Chapter 8: The Misfit Class Ranking Battle

The underground training hall was vast, stretching over 100 meters long, with sparring platforms made of reinforced white stone. Despite its grandeur, the place looked a little… unkempt.

Broken training dummies lay in the corner, cracks lined the walls, and scorch marks from previous battles stained the floor.

The instructor stood at the front of the class, arms crossed, scanning the group of delinquents, prodigies, and outcasts known as the Misfit Class.

"Alright, you punks." His voice was gruff and unimpressed. "Today, you’ll fight each other with swords. Your rank will be determined by this battle, and you’ll be stuck with it until the re-rank next year. So don’t embarrass yourselves."

Before anyone could respond—

"Hey, Teach!"

Azar jumped up, waving both hands in the air. "What are the ranks?"

The instructor let out a deep, exhausted sigh.

"The ranks are as follows: Trainee Swordsman, Adept Swordsman, Sword Expert, Sword Master, Sword Grandmaster, and at the top—Sword Saint." He eyed the class. "Your rank will determine the kind of support you’ll receive from the Academy. The stronger you are, the more resources you get."

Azar nodded vigorously, his silver-streaked hair bouncing as he processed the information.

Then, out of nowhere, a glowing pentagram spun into existence beside him, warping space.

Azar stuck his arm in, rummaged around for a second, then pulled out three cookies.

One went straight into his mouth.

The other two he handed to Dante and Iris.

Dante stared at the strange-looking cookie in his palm, squinting. "Will it liquefy my bones?"

Iris, meanwhile, had already taken a big bite, happily munching away.

Azar tilted his head. "Probably not."

Dante’s eye twitched. "The hell you mean 'probably'?"

Before Dante could throw the cookie away, Azar shoved it into his mouth.

Dante choked, almost spitting it out before realizing—

"...Wait. This is actually good."

Azar grinned smugly.

Before Dante could say anything else, the instructor clapped his hands, silencing the class.

"Iris and Lenon! Get on the arena and spar."

Iris stretched her arms, then gracefully stepped onto the platform.

Her opponent?

A towering, muscular man covered in black tattoos, his face scarred from past battles. His intense gaze locked onto Iris as he cracked his knuckles.

The instructor’s voice boomed. "Draw your swords!"

Iris reached to her side, unsheathing a katana that lightly glowed blue.

Lenon smirked and opened a small pouch attached to his belt.

Thump!

A three-meter-long greatsword fell out, landing heavily in his grip.

The sheer weight of the weapon cracked the stone beneath him.

Lenon’s smirk widened. "Hope you’re ready, little girl."

Iris just smiled back. "We’ll see."

The moment the instructor signaled the start, Lenon lunged forward, bringing his greatsword down with devastating force.

Boom!

The arena shook violently as the sword slammed into the ground, sending shards of stone and dust flying.

Iris, however, had already vanished.

Before Lenon could react, she reappeared behind him, slashing her katana in a precise arc.

Clang!

Lenon spun around at the last second, using the flat of his greatsword to block the attack. The impact sent sparks flying as their blades clashed.

Lenon grinned. "Fast. But not fast enough!"

With explosive strength, he swung his greatsword in a wide arc, aiming to bisect Iris in a single blow.

Iris barely managed to parry, but the sheer force behind the strike sent her skidding backward.

Lenon didn’t let up.

He charged forward, unleashing a relentless barrage of swings, each one capable of shattering boulders.

Iris weaved between them with graceful precision, her katana flashing like lightning as she deflected what she could and dodged what she couldn’t.

"You’re not bad, Lenon." Iris smirked, her breath steady.

Lenon chuckled. "Neither are you. But let’s see how you handle this!"

Fiery red veins pulsed under his skin as his tattoos blazed to life, surging power through his frame.

With a roar, he swung his greatsword down, aiming to split Iris in half.

Boom!

Iris barely managed to block the strike, but the force was too much—

She was sent flying backward, landing hard on the arena floor.

Lenon didn’t stop.

He lunged forward, raising his greatsword for the finishing blow—

But before his sword could reach her—

Shing!

The blade of his greatsword shattered.

Lenon’s eyes widened.

Standing between him and Iris was Dante, his own sword drawn, still glowing from the strike that had broken Lenon’s weapon.

Dante’s expression was cold. "That was going too far."

Lenon barely had time to react before—

Bang!

Azar’s foot crashed into his chest with a force like a cannon blast.

The impact was so devastating that the entire arena cracked beneath them.

Lenon’s body caved into the stone floor, his bones shattering as a massive crater formed around him.

Silence.

Then—

Azar grinned, hands on his hips. "Huh. That was a really good kick."

Dante looked down at Lenon, whose body was completely broken.

"...I think you overdid it."

Azar shrugged. "Eh, he’ll live."

The instructor sighed, rubbing his temples. "This class is going to kill me."