"Hello, Esther," the instructor began, his tone firm yet encouraging. "I'm sure you understand your weaknesses better than anyone. However, I will still point out the important ones, in case you aren't unaware. Although you can deal damage and control blood, you only utilize about 50% or less of your true potential.He paused, allowing his words to sink in, observing Esther's reaction. She stood there, a mixture of surprise and contemplation on her face, as she absorbed the critique. Her fingers twitched slightly, a sign of her internal struggle to process the feedback while maintaining her composure."I trust that you will overcome these shortcomings sooner or later," he continued, his voice steady and confident. "See you in class A-1." With a decisive gesture, he dismissed her, signaling the end of her evaluation. Still grappling with the shock of the situation, Esther managed a nod before stepping aside, her mind racing with thoughts of improvement and determination."Ranked 4th

He wasn't exactly afraid of any apparent hostile force; instead, he felt a deep, unsettling sense of unease. It was a sensation that gnawed at him, leaving him restless and anxious as though the air around him was saturated with foreboding. Ryoshu seemed to sense an immense presence, as if unseen deities were observing him from the void, their gaze penetrating and all-knowing. This eerie feeling was so intense that he couldn't tell if it was a product of his imagination or something more tangible, a whisper of otherworldly scrutiny that wrapped around his soul.'Could I be hallucinating?' he wondered, his thoughts a whirlpool of confusion and doubt, swirling in a chaotic dance of uncertainty. The question echoed in his mind, but there was no time for answers or clarity, only a gnawing dread that refused to be silenced.Time, relentless and unforgiving, did not wait for his chaotic mind to settle. The moments he has ticked away, dragging him forward despite his inner turmoil, each tic

Ryoshu was on the verge of shaking his head vigorously in refusal. He could feel his muscles tensing, ready to execute the motion, but somehow, inexplicably, the microphone ended up in his hand in less than the blink of an eye. It was as if the universe had conspired against him in that fleeting moment. The cold metal of the microphone pressed into his palm, its unexpected presence grounding and alarming. The weight of it anchored him to the spot, preventing any escape."Yes, may I speak?" His voice echoed through the vast expanse of the auditorium, magnified by the sound system and reaching every corner of the room. The unexpected amplification startled him, and he could almost hear a collective murmur of surprise from the audience. The sound waves bounced off the high ceilings and walls, creating an almost ethereal reverberation that made his simple question feel profound and commanding.'Huh???' he thought, bewildered. How had this happened? One moment, he was preparing to shrink

"So... now I find myself playing the part of a guy who's not only incredibly lucky but also has a penchant for boasting? A certified clown, huh? Well, I suppose it's not all bad... at least that fall managed to eliminate many of my enemies."Ryoshu muttered these words under his breath, the taste of irony heavy on his tongue. The scene around him was still a blur of motion and noise, the aftermath of his spectacular mishap. The faces of his peers were a mixture of amusement, shock, and some poorly hidden delight. Yet, standing out in the chaotic background was Ms. Rufus. Her usually stern face was softened by concern as she pushed through the small crowd that had gathered."Are you alright... um, are you hurt?" she asked gently, her voice a calm oasis amidst the hubbub. She knelt beside him, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were afraid of causing him further pain.Ms. Rufus's presence starkly contrasted with the cold tile floor and the harsh fluorescent lights overhead. H

After the grand opening ceremony—one that could only be described as rather tedious if we’re being honest—drew to a close, the upper-level students wasted no time descending upon the new students to recruit them into various clubs. It was a bustling scene, filled with vibrant pitches and lively discussions, each club trying to outshine the other to attract fresh members. Tables lined the sprawling campus green, each draped with colorful banners and adorned with flyers and posters. Donning distinctive uniforms or insignias, club members called out to the passing students, their voices blending into a cacophony of persuasive enthusiasm.Amidst this organized chaos, one individual remained conspicuously overlooked. He stood at the crowd's edge, unnoticed by the bustling upper-level and eager first-year students. It wasn't for lack of effort; everyone knew precisely why he was ignored, though it was a topic that seldom surfaced in conversation. His eyes, dark and thoughtful eyes, survey