CHAPTER 68: THE CLASS STARTS

"Ahhhhhh!"

Agonizing screams echoed through the steel halls of Zane’s island. The source wasn’t hidden; it was everywhere—seeping from the reinforced walls, bouncing through the laboratory’s metallic corridors, and clinging to the air like the stench of something rotten.

Inside the experiment hall, Zane sat cross-legged on a cushioned sofa, a laptop floating on a holographic platform in front of him. His glasses reflected rows of unreadable codes and diagrams scrolling across the translucent screen. One hand typed lazily, while the other held a fizzy drink, the straw slurping obnoxiously loud against the symphony of pain around him.

Just across from him, a massive shelf stretched like a twisted display case. At the center sat a glass tumbler, tall and cylindrical, resting on a glowing burner. Within it boiled a transparent, flesh-colored liquid that squirmed and bubbled as though it had a mind of its own.

If one listened carefully—past the burbling liquid and the low hum of machinery—there were muffled cries coming from inside. The liquid wasn’t just liquid. It was once a man. Now reduced to a slurry of flesh, bone, and nerves, he was still alive—eyes drifting in the mix, wide and bloodshot, brimming with terror and agony. Every cycle of boiling and sudden cooldown forced him to endure pain so excruciating it was beyond human description. The eyes inside turned helplessly toward Zane, pleading for mercy.

Zane didn’t even glance at him.

To his right stood another chamber—this one spherical, transparent, humming faintly with an unnatural energy. Inside, a blurred streak of blue light darted endlessly, crashing against invisible walls but never finding escape. It was Ben, the guy who once thought gaining super speed was his salvation. Now it was his curse.

Below the sphere, engraved into a steel plate, were the chilling words:

The Tantalus Treadmill

A machine built not to stop motion but to make it eternal. A speedster’s prison, forcing their powers into ceaseless, meaningless torment. No rest, no purpose—only endless running.

For the past week, Zane had indulged himself in cruel experiments like these. Each subject broken, reshaped, their humanity stripped away until only their suffering remained.

The screams quieted for a moment. Only the bubbling of flesh and the rhythmic hum of the treadmill filled the silence.

"Hmm..." Zane finally exhaled, shutting his laptop with a snap. He drained the last of his fizzy drink and stood, stretching casually as though finishing a late-night study session rather than presiding over horrors.

"I’m getting late for class," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Let’s go."

At his words, the lab shifted. His white scientist’s coat shimmered away, melting into his usual attire: a long grey coat, black pants, and a plain white t-shirt. The glasses vanished with a blink of light. His entire presence sharpened—less of a researcher now, more of the enigmatic teacher the academy thought he was.

He gave one last look at his "collection." A simple flick of his eyes was enough to summon a bot from the shadows. The metallic being bowed in perfect obedience.

"Observe the subjects," Zane ordered.

"Yes, Mr. Zane."

With a snap of his fingers, the warped flow of time on the island shifted. The strange accelerated bubble he had enforced synced back into the sluggish eternity of his world. His experiments would suffer slower now, dragging their torment into an eternity far longer than they could comprehend.

Satisfied, Zane vanished.

In an instant, he manifested inside his room at the teachers’ residence in Orimund. He rolled his neck once, muttering:

"Oh right. I forgot to check the weapons and beasts’ growth..." He paused, then smirked. "Well, whatever. Next time."

Hands in pockets, Zane pushed open the door to his quarters, stepping into the sunlit halls of the academy.

"Time to be a teacher," he said lightly, strolling toward Lucen’s office as though nothing had happened.

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Zane entered Lucen’s office to find the familiar sight—Lucen buried in paperwork, while Seris quietly assisted him. At the sight of Zane, Lucen looked up with a faint smile.

"Hello, Zane. You’re ready, I presume?"

Zane, as always, answered with his usual calm smile.

"How was the interview?" he asked casually.

Lucen leaned back slightly before gesturing toward Seris.

Seris adjusted her glasses and replied smoothly, "It went as expected. Most candidates behaved well, knowing that even at the interview stage rejection was possible—though the chances were slim. Only about ten were dismissed for poor conduct."

Zane gave a small nod. "I see... so, which class is mine?"

With her professional composure, Seris straightened the papers in her hand. "There are four classes, each consisting of twenty-five students."

She listed them one by one:

Class Solis – Representing light, clarity, and inspiration.

Class Lunaris – Representing mystery, reflection, and intuition.

Class Arboris – Representing growth, stability, and nature.

Class Caelis – Representing the sky, boundlessness, and freedom.

Seris looked up. "Mr. Zane, you will be the class teacher of Class Caelis."

Zane’s lips curved into a knowing smile. "Class Caelis, huh..." He gave a soft nod.

Lucen set his pen down, his expression turning more serious. "There’s something else. In four to five days, your assistant teacher will arrive to aid you."

Before Zane could speak, Seris interjected, adjusting her glasses again. "One more thing, Mr. Zane. Each class has five specially invited students. Many of them come from noble families... and nobles tend to be, well... a little arrogant."

At that, Zane let out a low, sinister smirk, his eyes glinting. "Don’t worry, Ms. Seris. I’ll make sure they’re... thoroughly educated."

With that, he turned and left the office, his smile never fading.

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Zane strolled through the corridor, hands loosely resting in his pockets, his coat flowing behind him with each step. The chatter of students preparing for their first proper day as academy disciples buzzed around him, but he paid it no mind. His attention was fixed ahead—toward the door marked with the emblem of Class Caelis.

The door itself was finely crafted, polished wood with faint engravings along its frame. Above it, a single star symbol gleamed faintly, as though etched with magic to shimmer when touched by light.

Zane stopped, tilting his head slightly as his lips curved into a small smile.

"A star, huh?" he murmured. "For my class... quite accurate."

With that, he pushed the door open without hesitation, stepping inside as though he had always belonged there. His eyes lazily swept across the room, observing the curious gazes that immediately turned toward him. Some students straightened nervously, while others—those with noble airs—merely raised their brows, their arrogance unmasked even in silence.

Zane’s smile never faded. He walked casually to the front of the class, every movement unhurried, controlled, as though the room itself bent to his presence.

Zane stepped inside the classroom, moving casually yet drawing every gaze the moment he crossed the threshold. His seat was positioned right at the front, a place clearly reserved for him. The room itself was spacious, enchanted artifacts embedded into the walls and ceiling gently circulating cool air to keep the atmosphere comfortable even in the summer heat.

He let his eyes wander, analyzing his class in silence.

A few familiar faces immediately caught his attention. Ron Volkov and Lia Isolde sat together, their expressions lighting up with barely concealed joy. Both knew what kind of teacher they had gained—someone far stronger than they could have ever hoped for. Their relief and happiness were almost palpable.

Not far from them, Jax Harl leaned back in his chair, his usual carefree attitude evident, though Zane noticed the sharp glint in his eyes.

But other expected presences were missing—Arin Blake, Lirael, Torren, and Aurelian were nowhere to be seen. Zane noted their absence without much reaction, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

It was then his eyes fell upon a cluster of five figures. Nobles—distinct in their refined postures, immaculate robes, and faint auras of superiority. The five invited students, special admits by the academy itself. Their presence brought a different kind of balance to the class dynamic.

Zane allowed a faint smile to curl his lips.

"A well-balanced class," he muttered under his breath, his deep voice carrying just enough to draw a few curious looks.

Zane’s gaze lingered on the five nobles, sharp eyes measuring them without effort. Hmm... there were nobles in the exam too, he thought, but these five... they’re different. Selected ones. Invited. Their strength isn’t far from Ron and Lia—so the academy really does want this class to be balanced. Interesting.I like this .

He placed his hand on the teacher’s desk, the sound of his palm hitting the polished surface echoing lightly through the room. His smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as every student’s attention immediately snapped toward him.

"Alright, students," Zane said, his voice casual yet carrying an undeniable authority, "let me introduce myself. I am Zane Creed... and from now on—" his deep purple eyes swept across the entire class, locking each student in place, "I’ll be your Class Teacher."