On the highest floor of Dorm 1, eight students lounged in a large room, each one sitting in the kind of arrogant, delinquent-like posture that suggested they thought they owned the place. They laughed loudly at the smallest things, sometimes for no reason at all, while sneaking occasional glances at their 'big bad boss'—Shin Jonghak.

The 'big bad boss' sat quietly, which would normally suggest he was unfit to host such a gathering. The truth, however, was far more tragic: Shin Jonghak just wanted company.

But to his lackeys, this was not some casual hangout. No, in their eyes, this was a grand council of the elite members of the 'Novice—Veritas Class,' the kind of gathering that made them feel like they were hot shots. The scene was painfully self-aggrandizing, and if anyone else had seen it, they would have face-palmed at the absurdity. It was the kind of childish, pitiful display that wasn’t even the sad kind of pitiful—more the kind that made you want to slap yourself in secondhand embarrassment.

“Hmmm…”

Shin Jonghak, meanwhile, was mentally calculating where everything had gone wrong. His intention had been to gather elites, not a bunch of rowdy thugs. He sighed internally, reminded of Yoo Yeonha. If she had organized the gathering, it would’ve turned out much better.

“Oh right, Jonghak, isn’t there a gun user in your class?” Jin Hajun, one of his posse, broke the silence, clearly fishing for some interesting gossip.

Jonghak narrowed his eyes at the offending question, staring dangerously at the classmate who dared bring up such an annoying topic. To the others, he probably looked like he was pissed, but inside, he was actually thinking furiously about why on earth someone would choose a gun above all other weapons. Kim Chundong was clearly a whackjob in his mind.

“Um, I just heard it from somewhere. Did I hear wrong?” Jin Hajun stammered, wilting under the oppressive atmosphere Jonghak’s narrowed gaze had created.

Jonghak finally spoke. “I don’t know. I’m not interested in trash.”

“R-right,” Jin Hajun laughed nervously. “I’m not really interested either. Just curious who the fool is, haha.”

Thankfully, a voice cut through the tension, smooth and captivating. Yoo Yeonha entered the scene, her long dark hair bouncing with every step as she effortlessly slid into the conversation and took a seat beside Jonghak.

“Hanjun, you sure are curious about the strangest things~” she teased, making the boys give way, allowing her the space she so effortlessly commanded.

“O-oh, Yeonha-sshi. Y-you know... I’m always like that.” Jin Hajun stammered again, his heart racing as he sat just a bit straighter in her presence. Yeonha was stunning, and it wasn’t hard to see why half the boys in the room were crushing on her—not that Jonghak ever seemed to notice.

Glumly, Yeonha steered the conversation back on track. She knew how tender and clueless Jonghak really was. He clearly just wanted to hang out, but his personality turned it into a weird, mafia-like meeting instead. “That Chundong guy… or Chunbun or whatever. It’s an old-fashioned name, right? Anyway, don’t pay him any mind.”

“I’ll destroy him in combat training,” came the growling response from Kim Horak, all bulk and bravado. His frame was practically bursting out of his uniform, and with his constant scowl, he could’ve easily passed for a real gang member. “I’ll disable him and chase him out.”

“Do you even know him?” Jin Hajun asked, a little confused.

“I’m in Jonghak’s class, idiot,” Horak snapped. “I’ve seen him. Total weakling. I’ll crush him.”

Yeonha sighed, feeling a bit bad for Chundong, who was getting all this undeserved hate. If there was someone who actually deserved their scorn, it was that other crazy bastard. “Hey, speaking of crazies, does anyone know the other one?”

Surprisingly, it was Kim Horak who answered. “I think I saw him in the yearbook. Didn’t even show up for the photoshoot though. Weird guy. Anyway, I’ll crush him too.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Jonghak’s voice cut through the room, bringing the conversation to a halt.

Horak, who had been all fire and fury a second ago, immediately fell silent. The king had spoken.

“If you challenge someone so low-ranked, even if you win, you lose,” Jonghak said wisely. “It’s better to go after someone ranked higher. Like…”

Yoo Yeonha jumped in before Jonghak could finish. “Like Chae Nayun. Since she switched to swordsmanship last year, her skills have probably stagnated. You could totally beat her, right?”

Jonghak frowned. “She graduated second in the ranking. That means something. Her swordsmanship is impressive. In our spars... we’re tied.”

Horak let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, clearly rethinking his chances. After all, at the back of his mind, he was entertaining the thought of defeating Chae Nayun.

"Pfft…" Yeonha stifled a laugh. She wasn’t jealous of Chae Nayun—at least, that’s what she told herself—but watching Jonghak defend her was definitely amusing. “I’m leaving. It’s almost ten,” she said, standing up with a bright smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

All the boys—except Jonghak, of course—stood up to see her off.

Shin Jonghak, meanwhile, remained seated, feeling strangely burdened by her unspoken feelings. In the silence that followed, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he and Yoo Yeonha were more alike than he’d ever admitted.

***

The 1000-square-meter facility, officially known as the Novice Fitness Center, was packed with magical devices and workout equipment that could intimidate even the bravest soul—yet somehow, it remained eerily empty. Well, except for the two human-shaped blurs clashing amid flashes of steel and bursts of magic.

Kim Suho and Chae Nayun were deep in their sparring session, their faces lit up with matching grins, comparing swordsmanship with the enthusiasm of kids playing tag. The impressive part? They were duking it out in the gravitation room, where gravity was set to "Are you kidding me?" levels.

Technically speaking, Kim Suho wasn't supposed to be strong enough to handle this kind of gravity just yet. But, somehow, thanks to Chae Nayun's relentless drive (or was it her stubbornness?), he was pushing through and growing stronger by the second. Every clash between Suho’s sword and Nayun’s massive greatsword rang through the room, with Suho managing to hold his ground despite the absurd gravitational pressure.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"You’re a monster, Suho. Already getting used to this gravity? And your swordsmanship keeps improving too. You're not human," Nayun declared, shaking her head in disbelief. She said it like it was a casual observation, the way one might comment on the weather.

Suho scratched the back of his head, laughing awkwardly. "Ha ha ha… I don’t know about that. You only switched from bow to sword recently, and you’re already this good!" A small wave of inferiority hit him, chilling his heart, but it also made him want to try harder. If she could adapt so fast, so could he.

Nayun waved it off, feeling slightly guilty. "I might switch to a different sword. This greatsword is more of a hassle than I expected."

"So, what, you’re just going to keep swapping weapons? No shame?" Suho ducked under her overhead swing effortlessly, smirking all the while.

Nayun, in the middle of mentally cataloging her next weapon choice, suddenly tried to catch him off guard with a sneaky kick. But Suho was no stranger to underhanded tactics. He easily blocked her kick with his knee, then snapped his leg out in a counter, sending Nayun flying across the room with a perfectly timed strike to her side.

“Are you okay? That kick didn’t hurt you, right?” Suho jogged over, offering her a hand.

Nayun grabbed his hand, muttering, "You really are a monster, Suho. I thought I’d get you with that one for sure."

They resumed their spar, despite Nayun being clearly outmatched. Every time she got knocked down, she got right back up—like a relentless, sword-swinging zombie. "What are you made of? Should I start calling you Zombie Chae now?" Suho teased.

Zombie Chae, undeterred, swung her sword with all her might—only to completely miss. And then, out of nowhere, Suho tapped her on the head with the pommel of his sword, sending her crashing face-first into the floor. "Ugh... I keep falling for the same tricks. Damn it!" she groaned, half-laughing, half-mad.

She got up again, excited for round three, but Suho held up a hand. "You know resting is part of training, right? Let's go stretch before you actually turn into a zombie."

"Hmm... yeah, alright," she agreed, albeit reluctantly. The two stepped out of the gravitation room, the real world’s gravity suddenly feeling like a vacation. "Ugh..." Nayun stretched like a cat, trying to get used to the regular weight of the planet again.

"Oh, by the way," Suho suddenly remembered, "there's a new sharpshooter in our class. I think he uses a gun or something?"

"A gun? That Chundong guy?" Nayun's face scrunched up as if she’d just eaten something sour. "Weird… Why’s his name Chundong? Feels wrong somehow." She scratched her head, her memories of him blurring annoyingly. She thought his name was... Hajin?

"Uh, yeah. Do you... not like him or something?" Suho raised an eyebrow at her reaction.

Nayun paused, then responded, “Not like him? No, I love him. Scratch that—I think I love him.”

"Eh?" Suho blinked, utterly flustered. He liked to think of himself as a mature guy, but hearing Nayun drop that bomb out of nowhere still caught him off guard.

Then again, Nayun wasn’t exactly your average girl. With her extra lifetime of experience, she might as well have been an aunty, though nobody needed to know that. "He's gonna be the best sharpshooter in the world! Well… maybe not better than Black Lotus, but our Hajin's the best."

Suho gulped, slowly coming to the conclusion that too much training had finally fried Nayun’s brain.

And speaking of questionable people, Suho tilted his head. "Hey, remember that weird kid? The one who kept shouting about the power of love?"

Nayun's face twisted in irritation as her eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Yeah... No clue what his deal is."

***

Rachel, the princess of England and future queen of her country, couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled over her since the weapons selection earlier that day. Seriously? A gun? Her delicate brows furrowed as she recalled the bizarre moment. Of all the weapons in that vast room—swords with magical lineage, spears that could channel raw elemental power, even whips that required incredible skill to master—he had picked a gun.

Rachel had seen her fair share of eccentric choices, but never something so… mundane. A gun, of all things. She had wanted to scoff, but as a princess, maintaining composure was second nature. She reminded herself that not everyone grew up in an environment where honor and tradition dictated every choice. Still, that kid, Kim Hajin, was becoming quite the enigma.

And then there was that other kid. The one who’d kept spouting nonsense about the “power of love.”

Her cheeks warmed at the memory, a slight blush creeping up her neck. Never had she encountered someone so shameless, so openly ridiculous, yet utterly oblivious to how absurd he sounded. The way he’d stood there, confidently going on about love like it was some grand, world-shattering force, had left her speechless. It wasn’t the kind of thing she expected to hear in an elite Hero Academy, where discipline and duty reigned supreme.

She had no idea how to react. Should she have laughed? Gotten angry? Ignored him? Instead, all she’d done was stand there, red-faced, while a few students around her stifled giggles. The fact that she, a princess, had been reduced to blushing because of some shameless idiot was beyond humiliating.

With a huff, Rachel shook her head, as if the motion could physically dispel the thoughts. She had more important things to worry about than some idiot and his bizarre philosophy on love. She glanced down at the book clutched in her hand—a well-worn text on advanced mana theory. Right, focus, she told herself. She had to return it to the library before she got lost in her thoughts again.

Quickening her pace, Rachel hurried down the hall, trying to block out the lingering embarrassment. The Cube’s library was one of her favorite places. The quiet, the endless shelves of knowledge—it helped her center herself, away from the chaos of training and the constant pressure of her royal duties. The other students had their own cliques, their own small dramas, but for Rachel, there was nothing more satisfying than getting lost in a good book.

As she rounded the corner, her thoughts returned to Kim Hajin, and her frown deepened. A gun? Why would anyone willingly handicap themselves like that?

***

Kim Suho returned to his dorm room after a long training session with Chae Nayun. His muscles ached slightly, but the exhaustion was the kind that came with the satisfaction of a good workout. After putting down his bag, he headed straight for the bathroom, turning on the shower. The warm water washed over him, easing the tension in his body. It was a welcome relief after the intense sparring.

As he stood under the steady stream, Kim Suho's mind drifted back to the events of the day. The weapons selection, the quiet focus of the students, the strange choices made by some of his classmates. One of them, in particular, stood out.

The crazy kid who’d addressed him as Savior-nim back in the train.

Kim Suho had been caught off guard when it happened. The kid, whose name escaped him at the moment, had looked straight at him with a strange, almost fervent look in his eyes. It was hard to tell if the guy was just being dramatic or if he genuinely believed Suho was some sort of messianic figure. Either way, it had left Suho feeling uncomfortable.

“Savior, huh?” Suho muttered to himself, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He dried off slowly, the word echoing in his head. Savior. It wasn’t the first time someone had called him that. Even in the early days of his training, people had always placed a certain kind of expectation on him. It wasn’t just because of his Gift, the Swordsaint of Steel, but because of his personality, his innate sense of justice. He had always wanted to help people, to save them if he could.

But hearing that word now, with everything that had happened… there was a sad undertone to it.

“I wished...” he murmured, his voice barely audible as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed the faintest trace of melancholy.

He’d wished, of course. Wished to save everyone. Wished to be strong enough, fast enough, good enough. But in this world, no matter how hard he tried, there were always things beyond his control. No one could save everyone. That was a hard lesson he’d learned over time. Being a "Savior" wasn’t about glory or recognition. It was about the burden of failure that came with it.

He pulled on a simple shirt and pants, then sat down at the small desk in his room, running a hand through his damp hair. His mind wandered to the past, to the battles he’d fought and the people he’d failed to protect. No matter how many victories he had, those losses still weighed on him.

The kid today, calling him Savior—it had stirred something in him. It reminded him of the responsibility he carried, the weight of expectations he never asked for but could never fully escape. Suho leaned back in his chair, letting out a long sigh.

“Maybe... if I could wish for one thing...” He trailed off, not finishing the thought. It wasn’t something he liked to dwell on, but sometimes, in quiet moments like this, the thought surfaced anyway.

Kim Suho closed his eyes, pushing the lingering melancholy away. He had work to do. Training to complete. Battles to fight. And maybe, just maybe, people to save.