are you built like this…?"
Before I could answer, Sheila's voice echoed across the training ground.
"You. You're next."
My turn.
I smiled down at Andrea. "At least pray I don't end up with a broken jaw."
She gave me a look that was half worry, half disbelief. "Good luck…"
I walked up, stretching my arms as I approached Sheila.
She didn't say anything. Just stared at me with a bored, dismissive look—like I was just another worm crawling into her web.
I met her gaze and gave a slight bow.
No words.
Just focus.
The moment the fight began, I lunged—not with a basic slash, but a feint. I twisted mid-air and delivered a spinning kick aimed at her shoulder.
She raised an eyebrow, surprised by my flexibility.
She dodged,
As my first leg touched down, my second one lashed out in a follow-up kick. Quick. Unpredictable.
She stepped back, dodging again.
Her expression changed slightly—mild interest replacing boredom.
I pressed in. The third kick came while I was still airborne, my body bending unnaturally for a follow-through most people couldn't manage.
She evaded it with ease. Our difference in rank was still obvious.
But then… I stopped.
I didn't go for another flashy move. I just stood still, blade lowered.
Confused? Good.
She hesitated. Maybe I was out of moves. Maybe I was baiting her.
Then she struck.
And I lost.
But not before I lasted 20 seconds.
Not bad.
I rolled my shoulders as I stood, a few bruises already forming but nothing serious.
Sheila stared at me, her gaze unreadable. She wasn't sure if I had truly shown my full capability—or if I had deliberately held back.
Either way, I had her curiosity now.
My classmates murmured among themselves, surprised by the initial exchanges, but comforted by the fact that I still lost like the others.
Miguel, Luna, and Andrea had watched my spar. Their expressions were a mix of amusement and neutrality. Nothing special.
But as I stretched after the fight while Sheila was still testing the others and unconsciously My Seductive Aura had accidentally leaked.
Oops.
A few girls nearby froze, their eyes locking onto my body as I arched back, the muscles of my abs tightening visibly through my shirt. My six-pack wasn't just defined—it was god-tier. Sculpted by divine hands.
I heard at least two throats gulp.
Andrea blinked, her face turning pink again.
She stared, wide-eyed, then looked away, covering her cheeks.
"…He really works out," she mumbled under her breath.