Alex bent down and picked up the chair, steadied it in front of the desk, and sat down after dusting off the dirt from the seat. He bit his lip. Most of the classroom still had their eyes fixed on him, though a few had looked away, either out of pity or something else entirely, something he could not quite name just from their expressions. And, one of them was Lucian, who had rested his head on his desk with his arms folded around it, like he was dozing off.
Alex still did not understand why Lucian had stepped in. He had spent all this time believing Lucian hated him, and part of him still believed that. But watching Lucian deliberately redirect Eldric's attention, and his minion's, onto himself had not settled well with Alex.
There was no logical reason for it. Lucian was someone who had beaten Alex to the death during the battle royale. Lucian did not particularly like Alex, that much had been obvious so far, even if the reason behind it was not known to Alex. So why had he done that? Alex could not make sense of it no matter how he turned it over in his mind.
Tap. Tap.
He was still thinking about it when a sound pulled him back to the present. A steady, rhythmic tapping of footsteps against the floor.
Alex turned toward the sound.
A man walked in through the classroom door wearing a white half-sleeve shirt and black pants, his shoes so thoroughly polished they caught the light with every step. He had muddy brown hair and similarly brown eyes, with flawless pale skin and a build that was unmistakably trained, the kind that came from years of disciplined effort. His biceps pressed visibly against the fabric of his shirt, and his broad shoulders filled it out tightly, making it clear the shirt had not been chosen with much thought for comfort but for rather boasting his build.
The man walked to the front of the classroom and stopped at the centre, behind the professor's desk. Behind him, a whiteboard nearly covered the entire front wall from end to end.
"Students, take your seats," he said. His voice had a roughness at the edges but was smooth overall, the kind of voice that expected to be listened to without needing to raise itself.
Most of the students were already seated, but a few still lingered in loose clusters around certain desks, drawn to whoever sat at the centre of their little groups. At the professor's words, they immediately broke away and returned to their own seats. The classroom, which had already been quiet, became even more so.
"I am Jaxon Scanlan," the man said. "I will be your Lead Professor."
Jaxon Scanlan. Alex repeated the name in his head. It was something he had taught himself to do, a deliberate habit to keep names from slipping away, because forgetting a person's name was a kind of rudeness, and names mattered to people more than most things did.
"I would have loved to go around the room and have everyone introduce themselves," Professor Jaxon said, and there was a faint reluctance in his voice, though not the kind born from coldness. More like honest self-awareness. "But I don't think I'd be able to remember fifty names in a single day. That's just not realistic. So instead, I'll let time do the work. The ones who shine, I'll remember faster. Get good grades. Rank well on your tests. Do well in the evaluations. Keep my attention, and your name will stick."
Alex blinked. He had not expected that. Professor Jaxon's back was perfectly straight, his eyes sharp, his whole bearing suggesting the kind of man who operated by strict rules and cared deeply about formality. And yet here he was, smiling while openly admitting he could not remember all fifty of them from day one. The contradiction left Alex a little off balance, not in a bad way, just in a way of something that did not quite match the casual personality Alex had not expected from such appearance.
"Also, I should mention," Professor Jaxon added, "this is only my third year of teaching."
Then something shifted in his expression. His brown eyes sharpened, and the ease in his voice fell away entirely.
Alex straightened in his seat without thinking.
"But don't mistake that for weakness," the professor continued. "You will be thoroughly trained here. I will push every one of you to your limit."
Alex let out a breath he had not realised he was holding, and the tension in his chest slowly released as the professor's expression eased back to its usual calm.
"I'll be taking attendance at the end of class," Professor Jaxon clarified. "And as for the subject, I will be teaching History and the Origin of the Status Window."
Alex drew in a long, slow breath. He let it out just as slowly. His gaze fixed on the professor with new focus.
He had read about the status window before. He had gone through every book in his family's home library that touched on the subject, hunting through theory after theory, searching for any mention of a person who could not level up. But the books had given him nothing. By default, everyone was supposed to level up. That was simply how it worked. So maybe, just maybe, Professor Jaxon would have something the books had not.
As Alex watched the professor, Jaxon swept his gaze across the room and it paused on Alex. For a moment they were looking directly at each other, and something about the depth of those brown eyes made Alex's chest tighten. The professor's gaze looked like he already knew something about Alex. Something that Alex had not said out loud to anyone.
An uncomfortable feeling crept in, the kind that did not explain itself but simply pressed at him, and Alex looked away without fully meaning to, following the instinct before he had thought it through.
"Today, we will begin with the history of the status window," Professor Jaxon said, his voice returning to its earlier steady tone, as though nothing had passed between them. The discomfort in Alex's chest was slowly beginning to fade. The professor had already moved on, his gaze now sweeping the centre of the room rather than resting on any one student.
***
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