Horizon Academy—the greatest generalized training facility in the world.

Situated on an artificial island in the Atlantic bearing the same name, Horizon Academy hosted the most elite aspiring Heroes from around the world. The privilege of attending the academy was one reserved for the talents who stood head and shoulders above their peers. Under the tutelage of licensed Heroes, these upstart youths would be spoonfed personalized education for their unique skill sets.

Since the student body consisted only of those with truly amazing talent worthy of being called ‘the future of the human race’, there were no minimum or maximum student counts. In the hypothetical scenario where an entire generation of eighteen-year-olds were all mediocre across the whole world, that year would see no new students at Horizon Academy. As the school could not—and would not—risk tarnishing its reputation, there had never been a case of false admission. Bribes were not enough to catch the attention of most world-renowned Heroes, and the Headmaster was notoriously justice-minded.

My cadet license identified me as a ‘First-Year Combat Cadet’, which meant I was enrolled in the combat course. There were technically only two courses at Horizon Academy: combat and non-combat. However, I remember writing that there were three unofficial variants to each of those courses: royal, general, and specialist. I’ll explain more about those as they become relevant to the scene.

The first two days of classes were extremely important, as they determined which of these three ‘variants’ students found themselves in. Most of the main cast were classified as royal combat cadets, so I needed to reach that minimum standard if I wanted to leech off some of their plot armor.

“Royal standard, eh?” I muttered to myself.

“If you aren’t going in, could you not block the door?”

I glanced at the student behind me. He had plain, angular features accented by dark hair and pale skin that made him look sickly under the indoor lighting. Since I didn’t recognize him, he was probably some nameless extra.

“Heh,” I smirked and made my way into the classroom, joining a line waiting to speak with a pair of adults behind a desk at the front of the classroom. As I passed through the doorway, I noticed a large plaque on the front of it that said [1A - Combat] in bold, silver font.

Class 1A in the combat course. If I attained the royal standard, this would be my homeroom for the remainder of the semester. For now, all incoming combat freshmen were to report here to be tested and sorted according to our capabilities.

Why would the students need to be sorted?

Obviously, because even amongst the elite of the elites, there is no equality amongst humans. When the purpose of this academy is to raise the Heroes who will guide humanity into the future, it would be the height of ridiculousness to have the highest-ranked student in the same class as the lowest. Each class was tailored to the level of the students within, and those who attained the highest level would receive the highest number of resources. I got a lot of backlash for this from my readers, but I stand by my logic.

Let me ask you this. If you were being invaded by a billion bloodthirsty demons who wanted nothing more than to massacre humans, would you rather have a fully-developed super-prodigy who is capable of German-suplexing gods, or a bunch of mediocre resource-sinks?

It was a trick question. Both are necessary.

You see, characters like Thaddeus were important to take on the leaders of the enemy forces, such as Demon Queen Selena. However, if the armies of demons or monsters or aliens or whatever massacred all the humans while he was fighting, he would return home to an empty world. Meat shields are necessary when the fate of humanity is at stake; therefore, Horizon Academy distributes its vast resources to training both types of Heroes.

This is where the ‘unofficial variants’ come into play. Each year of incoming freshmen students is sorted into one of two classes: Alpha (1A) or Beta (1B). Class 1A historically only had between seven and fifteen students at any one time, while class 1B would take the remainder. Those sorted into an Alpha class for their year were unofficially referred to as ‘royal’ students. Those sorted into a Beta class were called ‘general’ students, while anyone receiving private training from an instructor was called a ‘specialist’.

Of course, the school didn't publicly acknowledge the existence of these classifications, hence the term ‘unofficial’. This was mostly a means of pretending ignorance when some influential noble or American umbrella parent tried to bully the school into giving their children specific ‘classifications’. Honestly, they didn’t need to go that far, as even the leaders of the various human nations, such as the emperors of the Eastern and Western Empires or the President of the United States of America had limited influence here.

“Ummm?”

I just wrote that bit in because I worked in fast food for a while, and I know how stupid and entitled a surprising number of humans can be.

“Excuse me?”

So long as I am the author—the god of this world—no corrupt force or external influence would ever so much as touch the sanctity of Horizon Academy. This was a pure facility designed to take those with talent and turn them into Heroes.

“You there, with the plain face and dumb expression!”

“Who, me?” I asked.

The woman behind the desk nodded. “Yes, you. You’re holding up the line. Show me your badge and I’ll send you on your way.”

“Right…”

I showed her my badge and she typed my id-number into her tablet before pointing to the door I entered from. “You will have your practical examination first, followed by a theoretical exam at noon. Report to Professor Lincoln at Training Field 13.”

Field 13? It was a different field from the one Thaddeus would be assigned to, but I couldn’t remember if any other important characters would be there. Since I wrote most of the story from the main character’s perspective, little details like where the rest of the main cast was at any given time could be a little ambiguous. Thaddeus was assigned to Training Field 1, where he would meet Imperial Prince August for the first time.

I made my way over to Training Field 13 without any incident. The training fields were clustered near the front of the campus as a sort of propaganda effort. The first thing anybody visiting the academy would see after passing through the front gates would be all the students training in the fields. I also intended this to be a security thing, since all the students who were training in the fields were either armed, or they could readily obtain a weapon in an emergency.

When I reached Training Field 13, I took a moment to examine every student I could see, just in case there was an important character here. After a few minutes of careful scrutiny, I sighed.

“Why are there so many extras?” I groaned. “Where are all the important people?”

“Wow.”

“You got a problem with me?” I demanded while whirling around. “I…” My protests died on my lips when I saw the woman standing behind me.

Obsidian-black hair, pale-white skin, sapphire-blue eyes, and a blue, silver-rimmed dress…

I stumbled away from her. Catching my foot on a tuft of grass, I tripped and fell on my rear. It was probably my imagination, but I felt a phantom touch on my neck where she almost killed me not too long ago.

“Lilith…!”

The corners of her lips turned up into a vicious smirk. She licked her lips as her eyes roamed up and down my body. “A pathetic, weak little boy…”

Fighting back the horrifying feeling of déjà vu, I pushed myself to my feet and brushed the dirt and grass from my pants.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said while trying to keep my voice calm. Since my hands were shaking, I folded my arms and stared at her in what I hoped looked like ‘defiance’.

“Hmmm?” Her eyes sparkled with interest.

Lilith was a character I didn’t know how to interact with. She was originally an antagonist in the first arc—at the same time as the Magic Bomber—and she was originally destined to be killed by Thaddeus.

“Are you here to take the rank examination?” I asked.

Her brow furrowed and she sighed. “How mundane.” Without another word, she turned and walked away.

“...”

‘What was that about?’

Maybe ten minutes later, though I never bothered to check the clock so that was a rough estimate based on how bored I felt, the instructor finally arrived. Though nobody announced his presence, everybody felt his approach. The light chatter between cadets grew silent as a heavy pressure bore down on everybody, drawing our attention to a huge man walking toward us with a confident gait.

He wore the standard uniform of a Horizon Academy professor—a military jacket with a name badge and the number 47—his Hero rank—listed over the left breast. Professors were allowed more freedom with their shoes and pants, though most wore simple slacks from what I could remember. Lincoln was a little different from the norm because he wore cargo pants and sneakers, whereas plenty of professors tried to look as professional as possible. I made him different because he was the main character’s homeroom teacher.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Professor Lincoln stopped in the center of the training field with all eyes on him. Though I remember writing that he was 6’9’’ in the story, I didn’t really grasp how big that was until he was standing in front of me. He clapped his hands, sending a massive boom through the field. “Everybody line up, nice and straight.”

Without a moment of hesitation, every cadet present rushed to line up. I unconsciously straightened my back and squared my shoulders as his roaming eyes passed over me. Once we were all lined up, he addressed us again:

“Normally, I would say that you are each the most promising humans of your age. However, this year marks a momentous milestone in the history of Horizon Academy. I would like to welcome our alien, demon, cyborg, and treader exchange students by acknowledging how exceptional you each are. It is my hope, and the hope of Horizon Academy, that you enjoy your time here and find meaning in learning the ways and practices of Heroes.”

‘Cyborgs and treaders were here, too?’

“That being said, you are here to take a practical examination. Though I am sure you all understand, I will explain the exam anyway because there might be some here who didn’t research what type of school they would be attending.

“First, each of you will choose a primary weapon. The school will supply you with a standard-issue weapon for the duration of your stay here. If you graduate, you will receive a first-class weapon crafted with your abilities in mind. You are expected to maintain your weapon as if it were your own child. Broken children cannot be replaced, though there is always the option of buying new ones yourself.

“After choosing a weapon, you will each be given a chance to demonstrate your capabilities. As abilities tend to be unique, we decided that it would be more impactful to allow students to demonstrate their strengths rather than perform a generalized sequence of tasks. If your demonstration requires the participation of another person, such as a sparring partner, you may request my participation. Should you cause notable harm to yourself or another student, you will immediately fail and your admission status will be put under review.

“Finally, you are expected to reveal the totality of your abilities without restraint. Though we cannot force you to do so, I highly encourage it. Horizon Academy exists for the sole purpose of nurturing you, and the more value a person has, the more resources we can justify investing in them. Should you manage to land yourself in the top ten cadets of your year, your life will be luxury so long as you maintain your rank.”

After he finished his explanation, he pointed at a long rack of weapons lining one side of the training field. “You may now select your weapon.”

Dozens of cadets rushed over to the racks, while others, like me, took a more leisurely pace. While the nervous frontrunners tripped over each other trying to get their weapons first, we understood that there were more than enough weapons for everybody, and every weapon was approximately the same quality.

When it was my turn to select a weapon, I hesitated. As I prepared over the last week for this exam, I obviously thought about what weapon I would choose. The problem was that I didn’t know what weapon would be best for me. Should I manage to steal a Sword Art, then I would need to wield a sword, but if I stole a Spear Art, a Bow Art, or a Gun Art, then I would need to use a spear, bow, or gun, respectively.

Basically, I didn’t know what weapon I would end up specializing in, or if I would ever specialize in the first place.

That being the case, what was the best weapon for me to grab now?

The answer was unexpectedly obvious, now that I was here. I was originally going to grab the gun since it had a relatively low barrier to lethality, but there were a few options here that didn’t exist in the novel. Scanning the rack, my eyes noted a beautiful silver staff topped with a blue gemstone, a cybernetic implant array, and some sort of alien tech. For obvious reasons, I pretended to not notice the demon contract sitting conspicuously in the center.

The cybernetic implant array was extremely tempting since I had the Machine Resonance stat, but this wasn’t a good time to get one. Once I took care of the Machine Father, I would get myself a nice, high-quality cybernetic implant array without fear of becoming a mindless soldier in an apocalyptic army.

The alien tech was out of the question, if only because I had no idea what it was.

I reached out and took the silver staff in hand, marveling at the smooth, metallic texture. Hugging it against my chest, I looked around warily as I made my way over to the growing line of students desperate to perform well in their demonstrations.

“I wasn’t expecting a human to claim one of our weapons,” Lilith said while cutting in front of me in line. “Do you even know how to use it?”

“Sure do,” I said confidently.

Princess Diana, one of the main heroines in the story, was a sorcerer. I agonized endlessly over the narrative details of how she acquired a demon staff and learned to use it. Though I had never actually used one myself, I understood the theory.

“You sure are confident for a weakling,” she said. “How fragile is your ego, I wonder? I bet you’re adorable when you’re broken.”

I shuddered involuntarily when I met her predatory gaze. “I’m more of the ‘breaking’ type, personally. If that doesn’t work for you, then I think you’ll need to look elsewhere.”

She blinked, a hint of shock crossing her features before quickly being replaced with renewed interest. “Very nice. I think we’ll get along quite well.”

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to catch the interest of the OP main characters, not the villains-turned-cadets, but Lilith wasn’t a bad ally to have. She was ridiculous in her own right, which is why I had to kill her off early in the original story.

One by one, the cadets each stepped forward and performed their practiced demonstrations. Since everybody else—except Lilith and I—were extras, I didn’t pay too much attention to them. There were a lot of flashy magics and whatnot, though the most boring had to be the sweaty grunts and growls of wannabe Heroes desperately trying to spar against Professor Lincoln. Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t a shounen anime and their defiant shouts fell on deaf ears. Professor Lincoln effortlessly dismantled their stances and left them groaning on the floor nursing fresh bruises.

Gradually, the line thinned until Lilith was next.

“Trip on a heart demon,” I muttered as she stepped up.

She whirled around and I snorted a laugh at her dumbfounded expression.

“Go on,” I said while motioning for her to leave.

‘Trip on a heart demon’ was the demon equivalent of saying ‘break a leg’. Since the cultural exchange was just beginning between our two races, it was unlikely that many humans, if any, had heard that expression yet. I decided to drop some bait here to put Lilith on the back foot—I didn’t dare let Lilith control the pace of our budding ‘relationship’, whatever it ended up being. There were a ton of ways to take control of any kind of relationship, and I chose ‘mystery’ in this case.

Lilith stopped when she was a good distance away and raised her own silver staff. Her obsidian hair fluttered lightly in the wind.

“I demand obedience,” she declared in a voice like thunder.

Everybody in Training Field 13 simultaneously flinched, except for me and Professor Lincoln. It felt like some sort of oppressive force slammed into my mind, but it recoiled upon meeting an equally powerful force. I yawned while looking around at my fellow cadets with a smirk.

“Kneel before your master,” Lilith commanded.

Those who were affected by her magic immediately kneeled. As is the case with control magic, their minds were all intact and most of them were glaring at her, but none of them could resist her orders. Their bodies obeyed the will of the superior master.

So why was I able to resist?

Control magic is a direct numerical comparison of the psychic resonance stat adjusted by the charm modifier. Lilith has a low psychic resonance despite being a succubus. Her charm modifier alone was strong enough to overpower normal humans and cadets in the early stages of their Hero training, but it was not enough to suppress me. Rule of Cool was coming in clutch.

“That’s enough,” Lincoln said.

Lilith smiled and clapped her hands together twice. Released from her spell, the other cadets all lurched to their feet, some of them stumbling as they staggered away from her.

I overheard a nearby cadet whisper, “Monster…”

‘Heh. These guys have no idea.’

As the person who created Lilith, I knew her specs pretty well. Most succubi specialized in control and illusion magic, but Lilith was different. She had a special trait that guided her down a far more destructive path. Since she used control magic in this exam, she was probably hiding her strength.

Then again, that display was probably enough to get her into the royal combat class. She was originally a villain capable of fighting Thaddeus, after all. Though she did lose pretty quickly…

Anyway, now it was my turn to demonstrate my skills. After a whole week of intense practice, I hoped I could demonstrate a mere fraction of my potential.

=Magic Bomber=

-Magic Trait-

Improved rate of acquisition for spells that cause, manage, or manipulate explosions. The user’s mana will have the [Explosive] property.

=============

After I made my way into the center of the field, Professor Lincoln gestured for me to begin my demonstration. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, feeling the mana flowing through my body. It was a violent storm raging like a boundless inferno.

‘This is a little different from before…’

The energy was much more violent than it had been when I was practicing the last few days. A bead of sweat ran down my forehead and caught on my chin. Biting my lip, I growled in defiance while forcing the energy to gather in the palm of my hand. Pointing my finger at the sky in the shape of a gun, I issued a dramatic declaration worthy of my status as the creator of this world:

“Bang.”

My vision went white and horrendous pain overwhelmed me for a fraction of a second before all sensation ceased. Though I blinked my eyes a few times and tried to move my hands, there was nothing.

‘Hello?’ I tried to ask, but the words wouldn’t form in my mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, but actually spanned an indeterminable amount of time, sensation returned like a flood. I collapsed to the ground, groaning while pressing my palms to the side of my head. The world was too bright and too loud, yet there was no sound at all. My nose stung and I gagged reflexively, yet there were no smells. The ground was fluffy sandpaper grinding my skin like rubbing the softest wool sweater over a second-degree sunburn. The taste…

I sniffed twice and licked my lips.

“The air tastes like cinnamon…”

“Of all the observations you could have vocalized, I did not predict that you would choose that one.”

The voice was monotone and feminine, reminiscent of a text-to-speech program.

“And who are you?” I challenged while pushing myself to my feet. I cast my eyes about, trying to grasp my current location.

There was nothing around me. No ground, no walls, no ceiling. I was standing on nothing, yet the space around me was bright and filled with vibrant colors, like a rainbow refracted by a prism.

“I am Gramma.”.

“...Gramma?” I never made a character like that.

“You may call me the Editor.”