Flakey exhaled, his gaze sweeping across the classroom before settling on the students who had voiced their concerns.
His expression remained composed, though there was a flicker of amusent in his eyes.
"The punishnt I've given is appropriate," he stated, his tone carrying the weight of authority.
"Being a Teaching Assistant is not an easy task."
His words were firm, but they did little to quell the skepticism lingering in the air.
Elira, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke up.
Her voice was asured, but there was a quiet defiance beneath it—a rare mont where the Elf openly challenged the teacher.
"Teacher, how is that a punishnt?" she reasoned, her sharp gaze fixed on Flakey.
"If he loses, he'll gain valuable experience by following you as an Assistant. He'll learn from you directly, and on top of that, you're even paying him in credits. No matter how I look at it, this is more of a reward than a punishnt."
A murmur rippled through the students.
Flakey humd, tapping his chin as if considering her words. "Well! If you see it that way…"
Then, with a slight smirk, he turned to Ashok.
"What do you think about the punishnt, Mr. Adlet?"
Ashok exhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering, his presence carrying the quiet authority of one who did not entertain trivialities.
"There exists no punishnt more severe than this," he declared, his tone carrying the effortless certainty of a ruler passing judgnt. "To squander my precious ti after class, reduced to nothing more than a shadow trailing behind a teacher—for a re handful of credits? I don't see harsher punishnt than this."
There was no mockery in his words, no exaggeration—only the cold truth spoken as fact.
In the ga, the title Teaching Assistant carried an illusion of prestige, a na that suggested honor and responsibility. But in reality?
It was nothing more than servitude disguised as duty.
A Teacher's Slave.
No ti for personal training, no freedom to sharpen one's own strength. The only respite granted was for eating and sleeping—everything else dictated by the whims of the teacher.
For Ashok—a Supernatural—such restrictions were unacceptable.
His power was not sothing to be squandered, not when the Ranking Tournant lood just three months away.
To waste an entire month following a teacher like a loyal hound? And then lose in the Ranking Tournant.
It was an insult.
A heavy silence settled over the classroom as the students turned their attention to Flakey, their gazes expectant.
Ashok's words had been sharp—perhaps even insulting—but he had spoken them with such unwavering certainty that no one dared to challenge him outright.
Flakey exhaled, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You don't have to put it like that, Student Adlet." His tone was asured, though there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
"Here I was, being lenient with you—even offering credits. Not to ntion, you could learn a great deal if you just—"
"It's fine."
Ashok's voice cut through Flakey's words like a blade, smooth yet absolute.
"I can learn far more from personal training." His posture remained composed, his expression unreadable.
"As for the credits—if I consider the average a first-year should receive, depending on the type of teacher, it should be sowhere around 3,000. Half of that would be 1,500 credits—and that's after an entire month."
He tilted his head slightly, his tone carrying a quiet finality.
"I fail to see any reward in that."
A vein popped on Flakey's forehead.
"Since you see it as such a punishnt, I will no longer be lenient." His voice was sharper now, his patience visibly thinning. "Two months. No credits."
A murmur rippled through the students.
Elira stepped forward slightly, her brows furrowed. "But Teacher—"
Flakey raised a hand, his expression firm.
"No more words."
Flakey leaned forward slightly, his expression carrying the confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable in this wager.
"Go on then, tell —what is my Supernatural Power?"
There was no hesitation in his voice, no flicker of doubt. He was certain—hundred percent sure—that there was no way Ashok could possibly guess correctly.
'I had considered going easy on him', Flakey mused, his thoughts laced with quiet amusent.
'But now? Now, I'll make sure he works to the very bone.'
Losing wasn't an option.
It wasn't even a possibility after all how could a student guess soone supernatural power when he have never seen or experienced it.
The students turned their full attention to Ashok, anticipation crackling in the air.
Most of them weren't hoping for him to win.
They were waiting for him to fall.
To watch him stumble, to see him lose—to finally witness him fall from the high horse he had seated himself upon.
The way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he acted as though he was above them—it pricked at their pride, especially those born into nobility.
And then, Ashok spoke.
His voice was calm, unwavering.
"It's sothing related to Dreams."
The words landed with quiet certainty.
Ashok already knew the exact na of Flakey's Soul Trait—he had known it long before this mont.
'Dreaming Trickster.'
That was the na of Flakey's power.
Flakey possesses a formidable ability that allows him to ensnare others within the realm of dreams, shaping their experiences with absolute control.
Once trapped, his victims are subjected to visions, sensations, and realities entirely dictated by his will.
He can conjure landscapes of breathtaking beauty or terrifying nightmares, manipulate the flow of ti, and even alter the very laws of nature within the dreamscape.
Unlike re illusions, everything within his dream world is tangible and real—limited only by the boundaries of the mind itself.
The true depth of his power, however, lies in the nature of creation within the dream.
Here, imagination is not just a tool but the very fabric of existence.
He does not simply influence perception; he crafts reality itself within the dream, shaping it with the precision of a god.
The most terrifying aspect of his ability manifests when a victim begins to lose their grip on sanity within the dream.
As their mind fractures, Flakey gains direct access to their subconscious, the deepest and most vulnerable part of their psyche.
Here, he can launch attacks that bypass all ntal defenses, striking directly at the soul itself.
However, despite its overwhelming potential, the ability is far from invincible.
Those with greater ntal fortitude than Flakey are immune to its effects, their minds too strong to be ensnared.
Even those with exceptional willpower can resist from within, shattering the dreamscape and freeing themselves through sheer determination.
Furthermore, the ability is a constant drain on his own ntal strength.
The longer he maintains control over the dream, the more his own mind weakens, leaving him vulnerable over ti.
Perhaps the greatest limitation of all is the vulnerability of his physical body. While he is imrsed in the dream world, his real body remains defenseless in the waking world.
Anyone outside the dream can strike him down with ease, making him an easy target for a third party.
'A power designed to prey upon the weak', thought Ashok.
'He could wipe out thousands in an instant, pulling them into his dreamscape—those whose ntal strength and willpower were too feeble to resist. A massacre without bloodshed, a genocide carried out in the depths of the mind itself.'
'Yet, for all its terrifying potential, the ability had a fatal flaw. Against a single opponent with unshakable ntal fortitude, he would struggle. He could hold out for a ti, but inevitably, he would lose.'
Ashok had seen enough in the ga to understand why Flakey was feared.
ntal resilience was not sothing easily cultivated, and few possessed the discipline to train their minds to the extre.
That was why Flakey stood among the strongest within the Academy—his power was devastating against the unprepared, an unstoppable force against the masses.
But strength alone did not guarantee victory.
'His ending is quite tragic', thought Ashok, his expression unreadable as he watched Flakey's reaction.
"Tell ," Flakey demanded, "How did you co to that conclusion?"
Ashok t his gaze steadily, his tone calm yet firm. "First, you used your ability on us during the ntal Concentration Test—when you asked us to close our eyes."
'He sensed that? Impossible!' Flakey's thoughts raced as he stared at Adlet, his expression betraying a rare flicker of unease.
He had used his power, yes—but only in the most subtle way possible.
If he had fully activated his ability, he could have instantly pulled every student into Dreaming, within the depths of their subconscious.
After all, dreams could only manifest once the mind had slipped into that vulnerable state.
But that wasn't what he had done.
Flakey had rely nudged their minds halfway into the subconscious, easing their transition into a concentrated state.
The human mind was a chaotic storm of distractions, and true self-awareness—true focus—took ti to achieve.
He had simply shortened that ti, guiding them gently without force.
His control had been absolute, the touch of his power was so delicate that no one should have been able to perceive it.
Especially not with their eyes closed.
And yet, Adlet had sensed it.
Around him, the other students were equally stunned.
'Teacher used his Supernatural Power? When?' That singular thought echoed through the minds of most students, their confusion evident in their wide-eyed stares.
Althea felt a sharp pang of disbelief.
'How did he sense it when I could not?'
She prided herself on her Mana Sensitivity—her innate talent which gained recognition even within the Magic Tower.
While she was not arrogant enough to claim superiority over the teachers, she still held her pride as a genius.
And yet, she had felt nothing.
Varnok, standing beside her, furrowed his brow. 'I don't rember feeling any different', he thought, his mind combing through the mory of the test.
"Even if you sohow sensed the use of my Supernatural Power, how did you co to the conclusion that it was dreams?" he asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
"It could have been anything related to the mind— like illusions. Why dreams?"
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