Most of the classes Fenrir sat through that day felt like slow-moving torture.
The lecturers spoke with an air of authority that grated on him, especially when they presented misinformation with absolute confidence.
Math and Science were the only exceptions—there, at least, he could see a curious blend of progress and misunderstanding.
Energy manipulation had taken leaps forward, but much of their foundation was flawed or limited by systemic dependency.
Still, it was amusing to see how far they had come without truly understanding the world's roots.
History was the worst offender.
They glossed over entire centuries, speaking of vague "lost eras" and the rise of the System like it was a divine miracle that had always existed.
Mana Studies and System Theory were even worse, treating divine beings like fairy tales and brushing off past conflicts as ancient myths.
But what caught Fenrir's attention most was the complete erasure of his name.
There were no mentions of him—not even as a villain or a legend. It was as if someone had purposefully scrubbed him from history.
The divine beings? Not a trace.
The war? Reduced to whispers of chaos during the "Unrecorded Time."
'So they buried it all… afraid of what people might remember? Or ashamed of what they did?'
The final class of the day was Physical Education.
Fenrir stood up and casually stretched while the others headed off to change. He didn't bother.
The hoodie and joggers he wore were comfortable, and more importantly, they didn't restrict his movement.
When the students returned, their gym uniforms looked more practical, but still had that uncomfortable flair of luxury.
Gold thread accents, fitted sleeves, unnecessary embellishments.
Not exactly ideal for sparring or real combat.
The instructor, a stocky man with a perpetually bored expression, eyed Fenrir's clothes before his gaze landed on the folded slip in Fenrir's hand.
Fenrir held it up without a word. The teacher glanced at it, grunted in acknowledgment, and waved him off.
"Alright, pair up. Sparring drills today."
The teacher announced.
Students shifted quickly, pairing off with their usual friends or classmates.
Fenrir stood alone, arms crossed, watching with little interest. That's when he noticed one other person without a partner—Elaine Croix.
She was standing stiffly, arms folded, glaring at him as if daring him to approach. Her face said it all—she would rather be anywhere else than here.
"Elaine, you'll pair with Fenrir."
The teacher said without hesitation.
Elaine's eyes widened.
"With all due respect, sir, I refuse."
The class went quiet. Murmurs followed.
"She refused?"
"Is that even allowed?"
"I mean… it's her…"
The teacher raised a brow.
"You refuse to pair up with a classmate?"
"I refuse to pair with someone system-less. If he gets hurt during the drill, I'm not taking responsibility."
Elaine said firmly, her voice slicing through the silence.
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
Fenrir didn't react, though. His expression remained the same—mildly bored, slightly amused. But inwardly, he noted the tension that fell over the class.
The term system-less wasn't just rare. It was taboo in the academy.
Insulting someone with that label would not yield any consequences because it was not against the rules, but it was part of the unspoken rules.
But Elaine had said it out loud, with no hesitation.
The teacher scratched his head, clearly not wanting to get involved in whatever this was turning into.
Fenrir stepped forward then, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. His tone was calm, but his words carried weight.
"It's fine. If she's afraid, I'll go easy."
He said.
Another round of gasps.
Elaine's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Tension wrapped around the classroom like a taut wire, every student holding their breath to see if Fenrir and Elaine would truly go through with it.
The silence was so thick it could be sliced with a knife, eyes bouncing between the two figures locked in a silent standoff.
Then, thankfully, a voice broke through the tension like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day.
"Sir! I'll partner with Fenrir!"
A cheerful voice called out.
Everyone turned to see Dain Klein waving his hand energetically as he stepped forward with a grin that practically sparkled.
The teacher blinked.
"You'll what?"
"I'll pair with Fenrir, and Elaine can take my partner instead!"
Dain said, unfazed.
A groan came from behind him.
Dain's current partner—a tall, pale girl with sharp eyes—tried to subtly wave him down, shaking her head in protest. Her glare screamed.
'Don't you dare leave me with that psycho.'
Dain either didn't notice or pretended not to.
"Come on, Fenrir. Let's give them a show!"
The teacher sighed, clearly relieved to avoid more drama.
"Fine. Swap partners. Let's get started already."
Elaine didn't say anything, but the stiff set of her shoulders told Fenrir she wasn't pleased by the outcome.
She marched over to Dain's former partner without sparing him a second glance.
Meanwhile, Dain strolled up to Fenrir with the same bright smile.
"Don't mind her. She's just going through a lot right now. She doesn't really mean what she said."
He said, tilting his head toward Elaine.
Fenrir studied Dain for a long second.
Most people who said things like that were usually being diplomatic or sarcastic.
But Dain's voice carried no malice, no passive-aggression. Just pure sincerity. It was almost painful.
Fenrir sighed internally.
'This guy… he's the worst kind of person. Honest. Kind. And probably the type who would try to make friends with a demon if it looked lonely.'
The system blinked to life at Fenrir's mental prompt, evaluating Dain.
[Dain Klein
Current Rank: C-Class
Potential: S-Class]
Fenrir narrowed his eyes. The raw energy coming off Dain was subtle but unmistakable. He could feel the pressure of untapped power, like a sealed spring waiting to explode.
'So the system's right this time… interesting.'
"Alright! Let's start, yeah?"
Dain beamed, bouncing lightly on his feet.
Fenrir barely had time to nod before Dain lunged.
There was no hesitation in his movements—only clarity and speed. His fist came fast, and Fenrir raised an arm to block, gritting his teeth as the impact sent a jolt down his bones.
'Heavy.'
Dain was smiling the whole time, even as he twisted into a roundhouse kick aimed at Fenrir's side. Fenrir dodged just in time, feeling the rush of wind cut past his hoodie.
The surrounding students murmured in surprise.
No one expected the normally bubbly Dain to be this aggressive. But Fenrir could tell: Dain wasn't being mean. He just took every opportunity seriously.
Fenrir deflected another blow and slid back a step, catching his breath.
His body ached, and he knew the systemless status meant he lacked the automatic buffs everyone else took for granted.
Still, he wasn't helpless.
Fenrir focused.
Dain's technique was strong, but he was overcommitting with each strike. There was too much momentum, too little caution. That kind of positivity often came with recklessness.
Fenrir timed the next move perfectly.
As Dain came in with a high punch, Fenrir feinted a block, shifted to the side, and swept Dain's legs mid-stride.
Dain yelped, stumbled—but rolled to regain balance almost instantly.
He landed on his feet, eyes wide with surprise—and then delight.
"Oh! You're good!"
Fenrir didn't answer. His mind was too busy processing what he'd learned. Dain was strong. S-class strong. But not invincible. His style was flawed, his defense weak.
'But he'll grow. Fast.'
Fenrir's lips twitched.
'Maybe I'll keep an eye on this one.'
The spar continued, but now, Fenrir was less focused on winning and more on observing.
Each hit, each dodge, told him something new about Dain Klein—and more importantly, about the system he once distrusted.
For once, it might have gotten something right.