The boy managed to turn just in time.
Garin's instincts kicked in at the last possible second, and he twisted his body, bringing the chain up defensively. Jelo's sword struck the metal links with a sharp, ringing clang that echoed through the entire training hall.
But the force behind Jelo's strike was devastating.
The impact sent Garin flying backward across the room like he'd been hit by a truck. His body crashed into the far wall with a sickening thud, the reinforced surface cracking slightly from the impact. He crumpled to the ground in a heap, groaning, the chain and sickle falling from his hands and clattering uselessly on the floor beside him.
The entire class fell into stunned silence.
Every student stood frozen, their mouths hanging open in shock. Some had their weapons halfway raised, others had stopped mid-conversation, all of them staring at Jelo with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Even Teacher Takayuki looked surprised. His eyebrows had shot up, and his arms had uncrossed. He stared at Jelo with narrowed eyes, his expression shifting from shock to something more analytical, more calculating. He was reassessing everything he thought he knew about this rank F student.
Jelo stood in the center of the training mat, his sword still raised, his chest heaving with emotion. Anger burned through his veins like fire, hot and uncontrollable. His eyes were locked on Garin's collapsed form against the wall, and for a moment, he seriously considered walking over there and finishing what he'd started.
But then his thoughts shifted.
He thought about the hierarchy system—the foundation upon which this entire academy was built. The strong preyed on the weak. The powerful crushed the powerless. It was accepted, normalized, even encouraged as a way to "toughen up" students and prepare them for the real world.
Jelo was sick of it.
He was tired of watching people get treated like garbage just because they weren't born with the right abilities or the right stats. Tired of seeing students like Atlas get beaten down and humiliated for no reason other than someone stronger feeling like it. Tired of the system protecting bullies and punishing victims.
In that moment, standing over Garin's fallen body, Jelo made a decision.
He would stand up for the weak whenever he could. It didn't matter if he knew them personally or not. If someone was being bullied, if someone was being hurt by those who thought strength gave them the right to be cruel, Jelo would step in.
Especially his friends. He would protect them. He would fight for them. Whenever necessary, no matter the cost.
This was who he was going to be.
Movement caught his attention.
Garin's friend—the stocky boy with the permanent sneer from earlier—rushed forward from the edge of the training area. His face was twisted with rage, his fists clenched, clearly ready to fight Jelo and avenge his friend.
"You bastard!" the boy shouted, closing the distance quickly.
Jelo turned to face him, his sword still raised, his body shifting into a defensive stance. He was ready. If this boy wanted to fight, Jelo would fight. If all of Garin's friends wanted to come at him at once, fine. He'd face all of them.
Let them come.
But before the stocky boy could reach him, Teacher Takayuki moved.
The short, pudgy man was suddenly between them, one hand raised toward each student in a stopping gesture. His expression had shifted from analytical surprise to stern authority.
"ENOUGH!" Takayuki's voice boomed through the training hall with shocking force, echoing off the walls and making several students flinch. "This is not behavior worthy of academy students! You should all be ashamed!"
The stocky boy skidded to a halt, his momentum stopped by the teacher's commanding presence. He looked like he wanted to argue, wanted to push past and get to Jelo anyway, but he didn't quite dare challenge a teacher directly.
Takayuki turned his gaze to Jelo, his eyes hard. "Lower your weapon, student."
Jelo hesitated for just a moment, the anger still burning hot in his chest. Then, slowly, he lowered his sword.
"This is a training exercise," Takayuki continued, his voice still carrying that edge of command. "Not a battlefield. Not a place for personal vendettas. The purpose of sparring is to learn, to improve, to understand your weaknesses and strengthen them. It is not an opportunity to seriously injure your classmates!"
He looked around at the assembled students, his gaze sweeping across all of them. "If I see behavior like this again—from any of you—there will be severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"
A chorus of muttered "Yes, sir" responses came from the class.
Takayuki nodded sharply. "Good. Now, someone help Garin to the medical wing. The rest of you, we're continuing with sparring. Next pair, step forward."
Several students rushed over to help Garin to his feet. The boy was conscious but dazed, his face pale and his movements shaky as they supported him on either side and guided him toward the exit.
As they passed by Jelo, Garin lifted his head just enough to shoot him a look of pure hatred. His eyes promised revenge, promised that this wasn't over.
Jelo met his gaze steadily, unflinching.
The class resumed, though the energy had changed completely. Students were more cautious now, more careful. The earlier casual confidence had been replaced by wariness. Everyone was acutely aware that there was more going on beneath the surface than they'd realized.
Jelo stepped back to the edge of the training area, his sword still in hand. Atlas was sitting nearby, having moved off the mat while one of the students with a healing ability worked on patching up his slashed arms. The cuts weren't deep enough to be life-threatening, but they were painful and bleeding heavily.
Atlas looked up at Jelo as he approached, his expression complicated—gratitude mixed with worry mixed with something else Jelo couldn't quite identify.
"Thanks," Atlas said quietly. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did," Jelo replied simply.
Ken appeared beside them, his usual cheerful expression replaced by something more serious. He looked at Jelo with a mixture of respect and concern. "That was… intense," he said. "I didn't know you could hit that hard."
"Neither did I," Jelo admitted.
The rest of the class continued with sparring matches, though Jelo barely paid attention. His mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment over and over, analyzing what he'd done and what it meant.
Eventually, after what felt like hours but was probably only another forty minutes, Teacher Takayuki called an end to the session.
"Class dismissed," he announced. "Remember what you learned today. Practice your forms. And think carefully about the kind of fighter you want to become."
The students began filing out, collecting their belongings and heading toward the exit. The chatter was subdued, everyone still processing what had happened.
Jelo, Ken, and Atlas walked out together. Atlas's arms were bandaged now, the bleeding stopped, though he still moved carefully to avoid aggravating the wounds.
As they walked down the corridor, Jelo felt something familiar rising in his gut. That same burning sensation he'd felt before. That obsessive fixation, that overwhelming desire for revenge that consumed everything else.
He thought about Garin. About the way he'd continued attacking Atlas even after he'd surrendered. About the cruelty in his eyes, the satisfaction he'd taken from hurting someone weaker than himself.
The anger hadn't faded. If anything, it was growing stronger.
Jelo felt like he hadn't yet fully avenged what had happened. Like this wasn't finished. Like there was more that needed to be done.
He turned to Atlas. "What was that guy's name?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Atlas glanced at him, seeming to understand immediately what Jelo was really asking. "Garin," he said quietly. "His name is Garin."
Jelo nodded slowly, committing the name to memory.
And then, like a whisper in the back of his mind, the system notification appeared.
[New Quest: Take Revenge on Garin]
[Reward: +40 ESS, New Skill]