The students stood still — not out of discipline, but out of doubt.
Luna’s words hadn’t landed the way she hoped. So were frowning. Others were whispering to each other, clearly unconvinced. A few rolled their eyes.
They had powerful Classes. Their Skills sounded impressive. That should be enough — right?
To them, the idea of "needing training" when they were already granted elite powers didn’t quite make sense.
Seeing their expressions, Luna let out a playful sigh.
"Okay, clearly so of you still don’t get it," she said, placing her hands on her hips. "Let break it down."
She raised one finger.
"First off — all of you are Level 1."
That caught a few by surprise. Several students instinctively opened their status windows to check — and sure enough, they were all sitting at Level 1.
"Yeah, I know. Shocking," Luna said with a smirk. "That big ol’ fireball skill you’ve got? At Level 1, it’s barely stronger than a torch. You wanna heal soone? At Level 1, you’re patching up paper cuts. But once you hit Level 100?"
She gave a dramatic wave of her hand, mimicking an explosion.
"That sa fire spell could level a forest. And healing? You could bring soone back from the edge of death — maybe even actual death depending on the skill tier."
She let that sink in for a mont before continuing.
"In this world, levels matter. The stronger your stats, the stronger your output. Your Skills scale with them. Your Class benefits from them."
She stepped forward, pacing slowly in front of the group.
"Even if you’ve got an S or SS-Class... right now, any trained imperial knight with a few years of experience could wipe the floor with you. They’ve built up their strength step by step. You got yours dropped in your lap — no context, no refinent."
The murmurs began to die down. So students looked thoughtful now. Others stared at the ground.
Daniel nodded to himself. This was the answer they needed.
Luna smiled faintly.
"You do have incredible potential. Honestly, it’s kind of unfair. But potential isn’t power — not yet. That’s why training matters."
Her tone turned just slightly more serious.
"Power without control is just chaos. And chaos gets people killed."
Still, a few skeptical expressions lingered.
Luna’s smile turned mischievous.
"I can still see a few unconvinced faces..." she said sweetly. "Maybe it’s ti for a little demonstration."
She turned to the side, her gleaming red eyes scanning the crowd like a cat watching prey.
Her gaze paused — and a grin tugged at her lips.
"Hmm... you’ll do nicely," she said, pointing straight at one of the louder skeptics.
The chosen student froze, eyes wide.
"Co on up," Luna beckoned. "Ti to put that fancy class of yours to the test."
He blinked in surprise, then pointed to himself. "?"
"Yes, you," Luna nodded. "Na?"
"Ralph," the guy said confidently, striding forward as if he’d just been called to accept a dal. "Class: A-Rank Swordsman. Skills: Sword Rush, Iron Fang Slash, Parry Guard, and a few more."
He smirked, tossing his short brown hair back as if caras were on him.
The other students whispered behind their hands. He had been bragging ever since the ceremony, flexing his sword-based Skills like he was the second coming of so legendary warrior.
A wooden sword was tossed his way by one of the instructors.
Ralph caught it and, for a second, everything seed to click.
’Woah... I know how to use this,’ he thought, a thrill buzzing in his chest.
He gripped the hilt instinctively — his stance adjusting, feet shifting, balance steady. It felt natural. The knowledge of how to swing, block, and strike flowed through him like muscle mory he never earned.
He felt powerful.
Confident.
Ready.
Across the field, a knight stepped up. He was clad in simple training armor — nothing fancy. His Class? Knight. His Skills? Barebones — mostly B and C-tier, and all standard.
But the mont he took his stance... sothing shifted.
Ralph couldn’t explain it, but the air felt heavier.
"Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you," the knight said flatly, raising his own wooden sword.
Ralph grinned. "You can try."
Luna raised her hand.
"Begin!"
Ralph charged in, activating Sword Rush.
A burst of speed pushed him forward, his sword raised high — he was fast, his movents sharp. He ca down with a vertical strike aid cleanly at the knight’s shoulder—
Whack!
Next thing he knew, his legs were gone. Well, not gone, but swept. Hard.
He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Ow—what the hell?!"
Before he could even sit up—
Smack!
A wooden sword tapped — no, thudded — against his ribs. The knight hadn’t even used a Skill.
Ralph scrambled to his feet, flustered now.
Okay. That was a lucky hit.
He activated Iron Fang Slash, his blade glowing faintly as he rushed again.
This ti, he swung in a diagonal arc, then followed up with a horizontal slash.
But none of it landed.
Each move was parried, dodged, or simply... sidestepped.
The knight barely moved. His footwork was precise, his posture effortless. There was no wasted energy — just calm, brutal control.
Ralph’s sword hit nothing but air.
Then—
Crack!
A wooden sword slamd into his stomach. Not enough to break anything... but enough to fold him in half.
He gasped. The wind was knocked out of him. He collapsed to his knees, coughing.
’I know how to move... I know what to do... So why...’
He could feel the forms in his mind. He knew the techniques. He could activate the Skills.
But his swings lacked force. His body couldn’t keep up with what his instincts told him to do. No strength behind the strikes, no balance, no endurance. He had the data — but none of the foundation.
’Is this what she ant...?’
Another smack hit his shoulder, spinning him sideways. His body slumped on the grass, twitching.
"Match over," the knight announced calmly, lowering his weapon.
The students watching from the side were a mix of silent, awkward, and trying-not-to-laugh.
"Damn..." soone muttered.
"Didn’t even last a minute."
"I thought he had A-Class?"
"I think he still does. Just... Level 1."
So looked at Ralph with pity. Others just looked away.
He groaned from the ground, holding his side.
"Okay... okay... lesson learned," he wheezed.
Luna walked over, crouched beside him, and offered a cheeky grin.
"Told you. Power without training is just flair. Welco to the bottom, sweetie."
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