Ashok didn't need to think long—he already knew the best way to divert attention, a thod that wouldn't even require any real effort.
There was no need for denial, no need to fight against Lilia's manufactured accusations.
Instead—he leaned into them.
Lilia pressed forward, weaving her words into another carefully crafted attempt to push him further into a corner.
"It seems Adlet lacks the words to admit—"
But before she could complete her sentence, Ashok cut through her performance with effortless dismissal.
"Keep stating the obvious, and it won't change anything."
The words landed with precision, unraveling Lilia's approach before she could build montum.
The entire class stiffened, sharp gazes locking onto Ashok, waiting for what he would say next.
Lilia felt her own strategy falter, watching him openly acknowledge her implications.
But there was sothing off, sothing strange.
'What is he trying to pull?'
Her mind raced, unable to understand why soone would speak against themselves so directly.
And then, she tested him further.
Her voice, lined with mock disbelief, carried through the charged silence.
"Do you an it's 'obvious' that you're receiving privileges from the Academy?
That you are 'special' among us?"
The entire class held the sa question within their minds.
Adlet's next words would decide everything—his standing, his isolation, his future among them.
And yet—Ashok remained composed.
Lilia had been certain of her victory, convinced that no matter how Adlet responded, he would inevitably fall into the trap she had laid.
She had crafted the mont perfectly, manipulated the perception of the class, and ensured that his denial would an nothing—because no one would believe him.
He would be isolated, suppressed, forced into a position where she could wrap a leash around his neck, bending him to her will.
At least—that was how she had envisioned it.
But then—
Her certainty cracked.
Because instead of struggling, instead of grasping for words in desperation, Adlet simply—smirked.
A slow, mocking curve of his lips, an expression that sent a ripple through her calculated confidence.
And then—he spoke.
"Privileges, Special, Favored—do you think these are uncommon in the Academy?"
His voice did not rise, did not carry anger or defensiveness—it simply challenged, reshaping the conversation in a single statent.
"Every single student in this class is already privileged, special, and favored—when compared to the Wyrd Class.
Yet none of you ever question it."
The weight of his words hung in the air, unsettling the balance of hostility that had been aid at him re monts ago.
So of the glares flickered, hesitated—because the truth, however inconvenient, was undeniable.
Lilia felt the shift, recognized the change, and imdiately moved to reclaim control.
"We are not talking about the Wyrd—"
But Adlet did not grant her the space to finish.
A palpable shift washed over the classroom as Ashok spoke, his voice cool yet commanding, carrying the weight of an undeniable truth.
"On the outside, every single one of you considers yourself superior to the Wyrd Class. Yet on the inside—you were afraid.
The mont you saw rising beyond your supposed superiority, your confidence fractured."**
His red gaze swept across the room, piercing through the collective resentnt, dissecting it for what it truly was.
His words did not plead for understanding, nor did they seek validation.
They were simply spoken as fact.
And the class?
They listened.
His smirk deepened, sharp with amusent as he continued, unchallenged.
"Gold Pass. Silver Pass. rit Points.
Every one of you witnessed firsthand when I received them—yet still, you refuse to accept it. Instead, you twist the truth, dress it up as 'Special' or 'Privileged.'"**
The lingering hostility within the classroom wavered, shifting into sothing more uncertain.
And then—he delivered his proclamation.
"If that is how you see it, then let it be known—
I am Special."
The words rang out, resounding through the air like a declaration.
And none dared to imdiately refute it.
Then—his gaze shifted.
Locking onto Lilia, his voice carried a distinct edge—one ant to cut straight through her illusions.
"You want to be special, don't you? You want to be favored as I am?
But the truth?
You never will be."**
Lilia's fingers tensed slightly, though she masked it well.
"You—who do not even possess the balls to speak back to a teacher, to look them in the eye, think you deserve to be special?"
A pause.
A smirk.
And then—the final strike.
"Oh, I forgot.
You don't have the balls."
A sharp laugh escaped Ashok's lips, not of amusent but of mocking disdain, his words slicing through the charged air with effortless control.
"You are nothing more than a leech—feeding off others, lacking even the slightest ability to stand on your own.
And still—you pride yourself on gathering more leeches?"**
His voice paused, deliberate, his gaze sweeping across the class, lingering for a brief, piercing mont on each student before returning to Lilia.
And then—his smirk deepened.
"And you believe that makes you special? How utterly pointless."
His stance remained unwavering, hands still tucked in his pockets, radiating an aura of unshaken dominance.
"The Academy was never a place of equality.
Teacher Mia just inford us—the Rank 1 student will receive special privileges, will stand above the rest.
Yet instead of aiming for that, you cling onto , rallying an army of parasites, thinking that will grant you strength?"**
Then—his movent broke the air.
With effortless ease, his hand withdrew from his pocket, his presence expanding as he lifted it—
And then—
CLAP!
CLAP!
CLAP!
The sound echoed, deliberate, a slow and calculated rhythm of mock applause, filling the room before his voice followed.
"Comndable! Keep doing that!
Soon, I will rise even higher—privileged beyond asure when I claim Rank 1—while you rule over an army of leeches. I'm sure soone like you will be quite satisfied as their queen."
Then—his eyes flickered once more, sharp, condescending, his words falling like a royal decree.
"Though at the end of the day—
Every single insect is ant to be crushed."
Ashok did not hesitate—his words had been spoken, his judgnt delivered.
With an air of undisputed authority, he turned, striding toward the door, his posture unwavering, his steps steady, decisive.
Yet as his fingers brushed the handle, he paused, tilting his head slightly—just enough to cast a final glance back at the class that had so desperately sought to challenge him.
And then—his voice rang out once more, cool.
"As for how I entered the Academy despite being late? Go ask the Dean.
The Dean holds the final say over who steps into these halls and who does not.
Though—I doubt leeches have the balls to question him."
A sharp, unapologetic laugh followed, filling the space with unrestrained amusent.
"Insects dare to seek privilege? Hahaha!"
His laughter did not fade imdiately—instead, it lingered, resounding through the classroom, intertwining with the sound of his departing footsteps.
And then—the door shut behind him.
The echoes of his voice clung to the silence, leaving only the weight of his presence burned into the air.
The silence was suffocating, an eerie contrast to the tension that had erupted re monts before.
Roan, still seated, felt the thought press against his mind, an undeniable realization forcing itself forward.
'Insane. Completely insane.'
His eyes flickered toward Lilia, still rooted where she stood.
Her hands had moved slightly—but they did not tremble.
They clenched. Tightly.
And she was not alone.
The students who had openly berated Adlet monts ago now exchanged sharp glances—yet no words escaped their lips.
But their faces told another story.
Anger. Unfiltered, simring rage.
And yet—he was gone.
Gone before any of them could challenge him again.
Gone—leaving only his words behind.
Roan exhaled sharply, his mind settling on an unavoidable truth.
'If he wasn't the enemy of the class before—he surely is now.'
The room felt heavier, thick with unspoken resentnt, yet none dared to break the silence.
Alina's fingers curled into fists, her nails pressing harshly against her palm.
Her eyes burned, not rely with anger but with sothing more bitter—humiliation.
She had been called an insect, dismissed so effortlessly—yet she hadn't been able to retaliate.
The words still echoed in her mind, repeating themselves, carving deeper into her pride.
And what fueled her rage even more—was the simple, undeniable fact that she had no answer to him.
It was not only Alina's pride that had been struck.
Across the room, Isolde, Elara, Elira, Althea, and Gideon each sat in their own silence—resentnt woven into their expressions.
Because even though they had never directly engaged in the battle of words, even though they had remained on the sidelines, they had still lost.
They had been drawn into the confrontation—not by choice but by Lilia's maneuvering, her attempt to unite the class against Adlet through sympathy.
And yet—Adlet had flipped it entirely.
With nothing but words, presence, and calculated confidence, he had proven his superiority, standing above them all.
And then—he had simply left.
No rebuttal.
No challenge.
Just his lingering dominance.
Leon's gaze flickered toward Althea, noting the silence she held—but within that stillness, he recognized sothing unmistakable.
Competitiveness.
It was not just her.
As his eyes swept over the rest of the class, he saw the sa fire burning within them, lingering beneath their frustration and anger. The flas of competitiveness showed no signs of dying.
Their expressions carried anger, yet within that anger—determination had taken root.
Leon knew the confrontation in the classroom had spiraled into sothing more than an exchange of words.
He understood that what had unfolded was wrong, built on resentnt and manipulation—yet he could not deny the challenge it had sparked within him.
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