People often say that once we graduate from school, we inevitably begin to miss the warmth of the classroom. The laughter shared with friends, the fleeting brilliance of youth, perhaps even the secret crush quietly hidden behind stolen glances and awkward conversations. Those words are not entirely wrong. Yet neither are they entirely true. Everything depends on where one chooses to look.
A classroom is a strange place where people born into completely different worlds are forced beneath the same roof and told to coexist. The rich and the desperately poor sit side by side as equals, at least on the surface. To outsiders, it sounds almost beautiful, as though the classroom were some miniature paradise where differences vanish beneath identical uniforms and stacks of textbooks. Yet hidden beneath that bright illusion lies another reality, one far darker and rarely spoken of aloud.
When people born under skies as distant as heaven and earth are gathered together, peace is never guaranteed. Hierarchies form naturally, as inevitable as shadows stretching beneath the sun.
At the very top stood the students blessed with power. Some possessed wealth so vast that even teachers hesitated to offend them. Others carried the influence of prestigious families whose names alone commanded respect wherever they were spoken. Then there were the prodigies, brilliant students proudly displayed as the school's shining achievements, along with the handsome boys and beautiful girls who effortlessly drew admiration simply by existing. They lived like nobles within the walls of the classroom, untouchable and adored, surrounded by invisible thrones built from status, talent, and appearance.
Beneath the nobles existed the middle hierarchy, a gray and uncertain layer caught between fear and ambition. These students came from ordinary families, neither rich nor poor, neither exceptional nor worthless. Their appearances were average, their talents unremarkable. Yet even within this middle caste, there existed two distinct kinds of people.
The first were those who desperately clung to the powerful above them. They flattered, obeyed, and revolved endlessly around the nobles in hopes of being welcomed into their circles. Some sought to elevate their own social standing, while others merely wished to enjoy the scraps of privilege and wealth that fell from above. Parasites would perhaps be the cruelest, yet most accurate, word to describe them.
The second type cared only for themselves.
These were the people who chose safety above all else. They became obedient yes men to the upper hierarchy while offering hollow sympathy toward those beneath them. They carefully avoided conflict, terrified of ever becoming targets themselves. Every smile they wore was rehearsed. Every expression was a mask designed for survival. Actors was perhaps the most fitting word for people like them.
And then, at the very bottom, were those born without anything at all.
The poor.
The unattractive.
Students with no talent worth praising, no family influence worth mentioning, and no charm capable of drawing attention. They existed like nameless extras wandering through the story of someone else's life, forgotten faces drifting silently through the background while others stood proudly beneath the spotlight. No one admired them. No one remembered them. Their existence carried so little weight that they became nothing more than stepping stones beneath the feet of others.
The very lowest within the hierarchy.
The slaves.
At the very back of the classroom, far from the orderly rows of desks and chairs where the morning sunlight still reached, Julian's body was pinned firmly in place by two boys gripping both of his arms. Their fingers dug harshly into his shoulders as though restraining some dangerous criminal rather than a fellow student. The scent of sweat and expensive cologne lingered heavily around them, mixing unpleasantly with the stale classroom air until the entire corner felt suffocating.
Standing directly in front of him was Ace.
Ace was one of the nobles within the classroom hierarchy, a rising star in the world of junior boxing who had recently become the national champion. Teachers praised him, students admired him, and the school proudly displayed his achievements whenever given the opportunity. Yet behind that shining reputation hid a habit known only to a few.
One of Ace's personal secrets for staying in shape was using Julian's body as his morning punching bag.
A lazy grin rested across his face as he rolled his shoulders casually, loosening his fists while staring down at Julian like a man preparing to test the durability of a new toy.
"Hey, Julian," Ace said lightly, amusement lingering within his voice. "Tighten your stomach a little. At least make this entertaining for me."
A few nearby students laughed quietly.
Others kept their eyes fixed on their phones or notebooks, pretending not to notice what was happening only a few meters away. The parasites watched with nervous smiles, eager to remain on Ace's good side, while the actors perfected their masks of indifference. Nobody wanted attention drawn toward themselves. Nobody wanted to become the next victim.
On the surface, the classroom remained lively and ordinary. Conversations continued in low murmurs. Chairs occasionally scraped against the floor. Someone near the windows burst into laughter over a joke completely unrelated to the violence taking place in the back corner.
As though Julian's suffering were nothing more than meaningless background noise.
One of the boys restraining him snickered. "Seriously, why do you even bother coming to school anymore?"
"Maybe he likes getting beaten up," the other added mockingly. "Some people have weird hobbies."
Ace chuckled softly before stepping closer.
"You should be grateful, honestly," he said with a grin. "You've contributed a lot to my national championship. Maybe I'll mention your name during my next interview."
The punch came without warning.
A heavy fist slammed directly into Julian's stomach.
The impact violently drove the air from his lungs.
For a brief instant, his vision blurred.
Pain exploded through his abdomen like fire spreading beneath his skin, forcing a strangled gasp from his throat. His body instinctively folded forward, but the boys restraining him tightened their grip immediately and forced him upright again.
"There we go," Ace said with satisfaction curling across his lips. "That's a much better reaction."
Another punch followed almost immediately.
Then another.
Each blow landed harder than the last.
The dull sounds of fists striking flesh blended cruelly with the distant classroom chatter until the violence itself began to feel disturbingly ordinary. Julian could hear laughter somewhere nearby, though he could no longer tell whether it was directed at him or not.
His ears rang violently.
A sharp ache spread across his ribs.
Warm saliva mixed with blood gathered slowly at the corner of his mouth.
"Look at him," one of the boys laughed. "He's about to cry."
"I think he already is," the other replied.
Ace grabbed Julian roughly by the hair and forced his head upward.
"What's wrong?" he asked mockingly. "Hurts too much?"
Julian tried to answer, but another fist crashed into his stomach before the words could leave his mouth.
Agony twisted through his entire body.
His knees nearly buckled beneath him.
The classroom ceiling spun faintly above his blurred vision while a cold wave of nausea crawled slowly up his throat. Every breath felt painfully shallow now, as though his lungs had begun refusing to function properly.
Several students glanced toward the scene briefly before quickly looking away again, their expressions carefully neutral. Others forced awkward smiles, pretending the violence was nothing more than rough joking between classmates.
Cowardice was safer than compassion.
Ace finally released Julian's hair before delivering one last brutal punch directly across his face.
The impact echoed sharply throughout the classroom.
Julian's body slipped free from the boys restraining him and collapsed heavily onto the floor.
The cold surface pressed painfully against his cheek.
For several long seconds, he could do nothing except lay there motionless while pain pulsed violently through every part of his body. His stomach burned unbearably, his jaw throbbed with sharp agony, and the metallic taste of blood spread slowly across his tongue.
Above him, faint laughter continued.
Someone sighed in annoyance because the noise had interrupted their conversation.
Someone else casually returned to scrolling through their phone.
And in the middle of it all, Julian remained sprawled across the cold classroom floor like discarded trash, staring blankly at the pale morning light stretching silently across the ceiling overhead.
Then suddenly, the back door of the classroom slid open with a sharp sound.
A beautiful young woman stepped inside, her long blue hair swaying gently as a school bag hung from her left shoulder. At first, her expression was calm and ordinary, but the moment her eyes landed on Julian lying motionless on the floor, her entire face changed.
Shock flashed across her eyes.
"Julian!"
Her voice trembled instantly.
Without hesitation, she rushed toward him, dropping her bag carelessly beside one of the desks before kneeling at his side.
"Julian… Julian, are you okay?"
Her name was Ellia.
She was Julian's childhood friend, someone who had remained by his side since kindergarten. From their earliest school days until now, their final year of high school, fate had always placed them within the same classroom. Years of shared memories connected them so naturally that their presence beside one another had long become ordinary.
Julian tried to answer, but pain spread sharply through his body the moment he attempted to open his mouth. His jaw throbbed unbearably, and the metallic taste of blood still lingered heavily across his tongue. In the end, he could only shift his eyes weakly toward Ellia.
Her eyes had already begun to fill with tears.
The pain Julian felt seemed reflected directly within her expression, as though every bruise on his body had carved itself into her heart instead.
Then another figure appeared beyond the still open doorway.
A tall young man entered the classroom, his handsome appearance standing in complete contrast to Julian's battered state. Even the aura surrounding him felt entirely different. Where Julian looked broken and worn down by life, this boy carried a natural confidence that drew attention effortlessly.
It was Haruto.
The moment his eyes landed toward the back of the classroom, his expression shifted.
"Hm?... Julian? Ellia?"
Confusion lasted only a second.
Then his gaze sharpened instantly.
He strode forward without hesitation before grabbing Ace violently by the collar. The atmosphere around him changed completely as a cold fury settled into his eyes, so intense that even the nearby students fell silent.
Ace's expression darkened slightly as their eyes met.
"What's your problem, wannabe hero?" he asked coldly.
Haruto's fist tightened immediately, the muscles in his arm tensing as though he were prepared to punch Ace at any moment.
Julian noticed it.
Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through his body, he forced himself to move. His trembling arms pushed weakly against the cold floor as he struggled upright, blood still dripping faintly from the corner of his mouth.
"It's okay… Haruto…"
His voice came out rough and strained.
Haruto's eyes shifted toward him immediately.
"But…"
"I'm fine," Julian said quietly, forcing the words out despite the pain tearing through his ribs. "You can let go of Ace."
For several tense seconds, nobody moved.
Then Ace slowly spread his arms slightly with a smug grin creeping back across his face.
"You heard the trash" he said mockingly.
The provocation lingered heavily in the air.
Haruto's jaw tightened.
Before the tension between them could rise any further, the sharp ringing of the school bell suddenly echoed throughout the classroom.
The sound sliced cleanly through the atmosphere like a blade.
For a brief moment, nobody moved.
Then, almost immediately, the front door of the classroom slid open.
A woman stepped inside with calm, measured footsteps, her long black hair flowing neatly behind her shoulders. The fitted uniform she wore accentuated her graceful figure effortlessly, drawing the attention of several male students near the front rows despite the heavy atmosphere lingering within the room. In one hand she carried a stack of textbooks pressed lightly against her chest, while her sharp eyes swept briefly across the classroom.
She was their homeroom teacher.
And yet, when her gaze passed over Julian lying battered on the floor beside Ellia, not even the slightest trace of concern appeared on her face.
"Everyone, take your seats," she said flatly. "Class is starting."
Her voice carried neither warmth nor surprise, as though scenes like this had long since become ordinary within these walls.
The students immediately began returning to their places.
Conversations slowly resumed in hushed whispers. Chairs scraped softly against the floor while notebooks opened one after another. The tension that had nearly exploded moments ago disappeared beneath the routine rhythm of school life with frightening ease.
As though Julian's pain simply did not matter enough to interrupt the lesson.
Ace clicked his tongue quietly before turning away with his two companions, casually returning to his seat near the windows. The smug smirk lingering on his lips never fully disappeared.
Haruto stared at his back for several seconds, his expression still dark with restrained anger. The veins along his clenched fist remained tense, but eventually he exhaled slowly and forced himself to let it go.
For now.
Ellia remained kneeling beside Julian, her brows tightly furrowed with worry. "Can you stand?" she asked softly.
Julian tried to answer, but a sharp pain immediately spread through his ribs the moment he moved. He forced out a weak nod anyway.
Without another word, Haruto crouched beside him and carefully helped lift him from the floor. Ellia quickly moved to Julian's other side, supporting his arm over her shoulder as the three of them slowly made their way toward the back row.
Each step felt painfully heavy.
Julian could feel the dull ache spreading through his stomach with every movement, while the bruises along his face throbbed relentlessly beneath the classroom lights. The metallic scent of blood still lingered faintly beneath his nose.
The entire classroom simply watched them quietly before returning to their own worlds as though nothing unusual had happened at all.
Outside the windows, the morning sunlight continued to shine peacefully across the school grounds, warm and bright in complete contrast to the cold atmosphere inside the classroom.
Haruto finally pulled Julian's chair back while Ellia carefully helped him sit down.
"You really should stop holding yourself back," Haruto muttered quietly, though the frustration in his voice was directed far more toward himself than Julian.
Ellia lowered her gaze slightly, her fingers still trembling faintly after seeing Julian covered in bruises. "Does it hurt a lot?" she asked softly.
Julian remained silent for a moment before forcing a faint smile onto his swollen face.
"I'm used to it."
The answer only made Ellia's expression darken further.
At the front of the classroom, the teacher had already begun writing across the blackboard as though nothing had happened moments earlier.
The scratching of chalk slowly filled the room.
Then suddenly, something changed.
At first, it was subtle.
A faint glow began spreading across the words written upon the blackboard, thin streams of pale light crawling slowly between the lines of chalk like veins awakening beneath the surface. The female teacher paused mid sentence, her brows narrowing slightly as the strange radiance reflected across her dark eyes.
The classroom gradually fell silent.
Several students lifted their heads in confusion.
"What… is that?" someone near the front whispered.
The glow intensified.
The white chalk markings began shining brighter and brighter until the entire blackboard pulsed with an unnatural light. Strange symbols emerged beneath the writing, intricate patterns spreading outward in circles no human hand could have drawn. The classroom lights flickered violently overhead while the air itself seemed to tremble.
A heavy pressure descended upon the room.
Julian slowly raised his head despite the pain still lingering throughout his body. Even Ace and the others had gone silent now, their earlier arrogance replaced by visible confusion.
Then the blackboard exploded with light.
A blinding radiance burst outward like a flood breaking through shattered gates.
Students screamed instantly.
The classroom disappeared beneath the overwhelming white glow as desks overturned violently and papers scattered into the air like leaves caught within a storm. The sound of terrified voices echoed everywhere around Julian while an unbearable ringing consumed his ears.
Ellia instinctively grabbed onto Julian's arm.
Haruto shouted something nearby, but the words were swallowed completely by the light.
For a brief terrifying moment, Julian felt as though his body were falling endlessly through empty space. Heat and cold intertwined around him while strange whispers echoed faintly within the darkness, voices speaking in languages he could not understand.
It was the voice of an elderly man, deep and aged, carrying the weight of countless years within every syllable. Though calm, it echoed powerfully through the darkness surrounding them, filled with reverence so profound that it almost sounded like prayer.
As if by some miracle, Julian suddenly found himself able to understand the voice perfectly, despite the language being completely unfamiliar only moments before. Then the elderly voice spoke once more.
"Praise the Goddess, the summoning of heroes from another world has succeeded."