The words weren’t shouted.
They weren’t dramatic.
They were simple. Honest.
And the effect was imdiate.
BOOM.
The entire classroom exploded.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
"IT IS HIM!!!"
"THE SWORD IMMORTAL!!!"
"I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU ALL! I CALLED IT!"
"WE’RE IN THE SA CLASS AS HIM!!!"
"OH MY GODDDD I’M GONNA DIE!!!"
"TAKE MY MONEY! TAKE MY FAMILY! JUST SAY HI TO !!!"
"I’LL NEVER SKIP CLASS AGAIN! NEVER!!!"
"THIS CLASS IS BLESSED! BLESSED!!!"
"I’M GOING TO NA MY FUTURE SON, ELIUS THE SWORD IMMORTAL!"
"AND MY DAUGHTER SWORDY!"
Even the teacher’s desk began to shake slightly from the sheer force of energy and noise bouncing across the walls.
People were hugging.
Crying.
A girl dropped to her knees, clasped her hands, and began praying aloud.
"Thank you, god of sword, thank you for letting breathe the sa air as you..."
Elius took another breath, calming his Qi from accidentally radiating. He could feel a few minor spiritual contracts attempting to form without his consent—one of the downsides of being too admired by low-level Espers with open perception.
He had to suppress them. Gently, but firmly.
Around him, the storm of emotion rose higher.
Captain Grit, who had been standing silently at the podium all this ti, finally lifted one hand.
Clap.
The sound was like a thunderous snap in the air.
Clap.
The chaos began to settle.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Students turned, slowly calming down, gasping, catching their breath.
"Alright, alright," Captain Grit said, stroking his thick grey beard. "Enough worshipping for now."
But then he smiled, slow and proud, eyes narrowing with approval.
"I knew that face looked familiar. Welco to the class, Sword Immortal."
Clap.
Then another.
Clap. Clap.
Then another set of hands joined.
And another.
Soon, it was as though every desk in the room had transford into a stage, and the students upon them into an audience at a hero’s coronation.
The claps rippled like rain falling on a still lake, light at first... then thundering.
CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP.
The sound grew—so loud, so earnest, that Elius found himself blinking, confused.
"W-What’s...?" he began.
More joined.
CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP.
They rose in waves, standing one by one, the desks creaking as the students stood with reverent postures.
Even those who had previously been skeptical or silent now clapped, srized by the tide of montum and the legend forming before their eyes.
CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP.
So clapped with both hands over their heads like sports fans. Others pounded their palms furiously, grinning, their eyes brimming with tears of excitent.
The noise reached such a point it felt as if the classroom itself trembled.
Elius’s golden hair glimred under the ceiling lights like a halo.
He slowly lifted his hand, blinking again, more awkward this ti, as if waking from a dream.
"Um..." he said carefully. "Why are you all clapping?"
He blinked at them. "What... is going on?"
The clapping didn’t stop imdiately. But like a tide eting land, it slowly eased back. Murmurs lingered. A girl still sobbed softly, smiling like she’d seen her wedding day. Another boy clapped one final ti, whispering "Legend."
Then ca the voice that cut through the last echoes—deep, gravelly, wise.
"It’s because of what you did, son."
Captain Grit had stepped forward now, hand still halfway to his belt, his presence steady and grounded like a mountain elder.
He scratched his greying beard with two fingers, nodding to himself before taking a deep breath.
"You may not know this, Sword Immortal... but what you did wasn’t just flashy. It wasn’t just about killing so F-rank villain and becoming a trending topic. What you did saved the whole damn reputation of the hero system."
Elius tilted his head slightly. "...What do you an?"
Grit nodded. "Let explain, and I want all of you to listen, especially you noisy little brats drooling at his boots."
He pointed to a chart on the side wall—a pyramid-shaped diagram with color-coded ranks.
"You see this here? This is the Hero-Villain Rank Equilibrium System. It’s been the backbone of the Hero Association since the start of regulated superpowered conflicts. The rule is simple: F-ranked villains are handled by F-ranked heroes. E-ranked villains are dealt with by E-ranked heroes. And so on."
Elius nodded slowly. He vaguely rembered this structure from the comic panels back in his world.
"It’s ant to maintain balance," Grit continued. "If we let stronger heroes handle the weak villains, then the lower-ranked heroes will never grow. Their purpose would disappear. Training would beco aningless. Resources would get monopolized. And worst of all—public trust in the ranking system would collapse."
Elius frowned. "So... they couldn’t just send soone stronger to handle Lava Scissor?"
"That’s the damn point," Grit said, voice suddenly loud with emphasis. "They couldn’t. Lava Scissor was a problem. A peak F-ranked villain, yes—but he had absurd regeneration. Immune to most elental damage. Even water attacks didn’t faze him. And worse, his molten blades could carve through half the tech gear used by standard teams."
He started pacing, his boots thudding against the floor with each step.
"There were etings. Debates. Ergency Hero Council sessions. Should we bump him to E-rank? But that would break the equilibrium. Should we assign a team of F-ranked to try again? But they’d just die. Should we use specialized Esper units? That’s resources diverted from protecting cities."
The students were all listening now, stunned, as if hearing the secret inner workings of the world.
"And then..." Grit pointed directly at Elius, "...you showed up."
The entire room inhaled.
"You weren’t on the Hero Registry. No official background. No sidekick license. And yet—you walked into that dungeon... and one-shotted him."
Elius scratched the back of his head. "...I really didn’t know who he was at the ti," he lied.
"Doesn’t matter," Grit said firmly. "You beat a threat that stumped strategists, hero analysts, system architects. You saved the equilibrium. And you made the system work."
He gestured toward the students.
"THAT’S why they’re clapping."
Elius’s expression slowly shifted into one of quiet understanding.
So that’s what it was.
This wasn’t just about popularity.
It was about relief.
He had unknowingly solved a headache that higher-ups didn’t want to admit was beyond their control.
He nodded slightly. "So... I guess I was just lucky."
"Lucky, huh?" a girl said from the front row, eyes wide. "But how did you hurt him? So many others couldn’t even scratch him!"
"Yeah!" said another. "Even the B-rank team that analyzed his resistance thought he was immune to kinetic slicing!"
"Was your sword special?! Did you enchant it?"
"Was it... so hidden elent fusion?!"
"Was it a rare Qi technique?!"
"Did you use so kind of invisible technique?! Or was it, like, a curse breaker sword?!"
"Tell us, please! How did you hurt him?!"
Elius raised his hands slowly, overwheld again. "I... really don’t know. I just used my sword technique, aid for his neck, and... that was it."
"You make it sound so easy!" soone cried.
"But it was probably one of those ancient techniques, right?"
"Or maybe your sword is alive?!"
"Or maybe..." a girl said with stars in her eyes, "...you’re just naturally that strong..."
He shrugged, a bit awkwardly. "I just got lucky, really."
Captain Grit chuckled deeply.
"Hah! That’s a good answer, son. Smart one, too. Never over-explain your gifts. But let say one thing—when Radiant Man said you might be the one to hurt him soday, we all laughed."
His voice lowered now, filled with a rare kind of seriousness.
"Because Radiant Man... isn’t soone you can hurt. We’ve tested him. We’ve scanned him. He’s not invincible by definition. But sothing about him... makes him immune. Like laws don’t apply to him."
He paused.
"But now... you’ve proven that there exists a blade sharp enough. If you could hurt soone like Lava Scissor, maybe... just maybe... you can really hurt Radiant Man soday like he claid you can."
Silence stretched like a solemn vow.
"Which ans the world finally has a balancing force."
Elius nodded, this ti slower. The weight of the room pressed differently on his shoulders.
He wasn’t just admired now.
He was a pillar in a structure ant to prevent collapse.
And part of him hated how right it felt.
Captain Grit clapped his hands again, snapping everyone out of the mont.
"Alright, alright, settle down. That’s enough worshipping our Sword Immortal for now. Let’s not make the lad uncomfortable."
The students returned to their seats, still glancing at Elius as if he might vanish into mist. But now, their expressions had changed—less starstruck, and more... grateful.
The class wasn’t just inspired.
They were reassured.
And Elius, quietly adjusting his robe, sat back down... with a lot to think about.
Reviews
All reviews (0)