Captain Grit took a deep breath as the last of the whispers faded, his fingers steepled beneath his beard, eyes heavy with the weight of experience.
"Now listen carefully, all of you," he said, walking to the front of the class. "You've all been clapping, cheering, gawking over the Sword Immortal, but it's time you learn why his actions shook the hero system to its core."
He tapped the board behind him, which now glowed with faint holographic text listing roles and responsibilities. The title read in bold: F-RANK SUPERHERO DUTIES.
"F-ranked superheroes," he began, "make up the foundation of our society's protection structure. They're not supposed to be flashy. They're not supposed to take glory. No. Their work is the sinew, the muscle, the unseen lifeblood of this entire damned world."
He turned slowly, scanning every face in the room.
