(Leo’s POV, Student Dorm Room 22C)

    Leo felt a sharp, excruciating pain pulsing through his palm the moment Su Yang left, but he refused to acknowledge it until he was safely behind the closed door of his dorm.

    Click.

    The second the door locked behind him, he let out a sharp breath, shaking his hand violently to restore blood flow.

    "Motherfucker—" he hissed under his breath, flexing his fingers as pins and needles of pain shot through them.

    "Fucker did this on purpose!" Leo cursed, as his palm throbbed with a dull, aching burn, bruises already forming where Su Yang’s monstrous grip had crushed his capillaries.

    Clenching his jaw, he bit into the side of his palm and blew hot air over the skin to dull the lingering pain.

    ’What the fuck was all that about?’

    Su Yang had come to his dorm out of nowhere, dragging an entire entourage of students behind him like some self-proclaimed emperor making an unannounced visit to a rival kingdom.

    And for what?

    A ridiculous intimidation stunt? A childish attempt at establishing dominance?

    Leo exhaled sharply, his annoyance only deepening.

    ’Bastard exposed my face to a crowd. Soon, I won’t be able to walk the halls without drawing attention.’

    That thought alone pissed him off.

    But beyond his irritation, Leo had to acknowledge an undeniable truth—Su Yang was strong. Too strong.

    He had already known Su Yang was a Monarch-level talent, thanks to the assistant’s briefing in the Genetic Testing Chamber, but until now, that was just information.

    Feeling the difference firsthand was something else entirely and Leo was shocked at just how massive the gap in their raw physical strength really was.

    It wasn’t like he had not fought stronger opponents before. He did face a few in the entrance tests, however, those fights? Those were manageable.

    This?

    This was on another level entirely.

    The sheer difference in physical power between them was absurd.

    And the worst part?

    Su Yang knew it.

    The way he had applied pressure wasn’t reckless—it was controlled. Calculated.

    A deliberate show of power.

    ’That bastard.’

    Leo exhaled, shaking his hand one last time now that some feeling had returned to his fingers.

    "What the hell does he mean by ’See you around’?" he muttered, scowling. "I’m not fraternizing with the likes of him. Not a chance in hell."

    Today’s encounter had told him everything he needed to know about Su Yang.

    He was flamboyant, arrogant, egotistical.

    But beneath all that bravado—

    He was calculated. Dangerous.

    Su Yang understood people. He knew how to provoke them, how to control a crowd, how to instill dominance with nothing more than a few words and a well-timed smirk.

    He wasn’t just strong.

    He was aware.

    Aware of how people perceived him. Aware of how to weaponize that perception to his advantage.

    He was disciplined. He was strategic.

    He was a nightmare in human form.

    ’That’s what makes him dangerous.’

    Su Yang’s arrogance wasn’t empty.

    His confidence wasn’t baseless.

    And if things continued the way they were, there was no doubt in Leo’s mind that Su Yang was the easy favorite to dominate this year’s rankings.

    Leo sighed, rolling his shoulders.

    "Yeah, yeah. I don’t care if you’re number one or number one hundred. Just stay out of my way, you crazy bastard."

    He flexed his bruised fingers, his expression hardening.

    "Because next time you try something like that... I’m coming for your neck."

    He might have played it stoic today, but he wouldn’t let Su Yang treat him like an easy target.

    As he skimmed through the timetables of other branches, he noted the differences.

    The Swordsmanship Branch, for example, had "Basics of Swordsmanship & Sword Intent" instead of Stealth.

    They also had "Leadership & Battlefield Tactics" as a secondary subject, instead of Scouting, Movement, & Planning.

    Meanwhile, Practical Combat remained a common course, no matter the profession.

    It all made sense.

    Rodova was shaping them into specialists.

    ---

    [Professor Notes – Year 1 Elite Class]

    As Leo’s eyes drifted lower, he noticed handwritten notes beneath each course description.

    [Basics of Perception – Professor Powell]

     "You think you know how to see? Hahaha, we’ll see if you can see in my class. Open your eyes, or you’ll walk into a blade before you ever see it coming."

    Class held daily except Thursdays and Sundays. Practical Training Ground D-4.

    Leo’s brow twitched slightly.

    Who the hell wrote that?

    This Powell guy sounded completely unhinged and like an individual who liked to make Dad Jokes.

    [Physical Fitness & Training – Professor Marvin]

     "I don’t care how strong you think you are. If you can’t outrun, outlast, and overpower the enemy, you’re already dead. In my class, you either adapt or collapse. Simple."

    Class held daily at dawn. Training Hall C-2.

    Leo let out a slow breath.

    Professor Marvin sounded like a hard-ass.

    He was no stranger to physical training, but something about Marvin’s tone told him that this class would be hell.

    [General Magic Theory – Professor David]

     "Magic is a tool. A weapon. A science. If you think it’s some mystical nonsense or a shortcut to power, you’re already a fool. I will make sure only those worthy of wielding it pass my class."

    Class held daily except Saturdays and Sundays. Lecture Hall B-1.

    Leo’s lips curled slightly.

    An indoor subject? And something that actually sounded interesting?

    He almost couldn’t believe his luck!

    Then came the profession-specific courses.

    [Basics of Stealth & Assassination]

     "The difference between a common thug and an assassin? One gets caught. The other doesn’t. You’ll either learn the difference, or you’ll fail before you ever begin."

    Class held on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Stealth Training Facility A-6.

    [Scouting, Movement & Planning]

     "No mission is won on strength alone. Your ability to move, observe, and plan is what separates the dead from the living. Make no mistake—you’ll learn the art of survival before you ever learn to kill."

    Class held on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Tactical Field B-9.

    [Practical Combat]

     "If you hesitate, you die. If you lack control, you die. If you overestimate yourself, you die. Get used to hearing that. My job is to make sure you’re worth keeping alive."

    Class held daily. Combat Arena E-3.

    Leo noted that the last three courses didn’t list a specific professor.

    Did that mean they had multiple instructors?

    Or was it too dangerous to list a name?

    Whatever the case, none of these notes sounded comforting.

    It was almost like Rodova wasn’t here to teach them.

    It was here to break them and to forge them.

    There were no easy courses. No approachable instructors.

    Only killers in the making.

    Leo exhaled slowly, stepping away from the board.

    Tomorrow, it would all begin, and he had no intention of falling behind from day one.