Chương 7: The start of something great!!
Micah stepped forward, his boots thudding against the floor. He carried the tray with one hand, his posture oozing cocky confidence. "Alright, kiddos, listen up," he said, his deep voice laced with mockery. "On this tray are your new best friends: participation consoles. Fancy little things that strap around your wrists and track everything you do."
He began handing them out, moving slowly, as though savoring the attention.
"You know all of these brings memories. I'm actually honoured miss Brooks here gave us the honor of doing this. Thing is, you may not have heard but back in our time, we absolutely demolished this test. And it's not been done since then!"
Kelvin snorted. "What's the over-under on him throwing in a shitty joke about how he 'crushed it' three years ago?"
"Over," Noah said without hesitation.
As if on cue, Micah stopped beside a student, tapped their bracelet, and projected a holographic screen into the air. The numbers on display made the room fall silent.
"This," Micah announced smugly, "is the record my team set three years ago. Feel free to try and beat it—but don't get your hopes up."
Kelvin groaned. "I hate him already. Smug bastard."
Noah's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. "What gave it away? The bald head or the god complex?"
Micah continued his circuit, pausing now and then to toss out remarks like, "Try not to die out there," and "Maybe you'll make it halfway to our record if you work hard enough."
Noah clenched his fists. 'This guy's insufferable. And the way he looks down on everyone—like we're not even worth his time.'
Once all the bracelets had been distributed, Micah stepped back and folded his arms. "These beauties will track everything—kills, assists, retrievals, and even how many times you trip over your own feet. At the end of the exercise, we'll know exactly who pulled their weight and who didn't. And trust me, if you're deadweight, the only reward you'll get is knowing you dragged your team down with you."
The room bristled, tension increasing.
Sienna finally spoke, her voice as cold as her reputation. "Your bracelets also have trackers and health monitors. If you get lost, injured, or worse, the system will alert the academy. Don't think of it as a safety net—think of it as a leash. If you can't handle the pressure, stay out of the field."
Kelvin's shoulders slumped. "God, she's terrifying. Do you think she's always been this frosty, or did someone piss in her cereal as a kid?"
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Do you want her to hear you say that?"
Kelvin winced. "Point taken."
Micah smirked and tapped his own bracelet. "Oh, and for the record? Our score wasn't just numbers—it was domination. If you want a taste of what it feels like to be the best, you're gonna have to do a hell of a lot better than what I'm seeing here."
'Fuck this guy,' Noah thought, glaring at Micah. 'I don't care how good you are. You're still just another asshole in a shiny uniform.'
Miss Brooks stepped forward, her heels clicking with purpose. "Thank you, Micah. Thank you, Sophia," she said with a polite smile. "You may return to your duties now. We'll take it from here."
Micah smirked one last time before leaving, clearly reveling in his performance. Sophia, on the other hand, didn't spare a single glance back. The door clicked shut behind them, and the room seemed to release a collective breath.
Miss Brooks turned to the class, with a certain expression...one that looked almost feral. "Now, listen up," she began, her voice sharp raised high for all to hear"Your transport is being prepared as we speak. In the meantime, I want you all to form your groups as quickly as possible. And remember—these groups are permanent for the semester, so choose wisely."
The class began to stir, students whispering and looking around, but Miss Brooks wasn't finished.
"Oh, and there's one more thing I forgot to mention."
Her tone shifted, taking on an edge that made the room fall silent. She crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping across the sea of nervous faces.
Miss Brooks clasped her hands behind her back, her gaze fierce as she surveyed the room. The energy in the air could be felt, the students clutching their new gear with trembling hands—not from fear, but from a barely-contained eagerness to put them to use.
"As you prepare for this exercise," she began, her tone crisp, "let me remind you of a few facts that should put things in perspective. For starters, it's almost a foregone conclusion that 1A will come out ahead of the other classes." She let that hang in the air, her words slicing through the hopeful murmurs like a blade.
Noah shot Kelvin a side glance. "Damn, she's not even sugarcoating it."
Kelvin snorted. "Why bother? She's just spitting the truth. We're not exactly the school's golden children."
Miss Brooks continued, her heels clicking against the floor as she began to pace. "Secondly, it's also well-known that Class B traditionally outperforms Class C in these evaluations. That's just history talking." She stopped mid-step, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But why am I telling you this?"
Noah arched a brow. 'Oh, here it comes.'
"It's because this isn't just about you as individuals or even as a group. The class as a whole gets evaluated, and guess what? That reflects directly on the teacher." Her gaze swept over them, lingering just long enough on a few students to make them squirm.
As she started walking through the rows, her eyes scanned the students clutching their beast gear. Some held it like prized trophies; others fidgeted, their excitement barely contained.
"This gear you're holding?" She gestured toward a student gripping his gauntlet like it might come alive in his hands. "It's not just a fancy toy. It's a tool. And how you use it will determine whether this class rises to the occasion or becomes a laughingstock."
She stopped near Noah and Kelvin, her gaze sharp enough to cut steel. "I expect more than mediocrity. You should expect more from yourselves."
Noah tightened his grip on his gear, her words lighting a fire in his chest. Kelvin leaned closer and muttered, "She's laying it on thick, huh?"
"Yeah," Noah whispered back, "but she's not wrong."
Miss Brooks moved on, her voice ringing out. "You're all dying to try these on, I can see that. But don't let that excitement cloud your focus. There's a lot at stake here—your grades, your futures, and, yes, my reputation. So don't screw this up."
She stopped in the center of the room, planting her hands on her hips. "This isn't just another test. It's a chance to prove that this class can do more than just meet expectations. It's a chance to exceed them. And if that's not motivation enough…"
She straightened her posture, and as if on cue, her chest rose with a commanding bounce that sent a ripple through the room. Several students stood up straighter, their attention sharper than ever.
Noah's jaw tightened as a single thought burned in his mind. 'She's so awesome!!!'
"I wasn't made Class 1B's homeroom teacher because I wasn't good enough to teach Class 1A," she declared, her voice rising with every word. Then, with deliberate slowness, she beat her fist against her chest, causing a ripple effect that had more than a few students' eyes glued to her.
"I was made your teacher because I make winners." She pointed a manicured finger at the class. "Don't fuck this up!"
The room buzzed with renewed energy, her words silencing the murmur like a war cry.
If her declaration wasn't motivation enough, the ripple effect of her chest was. At least for some.
Noah's eyes snapped back to her face, his heart pounding. Focus, he told himself, but his lips curled into a grin he couldn't quite suppress.
'Goddamn, she knows how to work a crowd.'
Kelvin leaned over, muttering, "Did she just…?"
"She did," Noah replied, his voice low.
Kelvin shook his head, trying not to laugh. "Man, I don't know whether to feel inspired or intimidated."
"All I know is," Noah said, cracking his knuckles, "I'm ready. Let's do this!!!"
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