Given the sheer number of Cadets in the first-year batch, cramming us all into a single class would have been a logistical nightmare.
So, to keep the chaos manageable, the Academy staggered class schedules, allowing us to choose the ti slots for our Mandatory and Optional courses.
It also helped us to set aside ti for our Elective courses, which, if we didn't ss around, could give us so extra credit.
But that didn't an we were not going to have any joint classes at all. We had so, and we were all heading toward one of them right now.
Hunter Dynamics — my first mandatory class — had just finished after an hour of dense lectures and boring lessons.
My mind was already fried.
Now it was ti for Physical Conditioning. My second mandatory class of the day.
I was starting to regret my decision to choose those two courses next to each other first thing in the morning for my schedule.
The first class had already drained ntally, and now I was expected to physically burn off what little energy I had left.
By the ti the third class would roll around, I'd probably be too exhausted to even stand!
Maybe I should've picked an easier course for my first slot of the day.
What was I thinking?
…Oh, right. I wasn't thinking.
I had asked Juliana to make my schedule.
She was the one who actually put those classes together!
But why? Why would she do that? I an, I knew she reveled in my misery, rightfully so.
But she was going to be with for all the mandatory and optional classes, so creating such a packed schedule would be just as taxing on her as it was on !
I turned to give her a furtive glance.
She was wordlessly walking beside , and while her expression might've co off as detached and indifferent to others, I caught the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
That wrench.
She didn't mind suffering alongside , as long as it ant I'd suffer too.
…Honestly, I kind of admired that.
•••
Michael stood in the courtyard, casually stretching his limbs alongside the rest of the first-year Cadets.
The morning sun was casting long shadows across the training grounds, and the hum of chatter had filled up the crisp air.
Thanks to Lily's help, Michael had chosen his schedule wisely.
He had started his day with an easy elective class.
It gave him a chance to ease into the day, knowing full well that his second class — Physical Conditioning — was going to be very straining.
Not everyone had given so much thought into putting together their schedule, though.
So Cadets, either out of overconfidence or sheer dumbness, had bunched all their mandatory classes together.
It was an illogically stupid mistake, really.
Michael glanced up at a group nearby and saw a few Cadets, their faces already etched with regret.
One of them, a lanky boy with a nervous tic, was furiously trying to stretch out his hamstrings while muttering sothing about barely surviving his first class — Combat Fundantals.
"Should've thought that one through," Michael muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a wry smile.
Then he swept his eyes across the courtyard and saw Samael standing with Juliana in the distance, the two of them drawing their fair share of glances from nearby Cadets.
Samael looked unbothered as ever, his expression a mix of nonchalance and disdain, while Juliana was gazing at the crowd like she was silently assessing who might collapse first.
Michael's mood soured instantly upon seeing that insufferable golden-haired bastard.
But before he could curse him, a sharp whistle blew, its piercing shrill cutting through the murmur of voices.
The instructor strode into the courtyard, a tall man with a commanding figure and an air of brutality surrounding him.
"Listen up!" the instructor barked, silencing the crowd instantly. "I'm your Physical Conditioning instructor. My na is Kain Reichardt, and I don't care about yours. All I care about is my job – which is to make sure you maggots are in peak human condition."
The instructor's eyes scanned the crowd, stopping briefly on each of the top ten Cadets, including Michael himself. "Let's see what you're made of. Everyone, hundred laps around the field. Now! And if I see anyone using their powers, I swear to Monarchs I'll break your legs!"
Michael groaned inwardly but pushed himself forward.
Around him, Cadets were already breaking into uneven sprints, their morning energy levels varying widely.
So had already run off at full speed to impress the instructor, while only a few, like him, were content with a slow jog.
"Idiots," Michael muttered under his breath. "They should be conserving their energy."
And he was right.
Every cadet here was Awakened — even if they were only [C-rankers]. Their strength, stamina, and endurance surpassed that of regular humans by leaps and bounds.
Yet most of them had grown so accustod to their superhuman condition that they tended to forget this simple fact.
It had beco their new normal, blinding them to the reality of their own limits.
But Michael hadn't forgotten.
How could he? He had only Awakened a few weeks ago when he stumbled upon that cursed sword.
Before that, even running a mile without collapsing was impossible for him.
But now? Now he could fight for twelve hours straight and still have enough energy to keep going.
Of course, even among the Awakened, Michael was an exception.
His stamina and endurance were leagues ahead of everyone else. But still!
A hundred laps around the field shouldn't be a challenge for anyone here. This could only an one thing — Instructor Reichardt had sothing far worse planned for them.
And this? This was just the warm-up.
So, Michael conserved his energy and kept a steady jog even as others around him picked up their pace, eager to finish their laps faster.
But then, eventually, he found himself shoulder to shoulder with soone who managed to infuriate him without even trying.
Samael Theosbane.
Michael's jaw tightened.
As if it wasn't bad enough just seeing Samael out of the corner of his eye, what really sent his blood pressure skyrocketing was the sheer indifference radiating off the guy.
Samael wasn't even looking at him. Not a glance. Not an acknowledgnt. Nothing.
It was as if Michael didn't even exist!
So infuriating!
Michael gritted his teeth and kept jogging, thinking Samael would pass him sooner or later.
…But he didn't.
Fifteen minutes and thirty laps later, Samael was still there, running right beside him, matching his pace like he was doing it intentionally.
'What is his problem?!' Michael scread internally. He shook his head, trying to focus on his breathing. 'No, don't react. Just keep your head straight. Ignore him, and he'll go away. I can do this.'
So he did.
…And yet, another fifteen minutes passed, and Samael still didn't go away.
Finally, Michael's patience snapped.
"Oh my god! What's your problem?!" he blurted out, turning to face the golden-haired bane of his existence.
Samael frowned, his expression one of pure innocence. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I an!" Michael barked. "Why are you running next to ?!"
"I'm preserving my energy?" Samael said simply, tilting his head as though genuinely confused by the accusation.
Michael clicked his tongue, holding back a string of curses. "Don't play dumb, Samael! I talked to Alexia this morning. I know you exchanged a Card with her — the Card I wanted."
Samael shrugged, the gesture as casual as it was dismissive. "So?"
"So?! You only did that to piss off!" Michael's voice rose despite himself. "You went out of your way to make a deal with Alexia for a Card you had no interest in. Then you sent your lackey, Jake, to provoke into fighting him. You wanted to create a scene, to damage my reputation before the Cadet Council! Admit it — you did all of that just to get at !"
Samael stopped mid-step, placing his hands on his hips. He turned to Michael with a look that was half amusent, half exasperation.
"Michael," Samael began in a tone dripping with mock sincerity, "I'm starting to believe you think the universe revolves around you, but trust — I have better things to do than plot your downfall. If you're mad about the Card, maybe bla yourself for not acting sooner."
Michael's face turned red with fury, but before he could respond, Samael raised a hand to silence him.
"Oh, and as for Jake?" Samael's lips curled into a sly grin. "That was just a bonus. I don't control his actions… but I admit, watching you acting scared in front of the Council President was delightful."
Michael seethed, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "You—!"
"Save it for the laps, Michael," Samael interrupted, already jogging ahead. "You've got ninety-nine problems, and I'm not even one of them. Yet."
Michael glared after him, his frustration reaching a boiling point. But before he could retort, Samael spoke again in an annoyingly calm tone.
"Oh, but if you want that Card so much, I'm willing to make a deal with you," he said with exaggerated generosity.
"Wha–" Michael stamred, but the words died in his throat as Samael effortlessly picked up speed and left him behind.
"Talk to after class if you're interested," he called over his shoulder.
And just like that, he was gone.
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