In the morning, there was commotion as students surrounded a person near the academy's entrance. Murmurs filled the air, with questions like, "What do you think happened to him?" and "Why is he just standing there?" Some wondered what he might have witnessed.

A passing guard noticed the gathering and approached to investigate. "Hey! What's going on here-!" When he reached the center, he found another guard staring blankly into the horizon, his eyes bleeding.

"What the hell?! We need to get you checked. Let's go to the healing facility," the guard exclaimed, grabbing the man's arm. However, the man remained unresponsive, not moving an inch.

More guards arrived, and together they carried the man to the healing facility. Over ten mages cast healing spells on him, but to no avail. His tears had stopped, and his condition remained unchanged.

The vice-principal called upon Iris, an expert in magic, to examine the man. Iris sighed, feeling burdened by the task. "Haahh... Why is it always me? I have so many things to do," she complained.

"Please, just try to heal him. We need to know what happened or it could endanger the academy," the vice-principal urged.

"Alright, fine. Just promise me it won't take too long," Iris reluctantly agreed. As she cast a certain spell on the man, she looked surprised. "This is interesting. Despite the state of his soul, he can still be alive."

The vice-principal looked at her expectantly and was about to ask for clarification when Iris cut him off. "His body is completely fine; it's his soul that's affected. Soul magic exists, albeit rarely, but it can only transport or destroy a soul. What he has experienced is completely unheard of."

"His soul is still intact, but it seems to be trying to deform itself on its own. It's deformed and grotesque, as if a child was trying to fix a broken toy, not to its original state, but into something completely different," Iris explained.

Everyone in the room was shocked. Such a phenomenon had never been witnessed before. They shuddered at the thought of their comrade's soul attempting to take on a new form. The implications were horrifying.

However, Iris couldn't determine the cause of this transformation. She speculated that it was the man's own soul, but couldn't find a reason why it would resist returning to its original shape.

"Let his family know that he has fallen ill and won't be able to return for a while," Iris requested. "His family is dead..." one of the guards, perhaps a close friend, responded.

To this, Iris smiled even more. "Even better." Her reaction sent shivers down their spines, imagining all the terrible things their comrade would experience in her hands.

...

A white-haired girl stood in front of a door in the dormitory. She attempted to knock, but found the door ajar. Removing her shoes, she entered the apartment. "Dante, I told you to wake up before seven," she chided as she opened the bedroom door. To her surprise, Dante was nowhere to be found.

The room had a strong smell of sweat, particularly from his bed, which still had damp marks. She pinched her nose and searched the entire apartment, but Dante was nowhere to be seen.

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She showed no reaction to his absence and proceeded to the classroom where the next lesson was scheduled to be held. On her way, she encountered Rowan, battered from his punishment with the instructor. Rowan averted his gaze when their eyes met and walked in the same direction as her.

"Have you seen Dante anywhere?" Sylph's monotonous yet captivating voice reached Rowan's ears. It was a rare occurrence for anyone to be approached by Sylph, and it usually indicated a necessity.

"What did you say...?" Rowan was surprised by the question. "Have you seen a black-haired student with somewhat long hair tied behind his head and dark gray eyes?" Sylph repeated in her usual tone.

Rowan's anger flared as he thought about the description. "Why are you searching for that lowlife!? Because of that bastard, I got beaten up by an instructor as punishment!"

Sylph observed him from head to toe. He was covered in bruises, and one of his eyes was considerably swollen. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday!" Rowan retorted and stormed into the classroom. He wasn't allowed to visit the healing facility due to the punishment, which also forbade him from receiving any healing for the next three days.

Sylph grasped the situation. She had noticed Dante's strange change of behavior during the forest outing the previous day, which likely led to his punishment. The student before her was bearing the consequences.

The lessons were set to begin in about twenty minutes, and the students were present in the classroom early due to the academy's huge size.

The classroom was spacious, lacking seats because it was primarily used for training and spellcasting. The domed room provided a view of the sky on this sunny day.

After twenty minutes, a female teacher entered through the dome's entrance. She had long, jet-black hair and red eyes, appearing to be in her mid-twenties. Her physique suggested she was quite fit and skilled with a sword.

"Good morning, everyone. My name is Rave, and I'll be teaching you swordsmanship," she announced in a monotonous voice. The boys in the classroom couldn't help but stare blankly at her beauty.

Rave seemed accustomed to their gazes as she selected a wooden sword from the rack. "Before we begin, I need to assess your level of mastery. Pair up with a partner and engage in sparring. If you lose, wait for another student to lose, and then pair up with them. The same goes for the winners."

As everyone was about to find a partner, the entrance opened, capturing their attention. Dante stood there with a vacant expression, walking up to the teacher and bowing his head slightly. In a robotic voice, devoid of emotion, he apologized, "I'm sorry, teacher. I got lost and that's why I'm late."

The teacher nodded, acknowledging his apology. "Very well. I heard you joined yesterday, and since you've apologized, pair up with someone. Spar with them so I can assess your skill."

Dante took a sword and paired up with a brown-haired boy. The boy smiled at him and introduced himself, "My name is Alexander Ironheart. What's yours?"

"Dante," he replied wearily.

"Well, Dante, let's do our best!" Alexander exclaimed, dashing forward and slashing diagonally from beneath.

Dante blocked the attack with his sword, but he was pushed back and fell to the ground. Slowly, he rose to his feet, assuming an awkward stance.

Alexander looked at him in surprise. It wasn't because he stood up but because he had won so easily. Something about the boy in front of him felt off, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was.

Before they could engage in another round, the teacher intervened. "Dante, come here. You're too weak to handle a sword. I'll give you a different training regimen." Her interruption halted their spar.

"You will run around the dome until you're completely exhausted. When you reach that point, come to me, and I'll replenish your stamina. I can't allow you to wield a sword with such a weak body."

Dante stared at her with a blank expression and hazy, tired eyes, then began running around the dome without asking any questions.

Everyone witnessed this exchange, and most of them mocked Dante, with a few exceptions like Sylph, a blue-haired boy, and a pair of blond siblings.

As Dante ran tirelessly around the dome, his steps growing heavier and heavier, the other students resumed their sparring sessions. They couldn't help but glance at him occasionally, some with curiosity and others with disdain…