The human Hydrogen bomb

Rin had faced a lot of strange things.

Molten lava lands.

Frost giants.

Feral monsters.

Academy food.

But none of it prepared her for the Advanced Experimental Magic Program’s Class 7-Z — lovingly nicknamed “The Zone of High Probability Explosions.”

---

Welcome to Class 7-Z

The classroom looked more like a battlefield than a place of learning. Scorch marks adorned the walls. The ceiling had a suspicious patch of moss. A single desk had been fused with the floor, and no one dared sit near it.

Rin stood awkwardly near the door as the students turned to size up the new arrival.

A boy in a cape floated past her upside down, muttering equations.

A girl with twin drills for hair sniffed and muttered, “Another commoner with strong bones. Typical.”

A half-dwarf was juggling enchanted anvils in the corner.

One student was meditating inside a glass sphere filled with bees.

Rin blinked.

> “…I’m in the anime version of a science accident.”

Before she could even introduce herself, a sharp voice cut through the hum.

“You. New girl. You look like you’ve fought a volcano barehanded.”

Rin turned. Standing in front of her was a tiny elf girl, maybe ten years old in appearance, with silver hair, cold green eyes, and a big attitude.

“I am Lirien Val’Aris of the Highmoon Grove, fourth-ranked in this class and bearer of the Spirit Crest of Gale. I challenge you to a duel.”

Rin blinked. “A… duel? I literally just got here.”

“It is customary.”

“I literally just sat down.”

“I sense danger in you. I wish to test it.”

“…Kid, go play in the sandbox or something.”

“I’m one-hundred-and-twenty-seven.”

“Okay, fine, Elf Nana.”

---

Within minutes, a magical dueling circle was summoned on the training field. Students gathered, snacks in hand, bets being placed.

“Begin!” barked the instructor from behind a reinforced shield.

Lirien vanished.

Literally vanished.

Rin felt a magical bolt graze her cheek before she even saw the elf move.

The next few seconds were a blur of wind blades, feints, illusion flashes, and flickering lights.

> “Holy crap she’s fast—”

Rin dodged, rolled, and ducked beneath a blinding volley of condensed air projectiles.

> “This is a child! This is CHILD-ASSAULT!”

Lirien struck with precision, her footwork perfect, each movement rehearsed over a century of training.

But Rin had lava-born reflexes, and frost-giant dodge training.

She smiled.

Time to get real.

In the blink of an eye, Rin matched her speed. The crowd gasped. Their movements blurred, kicking up massive shockwaves.

Lirien’s eyes widened.

“You were holding back.”

“I was trying not to backhand an elf child into next week.”

Rin ducked under a slicing gust and surged forward. Her fist moved instinctively—

—so fast it ignited the hydrogen molecules in the air.

A thunderous explosion rocked the training field.

A column of fire shot into the sky, blowing off the top of a tree.

Lirien was launched backward, spinning, until she bounced off the magical barrier like a pinball.

Silence.

Smoke.

And then…

“Winner: Rin,” said the instructor, casually munching popcorn.

Rin stood there, smoking slightly.

“...Was that a punch, or a spontaneous nuclear incident?” someone whispered.

Lirien sat up, hair sing