The campus pulsed with life—laughter bouncing through stone corridors, chatter spilling from sunlit courtyards, footsteps echoing against polished marble floors.
But today felt different.
Something unseen rippled in the air.
Because today… someone new was walking these halls.
Not a transfer.
Not a prodigy.
A boy from the streets.
---
[A Few Days Ago – Principal's Office]
Professor Kuroda stood firm, hands clasped behind his back.
Professor Kuroda (calm but stern):
"I've seen his will. His instinct. His discipline. He's not here to waste time. Let him into college-level classes."
Principal Daichi frowned, fingers steepled.
Principal Daichi:
"He hasn't even finished grade school. No records, no formal education—just hearsay and your word."
Kuroda:
"And my word should be enough. This boy is sharp. Life hasn't given him a chance, but that ends here. Let him experience student life. He'll earn every step."
The principal studied him a moment longer. Then sighed.
Principal Daichi:
"…Fine. But if he causes trouble—he's out."
Kuroda (smirking faintly):
"He won't. Not the kind you're thinking of."
---
[Present Day – Room 3A, Combat Theory Department]
The classroom buzzed with energy.
Dozens of students filtered in, hunters-in-training from all walks of privilege. Most bore clean uniforms, high spirits, and families with guild ties. Some boasted mana surges already stirring in their veins.
Then the door creaked open.
And in walked Rover.
Silence swept through the room like a stormfront.
He wore the academy uniform, but it didn't hide the truths carved into his skin—burn scars on his palms, a brutal line across his neck, a faded wound tracing his cheekbone. He didn't move like the others.
He moved like someone who had fought to stay alive.
Eyes followed him.
Student A (whispering):
"Isn't that the kid who used to sleep behind the vending machines?"
Student B (in disbelief):
"They really let a street rat in?"
Student C (murmuring):
"...he looks like he's actually seen combat."
Student D:
"Bet he's killed more things than half of us."
Rover ignored them all. Sat quietly at the back corner. His eyes were steady—hollow, but focused. Watching. Waiting.
Then—
A slow, mocking clap.
Gan Sae Bok.
The fire-type.
The golden son of a mid-tier guild. Leering from his front-row seat like a wolf spotting weakness.
Gan (loudly):
"Well, well… look what the gutter dragged in. Didn't know we were doing charity work now."
Laughter flickered around the room, hesitant and cruel.
Gan stood, walking toward the back.
Gan:
"Tell me, Rover. You want that seat, or should I burn it down for you?"
Rover didn't even blink.
Rover (flat, calm):
"You can try."
A hush fell. Students held their breath.
Gan's eye twitched.
Then the door swung open.
Professor Kuroda entered.
Kuroda (smiling politely):
"Mr. Sae Bok. Sit. Try not to incinerate anyone before class starts."
Gan scowled but obeyed, shooting Rover a venomous glance as he sat.
Professor Kuroda (to the class):
"Today, we welcome a new student.
He's walked a harder path than any of you.
He's here to prove something—not just to us, but to himself."
He turned toward the back.
Kuroda:
"Rover, say a few words."
Rover stood slowly.
Some students leaned in. Others snickered.
Then—
Rover (voice steady):
"My name is Rover.
I've slept on concrete.
Fought goblins with stone blades.
Buried the only family I had before I turned six.
If you're here to compete, fine.
If you're here to look down on me—don't bother.
I'm not here to make friends.
I'm here to become a hunter.
And I won't stop until I do."
He sat back down.
Silence.
No one moved.
Even Gan was quiet.
Then—softly, a single clap.
Ayaka, at the far end of the room, arms folded.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Ayaka (to herself):
"Welcome to hell, kid."
---
To be continue…