When I entered the training hall, I saw a crowd of students gathered in different groups, talking, laughing, and throwing jokes around.
The hall was annoyingly loud, and I… didn't have any friends.
So I headed to an empty corner and stood there alone, just to avoid getting involved with anyone.
But… that was just a foolish dream.
Their eyes kept sneaking glances at me from time to time, their whispers chasing me, as if my very existence sparked their curiosity.
I was getting sick of it… don't they have anything better to do?
Suddenly, the door swung open forcefully.
A tall man entered—huge, broad‑shouldered, built like he was carved from stone.
Muscles pressed against the fabric of his heavy black jacket, and his skin was slightly tanned, marked by sun and war.
What caught my attention the most was the deep scar running from above his left eyebrow down to the middle of his cheek—an old scar that told the story of a fierce battle.
His hair was short and black, and his eyes were gray, like a sky before a storm.
His gaze alone was enough to silence an entire room.
This was… George Dargon.
One of the strongest warriors of the Athenian Empire, and a man who fought in the last war against the demons.
He shouted in a booming voice, a voice carrying enough force to make the air itself tremble.
Some students grabbed their ears from the sheer volume, while I quickly covered mine—I knew he always did this.
In a heavy tone, he said:
"Looks like we've got some talent here."
The moment his eyes swept across the hall, half the students were on the verge of fainting.
He was someone unpredictable… a man who lived his whole life on the battlefield, not in classrooms.
Staff members hurried in, carrying the unconscious students to the infirmary.
George stood in the middle of the hall and said:
"Some of you might have come here to live a school life… to make friends… or fall in love."
He clenched his fist tightly before shouting:
"Wake up, you idiots!
Where do you think you are? We are at war!"
Some shoulders trembled involuntarily as he continued sharply:
"While you're playing around here, others are fighting life‑and‑death battles against the demons. Nowhere is safe… even the Empire could fall at any moment."
Silence filled the hall instantly, heavy like the air had turned to stone.
He pointed to his chest and said:
"This war… is yours, and the war of those who will come after you. So stop fooling around."
The hall that had been full of laughter moments ago turned into a place thick with tension.
Finally, George said:
"Since things have calmed down, I'll explain to you the meaning of the Combat Field."
He didn't give anyone a chance to digest his words.
He continued immediately:
"The Combat Field is a new class added this year, to train students to handle dangerous conditions in areas affected by dimensional rifts."
Then, in a deep voice, he asked:
"Do you know what a dimensional rift is?"
He looked around and saw that some—mainly nobles—knew, while the rest looked lost.
George said:
"Alright… since most of you don't know, I'll explain."
He stepped forward, his voice growing even more serious:
"A dimensional rift… isn't just a tear in the air.
It's a wound in the fabric of the world.
It starts with a strange trembling—light and air distort—and then a thin black line appears… slowly widening, releasing sparks of energy unlike anything in our world."
Then he added sharply:
"And every new rift that appears… is stronger than the last."
"I've told you all that you are allowed to know… so get ready. You will enter the Combat Field shortly."
I placed a hand on my forehead. I really… didn't want to go.
While I was lost in my thoughts, George spoke again:
"Once everyone is ready, you'll move out in groups of five."
Noise filled the hall once again.
"That's why we're doing this in teams."
"It'll be random, so the balance won't be perfect.
But that shouldn't matter, since this won't affect your ranking… this is all about adapting to the environment."
He began explaining the basic team structure: four to five members—two damage dealers, one ranged fighter, one tank, and one support.
Positions rotated between the first and second damage dealer for each team.
"It's up to you to decide your team leader. Whether it's the strongest, or someone fit to lead… that's your choice."
A short while later, the teams were announced.
…
I walked to the corner of the hall where the number of my assigned team was posted.
Four people were already standing there.
When they noticed me approaching, they froze for a moment before returning to normal… then they greeted me.
"Alfonso De Johnson, rank 834. Pleased to meet you."
The first one to greet me was a short brown-haired boy, lively and energetic.
Then stepped forward a beautiful girl with long red hair that shone like silk under the light, bright green eyes, and a confident gaze that suggested she feared nothing.
The training uniform fit her perfectly, as if she had picked it specially for ease of movement. She spoke clearly:
"Audrey Tolve, rank 555."
Next came James Vanho, a quiet young man with sharp features and pale gray eyes.
He looked confident but didn't speak much.
"James Vanho, rank 732."
Then I turned my gaze to the last person… and I was genuinely shocked.
"Zion Steel, rank 1."
At that moment, I truly started to believe… I might be cursed.