Since I had already obtained everything I needed, I made my way toward the training ground.
The path leading there was quiet, lined with smooth stone tiles that bore faint scratch marks—signs of countless students who had passed through before me. Some marks were shallow, others deep enough to suggest uncontrolled strength or moments of desperation. Just looking at them was enough to remind me of one simple truth.
This academy did not forgive weakness.
As I stepped through the wide metallic gates, an expansive training ground unfolded before my eyes.
It was massive.
The entire facility easily spanned the size of two football fields, divided cleanly into several specialized zones. The design was efficient, almost militaristic—every area existed for a single purpose, and none of it was wasted.
My gaze instinctively drifted toward the top right of the grounds.
A shooting range stretched across that section, divided into five lanes that increased in distance the further they extended. Targets were positioned at intervals ranging from one hundred meters to an absurd five hundred meters. Each target was reinforced, enchanted, and slightly mobile—clearly designed to prevent students from relying on static aim alone.
Only monsters would find that range "reasonable."
At the bottom right stood more than a dozen humanoid practice dummies, arranged in loose formations. Each dummy bore countless dents, scorch marks, and blade scars, yet not a single one appeared even close to breaking.
They were made of Mitrum.
An absurdly durable metal—one capable of withstanding direct impacts from A-rank demons. The academy spared no expense here. With bodies forged entirely from Mitrum, the dummies allowed students to fight without restraint, without fear of destruction or liability.
In the center of the facility lay an open area devoid of equipment.
No dummies. No targets. No obstacles.
Just space.
A place meant for footwork drills, movement practice, or refining techniques that required freedom rather than resistance.
At the top left stood a massive gym complex, its interior visible through reinforced glass walls. Inside were rows of high-grade equipment, far beyond anything from my old world. But what truly stood out was the gravity room.
It could simulate gravitational pressure up to one hundred kilograms.
With that room, students could forcibly temper their bodies by increasing the force crushing down on them, accelerating physical adaptation at a brutal pace.
Finally, at the bottom left…
A large swimming pool, stretching fifty meters in length, shimmered under the artificial lights.
This pool was deceptively important.
Infused with special medical compounds, the water drastically improved muscle recovery and stamina regeneration. It was one of the most frequently used facilities—not because it was easy, but because it allowed students to push themselves harder without permanently damaging their bodies.
"All right."
Aria's voice rang out, pulling my attention back.
"As I mentioned earlier," she said with a bright smile, "since it's your first day, there's no need to push yourselves too hard. I'll be here supervising."
She swept her gaze across the grounds, clearly pleased with the students' reactions.
"Now go and train," she declared cheerfully."Time waits for no one."
The moment she finished speaking, the atmosphere shifted.
Students dispersed instantly.
Some rushed toward the practice dummies, eager to test their strength. Others headed straight for the shooting range, their expressions sharp and focused.
I took a moment to observe.
Allen, Leon, and Lilith moved toward the dummies together. Freya didn't hesitate at all—she marched straight toward the gravity room, her back rigid with intent. Eliza calmly made her way to the shooting range, her movements unhurried yet confident.
Kevin, of course, was already near the dummies.
As I'd mentioned before, Kevin's specialty was the sword.
Even without practicing the [Levisha Style], his talent alone placed him in an entirely different league. His posture was relaxed, but every step he took carried balance and precision.
If I were to estimate his current strength…
Even if fifty versions of me attacked him simultaneously, I doubted he'd even break a sweat.
Leon was different.
He didn't wield a sword, but a pair of daggers. His build was lean, optimized for speed rather than power. Watching him move was like watching something flicker in and out of existence—his steps light, his presence fleeting.
An assassin-type.
With his speed, he could strike repeatedly before an opponent even realized they'd been hit.
Lilith stood out for an entirely different reason.
Second-ranked in the class, she wielded a spear with effortless elegance. Her expression was calm, calculating, and sharp behind thin-framed glasses. While her appearance naturally drew attention, it was her mind that made her truly dangerous.
At the age of eleven, she had received the Humanity Treaty Award—the highest recognition for scientific contribution. An achievement equivalent to a Nobel Prize in my old world.
Her proof of the Molecular Decomposition Theorem had reshaped modern medicine entirely, eradicating diseases once thought incurable.
The only reason she wasn't ranked first was simple.
She wasn't physically overwhelming.
During the admission test, her physical stats were only slightly above average—a flaw that kept her below the absolute monsters at the top.
And yet, even that "average" was leagues above mine.
Freya, on the other hand, was pure aggression.
She wielded a shortsword, her movements sharp and relentless. Her fighting style left no room to breathe, overwhelming opponents through sheer pressure.
Honestly… she was the one I wanted to fight the least.
My [Severed Moment] relied on timing and precision. Against someone who never stopped attacking, one mistake would be fatal.
Lastly, Eliza.
An archer—and an absurd one at that.
She was the only student in the entire class capable of consistently landing hits at the five-hundred-meter mark. Her arrows didn't just fly—they commanded the air.
A prodigy that appeared once every few centuries.
Those were the main characters.
And me?
I walked toward the empty center of the training ground.
No audience. No expectations.
Perfect.
I began slowly—footwork first.
Step. Shift. Pivot.
I tested my balance, my breathing, my posture. I practiced entering and exiting the state required for [Severed Moment], attempting to align my perception with the razor-thin slice of time it demanded.
Result?
Sloppy.
My timing was inconsistent. My focus wavered too easily. I could feel the technique activate for a fraction of a second… then collapse.
But not everything was bad.
Compared to before, my control had improved. My body no longer froze when attempting activation. The strain was still there, but it didn't knock the air out of my lungs like it used to.
What I did badly?
Endurance.
After repeated attempts, my head throbbed, and my vision blurred slightly. My muscles lagged behind my thoughts. I was forcing synchronization my body simply wasn't ready for.
Still… this was progress.
Since [Severed Moment] was a lost art, even if someone noticed my strange movements, they'd probably just think I was weird.
Which was fine.
I didn't want attention.
I didn't want recognition.
I just wanted to live.
To stay far away from the main characters.
Because those people?
They weren't just talented.
They were calamity magnets.
And I had no intention of being caught in their disasters.