CHAPTER 50: WHO TRAINED THEM?

The crowd was already roaring before the names even locked on the holographic screen above the dome.

CLASS ZERO vs. NEXUS FOURTH UNIT

A stir went through the stands.

Class Zero? Against them?

It wasn’t a fair match. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

Nexus Fourth Unit—top-ranked seniors from one of the satellite academies. Trained killers with real-world field ops under their belt. Their squad leader, Tress Ralkin, had taken down a C-rank hydra-type beast on his own last semester. They were elite. Untouchable.

The Nexus team stood at the far end of the arena, already stretching and smirking like they were about to crush some first-year bugs.

Tress stepped forward with that ugly half-smile, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "Didn’t know they were letting children play in the big leagues today."

Lucian didn’t respond. He just slid his jacket off one shoulder and kept walking until he hit the middle line.

Beside him, Vyn was quiet like always, but the slight twitch in her eye said enough.

Evelyn cracked her knuckles. Silas adjusted the gloves on his fingers.

Tress kept running his mouth. "You sure y’all are in the right arena? The nursery’s that way."

Lucian didn’t look at him. "You finished?"

Tress was about to say something again—

—but Vyn flicked her fingers, and his mouth vanished.

Literally.

Just... gone.

The crowd gasped.

Tress stumbled back, slapping his face in panic. Muffled gagging noises came from his throat as he clawed at nothing.

One of his teammates rushed to him. "Yo! What the hell?! What did you—"

"Too much talking," Vyn said flatly. "He was boring."

Even Lucian gave a small nod at that.

The announcer didn’t stop it. The system didn’t flag it. The match had already begun.

And Class Zero?

They were already moving.

Silas was first.

His body lit up faintly, golden threads pulsing under his skin like sunlight weaving through veins. The clouds above parted slightly as if drawn to him, and with a low, thudding sound, he lifted off the ground—smooth, no strain.

He flew.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t even loud. It was just precise. Controlled.

Then he shot forward, breaking the sound around him.

The enemy tank moved to block him—big guy, plated armor skill, looked like he could eat bricks for breakfast.

Didn’t matter.

Silas hit him like a solar bullet. The guy’s armor cracked in a flash. He was launched across the dome like a ragdoll and slammed into the barrier hard enough to leave a dent.

Silas didn’t stop. He spun mid-air, landed with one hand on the ground, and launched himself toward the next.

Evelyn was already in play.

She stood still as two Nexus members rushed her—one with dual flame daggers, the other manipulating kinetic spheres like mini comets.

She didn’t copy.

Not this time.

Instead, she merged.

Wind and flame burst around her arms as she slammed her fists together, creating a cyclone of burning pressure that expanded in a blink, launching the first attacker back.

The second tossed a comet—fast, unpredictable, curving—

She stepped into it.

Then through it.

The air shimmered as she bent the force around her, absorbing the movement and flipping it into a pulse that slammed the attacker into the floor.

It wasn’t mimicry anymore.

It was something new.

Meanwhile, Reia stood still in the eye of the storm, eyes half-lidded.

One of the Nexus students had cloaked himself, turning invisible. The kind of stealth even sensors couldn’t track.

Didn’t help.

Reia’s eyes flicked left.

"Behind Silas."

Silas didn’t hesitate. He twisted mid-air and kicked downward.

The invisible enemy dropped to the ground with a sharp grunt, visible now—face contorted, wind knocked out of him.

Reia’s mind wasn’t just sharp—it was everywhere.

Her telepathy picked up intent. Thought. Emotion.

She was a strategist born mid-battle.

Two more Nexus fighters tried to flank Vyn.

Bad choice.

One summoned a crystal lance.

The other moved through shadows—probably a blink-type.

Vyn blinked too.

Literally disappeared.

Then reappeared between both of them.

The crystal lance shattered before it finished forming.

The shadow-stepper never got the chance to vanish again. Vyn’s hand moved like a whip, and his arm twisted unnaturally before a short, sharp scream cut through the air.

No blood.

Just brutal, exact pressure point magic.

She didn’t move loud.

She didn’t move fast.

She just moved perfectly.

At the center of the chaos, Lucian hadn’t lifted a finger.

Yet.

He watched as the last remaining Nexus student—a girl with magnetic field control—tried to pin Evelyn down with metal shards drawn from the dome structure.

The shards vibrated violently, hovering like a minefield.

Evelyn smirked and extended her palm.

A swirl of gravity and kinetic force compressed into her hand. The metal pulled inward instead of launching.

Then she slammed it into the floor, detonating the field outward in a controlled blast.

The metal storm collapsed on the Nexus girl like a thunderclap.

Done.

Silence.

No cheers.

No claps.

Just the sharp breath of the crowd trying to process what the hell they just witnessed.

Class Zero didn’t celebrate.

They didn’t gloat.

They just stood there.

Lucian looked at the screen. All names blinked red.

Victory.

Then he turned and walked off without a word.

The others followed.

Vyn passed the still-panicking Tress—his mouth had returned, but the man was sitting against the wall in silent horror.

Vyn bent down and whispered, "Talk again and I’ll take your voicebox next."

Tress didn’t respond.

He couldn’t.

The moment Class Zero left the dome, the whispers started.

People leaned over balconies, huddled in corners, eyes locked on the footage playing on repeat above.

"That was Class Zero...?"

"They didn’t even go all out."

"They’re just... first years, right?"

"Who trained them?"

Inside the observation room, Athena stood with her arms crossed, watching the entire fight with her usual unreadable face.

Behind her, a few instructors murmured nervously.

"They’re not supposed to be this good."

Athena just sipped her coffee.

"Maybe your class should’ve eaten their vegetables," she said quietly.

They didn’t respond.

Because now they knew—

Class Zero wasn’t just here to participate.

They were here to change the game.

And the game?

Was already bending.