While the students were still murmuring with their usual speculation and anxiety—and before any instructor had begun the morning lecture—something happened that broke the routine of boredom and anticipation.
The main door of the lecture hall opened quietly, yet with a presence that could not be ignored. It wasn't the ordinary creak of a door; it was more like the sound of a theater curtain being drawn before a grand performance.
A sudden silence spread through the hall. Even the most persistent whispers faded away, and every eye turned toward the entrance.
Had Dean Hargrave decided to grace us with another morning visit to remind us how insignificant we were?
…No.
This was a visit from several monsters.
Not monsters in the literal sense.
Three students walked in, moving with the calm confidence of people who were accustomed to having every gaze fixed on them. They were not wearing the same dull gray uniform that the rest of us—common first-year students—were forced to wear.
No.
Their clothes looked like modified, far more refined versions of the academy uniform, tailored with meticulous details and fabrics that were clearly far more expensive.
The one in front was a tall young man with a powerful yet lean build that hinted at strict military discipline. His platinum-blond hair was cut short and styled with precision, like a polished golden helmet.
His eyes were a cold steel-blue—sharp and analytical—sweeping across the hall in a single quick but comprehensive glance, like a commander inspecting his soldiers before battle.
His features were aristocratic and sharp, his expression serious enough to make him appear older than his teenage years. He radiated an aura of calm confidence and natural authority.
Leonard Leo von Falkenhayn.
The name surfaced in my mind instantly, my thoughts retrieving the information from Vanguard Academy Chronicles.
Heir to the military House of von Falkenhayn.
A brilliant strategic mind who would often make the right decisions to save the situation…
Usually after half his team had already died because of the hero's recklessness or someone else's stupidity.
He remained steady and rigid like a wooden plank—but the kind sturdy enough to build a fortress with.
An interesting main character.
Beside him walked a breathtakingly beautiful girl, but in a completely different way from Serena Valerian.
If Serena was the calm and powerful moon, then this girl was more like a blazing star—drawing every gaze toward her without the slightest effort.
Her jet-black hair was long and silky, cascading over her shoulders like a starless night, creating a striking contrast with her flawless pale skin.
Her almond-shaped eyes shone with a vivid emerald-green brilliance, sparkling with sharp intelligence, playful amusement… and perhaps a hint of mischief.
She moved with the grace and confidence of an elegant cat, a small self-assured smile resting on her lips.
Isabella "Izzy" de Luna.
My narrative memory recognized her immediately.
The heiress of the wealthy De Luna family, whose influence stretched like an octopus across every corner of the United Earth Alliance.
An elegant sorceress who used her illusions with dazzling mastery—often to hide the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to do in truly difficult situations.
Or simply to amuse herself at other people's expense.
She still looked like someone who had just stepped out of a fashion magazine for aristocrats who fought monsters in their spare time.
Another main character.
The third person, walking quietly behind them with nearly unnoticeable steps, was the strangest—and perhaps the most unsettling of them all.
His appearance was deliberately ordinary, as if he were trying his hardest not to attract attention.
Dark hair—perhaps deep brown or black—fell over part of his face, almost covering one eye. The part of his face I could see was pale and expressionless.
His eyes—or rather, the single eye I could clearly see—were a deep dark gray, calm and unfathomable, like someone observing everything while revealing nothing.
He wore simple dark clothes and seemed to prefer blending into the shadows whenever possible.
Kai "Kel" Morgenstern.
The name whispered through my thoughts.
The silent enigma whose origins no one knew… nor his true motives.
Well, that was the background he appeared to have at first.
In the novel, he would appear at just the right moments, say something profound, cryptic, and full of implications—
Then disappear as if he had never been there at all.
His ability had always been a mystery as well—at least in the beginning. It wouldn't be revealed until much later in the story. But when it finally was, it proved terrifyingly effective at altering the course of events in completely unexpected ways.
What brilliant character design…
A heavy silence filled the hall as the "additional golden trio" made their way toward the front of the room. Three empty seats seemed to be waiting for them, as if they had been reserved from the very beginning.
None of them looked at the other students.
They walked calmly and sat down, each radiating a different aura—power, influence, or quiet mystery.
Great…
All the main characters had now arrived on stage.
As if Class Alpha wasn't already crowded enough with geniuses, supposed heroes, and potential lunatics.
This was starting to look like a teenage version of the Avengers—except everyone probably had severe family issues.
I noticed that even Ethan Riddle, our ever-confident protagonist, seemed to lose a bit of his usual shine while looking at the newcomers—especially at Leo von Falkenhayn.
Maybe he sensed real competition for the title of future leader.
Or perhaps for the most handsome guy in the class.
Or maybe he was simply happy to see potential new allies.
At that moment, the instructor responsible for the morning lecture entered the hall.
He was somewhat elderly, with messy white hair and half-moon glasses, and he looked like someone who had spent most of his life buried among ancient books and hadn't seen sunlight in decades.
He paused briefly when he noticed the new students, then nodded slightly—as if interruptions from the upper elite were something he was already used to.
"Welcome," he said in a calm voice that sounded like the rustling of leaves. "It seems we have some new faces today."
Then he continued.
"Please welcome students Leonard von Falkenhayn, Isabella de Luna, and Kai Morgenstern to Class Alpha. Due to certain administrative arrangements, they were unable to join us yesterday."
A brief explanation for their late arrival.
"I hope you will all be able to work together," he added with a quiet smile.
Another comforting thought, I mused while observing this explosive mixture of powerful, ambitious, and potentially insane personalities.
This Class Alpha was already a powder keg, just waiting for the right spark to explode.
After the "warm" welcome to the newcomers—which added even more fascinating (and possibly troublesome) personalities to this circus known as Class Alpha—the elderly teacher introduced himself.
"Professor Eldritch."
The name sounded like it had come straight out of one of those gothic novels filled with dark secrets.
Then he began the morning lecture.
It wasn't about the cheerful safety protocols we had heard from Professor Venn.
Nor about the bloody history of the Gates—something I probably knew better than most of the students here.
No.
Professor Eldritch had decided to start our day with a healthy dose of idealistic philosophy—the kind that had absolutely no place in a world trying very hard to eat you alive.
"Today, young and promising minds—who we hope will remain that way for some time," Professor Eldritch began in his calm, autumn-leaf voice, his aged eyes glimmering strangely behind his half-moon glasses.
"We will explore a concept that some of you may consider secondary amid your harsh training and preparations to face… the unknown."
He paused briefly for dramatic effect before continuing.
"We will discuss the ethics of exploration."
I stopped absentmindedly sketching Arabic geometric patterns on my tablet and raised my head slightly.
The ethics of exploration?
Was this old man serious?
We were here to learn how not to die, and he wanted to talk about ethics?
Were there specific ethical guidelines one should follow while trying not to be eaten by an entity whose entire existence revolved around devouring humans?
"Some of you may wonder," Professor Eldritch continued, as if he had somehow read my thoughts—or everyone else's—
"what importance ethics could possibly have in such a harsh world, where survival is the ultimate goal."
He paused again.
"I tell you—it is the most important thing."
Slowly, he began explaining his reasoning.
"It is what distinguishes a true explorer from a mere mercenary… or a bloodthirsty monster."
Ah… here we go, I thought, leaning back in the suspiciously comfortable chair.
A lecture about virtue, honor, and heroism.
Exactly what a teenager with terrible stats—and an EX skill for narrative analysis—needed.
"First and foremost," Professor Eldritch said, his voice suddenly gaining unexpected strength and gravity,
"your primary responsibility is toward the lives of the innocent."
"Your fundamental mission as explorers—as members of Vanguard Academy, and as part of the United Earth Alliance—is to protect humanity."
Their duty was to protect civilians from the horrors that leaked out of the Gates.
"That means," Professor Eldritch continued calmly, "that sometimes you must be willing to place your own lives at risk in order to save others. That is the essence of being an Ansel."
I caught a glimpse of Ethan Riddle nodding enthusiastically, his eyes shining with that naive sparkle so common among heroic characters in cheap novels.
Of course.
The noble hero would eat this kind of speech with a spoon and ask for seconds.
He'd probably start giving inspiring speeches about self-sacrifice right after this lecture.
"Second," Professor Eldritch continued.
"Your responsibility toward your teammates. Trust, cooperation, and mutual sacrifice are the foundation of any successful team."
"In the chaos of a Gate, your teammate is your final line of defense—and you are theirs."
His gaze sharpened.
"Abandoning a companion in distress is not only a grave tactical error… it is a betrayal of the trust and principles upon which this academy was built."
I wonder if Drake Mallory is taking notes on this part, I thought dryly, glancing briefly toward our resident Prince of Darkness.
He was still staring out the window with an expression suggesting he would rather watch paint dry than listen to these noble principles.
More likely he was thinking about how to exploit mutual trust the first chance he got.
"Third—and this is a point often overlooked," Professor Eldritch said, his tone becoming more thoughtful, "your responsibility toward the stories themselves… and the entities that inhabit them."
For a moment, I felt something inside me freeze.
Responsibility toward the stories?
What the hell did that even mean?
Was I supposed to apologize to a monster before exploiting a narrative loophole to kill it?
"I realize this may sound strange to some of you," the professor continued, sensing the confusion spreading through the room.
"Yes, we fight these entities. Yes, we strive to close these Gates."
"But you must remember that many of these 'stories' are manifestations of ancient myths, collective fears… or even dimensions with their own internal logic, however different that logic may be from our own."
He continued when he sensed the class listening more carefully now.
"Understanding—even partially—the motives of these entities, or the nature of the narrative that governs them, can be the key not only to survival… but to ending the conflict with the least possible loss."
"And perhaps, in very rare cases, to finding solutions beyond simple killing and destruction."
The motives of entities?
Well… most of the entities I had read about in the Vanguard Academy Chronicles had fairly simple motivations.
There were complex narrative-driven ones, sure.
But there were also the classic types:
"I'm hungry and you look delicious."
or
"I'm evil and I enjoy your suffering."
Not exactly the kind of stories that offered much philosophical depth.
"That does not mean you should hesitate to defend yourselves—or others," Professor Eldritch added quickly, as if sensing the silent sarcasm forming in our thoughts.
"But it does mean you should seek knowledge. Seek understanding."
"Ask why, not only how to kill."
"A true explorer is not merely a fighter."
"He is also a scholar… an archaeologist of forgotten narratives… and sometimes even a diplomat facing the unknown."
He paused, as if contemplating the weight of his own words.
A diplomat facing the unknown?
Was he suggesting we negotiate with the things that wanted to eat our livers?
"Excuse me, Mr. Incomprehensible Entity, would you care to discuss the terms of your surrender over a cup of soul-free tea?"
Then it seemed Professor Eldritch decided to move from philosophical theory to practical torture.
"And now," he said, "to make this more interactive—and to see how these principles might manifest in real situations—I will present you with an ethical scenario."
"I would like to hear your honest and thoughtful opinions."
Damn it.
My stomach tightened.
I hated participation.
I hated questions.
And I especially hated questions that had no correct answer—particularly when your life, or at least your dignity, might be on the line.
"Imagine," Professor Eldritch began, his calm voice flowing through the hall like oil across water, "that you are inside a Rank-C Gate."
"Your team consists of five members."
"You encounter an unexpectedly powerful entity."
"One of your teammates—let us say the scout positioned at the front—has been severely injured."
His voice rose slightly.
"He is bleeding heavily and can barely move."
"Keeping him with you significantly slows the team's progress and increases the risk that your group will be surrounded… or that your resources will be depleted before reaching the Gate's exit or completing the story."
Then he laid out the dilemma.
"Leaving this teammate behind means he will certainly die—and likely in a terrible way."
"But taking him with you, attempting to protect and treat him…"
"…places the entire team at risk of near-certain death, or catastrophic mission failure."
"And such a failure could have severe consequences for the outside world… especially if the Gate in question is particularly dangerous."
The classroom fell silent.
Professor Eldritch looked at us calmly.
"In this situation," he said slowly,
"what would you do?"
Professor Eldritch paused and looked at us with eyes that carried unmistakable wisdom.
"What," he asked calmly, "is the ethical decision in such a situation? And what factors would you consider when making your choice?"
He gestured lightly toward the class.
"Go ahead. Do not be shy. There are no completely wrong answers here…"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"…only answers that may lead to your survival—or your death."
A stunned silence spread through the hall.
This wasn't just a theoretical exercise.
It was the harsh reality they might face any day.
---
Isabella de Luna raised her hand with effortless elegance, as if she were asking for another glass of champagne at a high-class gala.
"Professor Eldritch," she said, her confident voice ringing like crystal, "I believe the decision in such a situation must be pragmatic."
"If the probability of the entire team surviving while carrying the injured teammate is extremely low… and leaving that teammate behind significantly increases the chances of the other four surviving and completing the mission…"
She paused slightly.
"Then sacrificing one person to save the majority may be the most logical option."
Her charming smile softened the statement—though it did nothing to hide the cold sharpness of her reasoning.
Logical.
Cold as ice.
Exactly what I expected from the heir of the De Luna family, whose empire had been built on difficult decisions and merciless bargains.
---
Ethan Riddle raised his hand enthusiastically—so enthusiastically that he nearly jumped out of his seat.
"With all due respect, Professor—and with all due respect to Miss de Luna's opinion—we can never leave a teammate behind to die alone!" he declared passionately.
His heroic fervor was almost enough to make me nauseous.
"There must always be another way! We should use everything we have—our skills, our strength—to protect him and bring him back with us!"
"Maybe we could create a diversion for the enemy, or use our defensive abilities to cover the retreat, or take turns carrying him!"
He slammed his hand lightly on the desk.
"Abandoning a comrade on the battlefield is never an ethical option. It is not what Vanguard Academy stands for."
Ah.
The perfect hero.
Overflowing with naive idealism that would one day get him killed…
—or worse, get everyone around him killed.
I resisted the powerful urge to roll my eyes so far back they disappeared into my skull.
I wondered how many times he would repeat that heroic slogan before he was forced to leave someone behind to save the others.
Or to save his own precious skin.
---
Drake Mallory spoke next.
He didn't raise his hand.
He didn't even look at the professor.
His voice was quiet and cold, like the hiss of a snake.
"The injured teammate is a weakness. A burden."
"If his survival threatens the mission or the lives of the majority capable of fighting, then eliminating him—or leaving him behind—is the most efficient and realistic option."
He briefly glanced toward Ethan.
"Sentimental heroics have no place on a real battlefield."
"Only the strong survive."
Direct.
Brutal.
Without even the smallest attempt at politeness.
Not surprising.
At least he was honest about his Machiavellian nature.
---
Professor Eldritch continued selecting students one by one.
Eventually his gaze settled on the new arrival.
"And what about you, Mr. von Falkenhayn?"
Leonard von Falkenhayn spoke calmly, like a disciplined officer delivering a field report.
"This situation must be evaluated based on multiple variable factors."
His voice was steady and precise.
"The nature and severity of the injury.
The medical and logistical resources available to the team.
The time remaining to complete the mission or exit the Gate.
The strategic importance of the mission itself.
And the remaining operational capabilities of the team without the injured member."
He paused briefly, as if calculating something.
"The decision must be tactical and data-driven, based on the highest probability of achieving overall mission success while minimizing total losses—while also considering the operational value of each team member."
Analytical.
Coldly logical.
Like a supercomputer planning a chess match rather than deciding the fate of someone bleeding to death.
Did everyone in his family think like that?
---
Serena Valerian spoke next, after a brief moment of thought.
"I agree with the need for a comprehensive evaluation of the factors mentioned by Mr. von Falkenhayn."
A faint light flickered in her eyes.
"But we must also consider the psychological and moral impact on the team if a decision is made to abandon one of its members."
"Trust, cohesion, and morale are critical factors for long-term survival when facing repeated horrors."
She folded her hands calmly.
"A decision that saves us today may destroy us tomorrow if we lose faith in one another."
A good point.
Practical and intelligent, as usual.
She was the only one thinking about what happens after the decision.
---
Even Kai "Kel" Morgenstern, who had remained silent throughout the lecture—almost blending into the shadows of the room—finally spoke.
His voice was soft and barely audible.
He didn't even lift his eyes from his notebook.
"Sometimes… sacrificing one person is the only way for the others to live."
A brief pause.
"And sometimes…"
"…the person who seems like a burden…"
His gray eye flickered faintly.
"…is the key that opens the door to survival."
He finally lifted his head and looked at the professor.
"Fate is woven with complicated threads… and appearances are often deceptive."
Then he fell silent again, leaving everyone wondering about the meaning of his cryptic words—something that sounded like a prophecy from a mad priest.
Deep and mysterious, as usual.
Was he some kind of philosophical prodigy hiding among ordinary students… or just someone who enjoyed sounding intelligent and enigmatic to impress girls?
I sincerely hoped it was the second option.
With every fiber of my being, I hoped Professor Eldritch would simply ignore me—that I would survive this enlightening but utterly pointless "ethical" debate.
I tried to make myself as small and invisible as possible, like some insignificant insect not worth noticing.
But of course, fate—that sarcastic bastard—had other plans.
And, as usual, those plans were not in my favor.
"And what about you, Mr. Lister?"
Professor Eldritch suddenly turned toward me. His old eyes glimmered with irritating curiosity behind his round glasses.
"We have not yet heard your opinion on this complex ethical dilemma."
"What would be your ethical decision in this hypothetical situation?"
Damn. Damn. Damn it all.
Every eye in the classroom—every teenage face full of confidence, fear, or arrogance—turned toward me.
Heat rushed to my face as if someone had pointed a welding torch at it.
Why me?
Was there something written on my forehead?
"Ask me the impossible question no one knows how to answer."
I opened my mouth.
Then closed it again.
The words fled from me like terrified rats escaping a sinking ship.
What exactly was I supposed to say?
The bitter truth?
That I would analyze the situation using an EX skill no one else knew about, check whether the "injured teammate" had any importance to the original storyline of the novel I remembered, and then decide based on whether his death would change the narrative I already knew?
Or that I would only try to save him if my own chances of survival weren't negatively affected…
—or if he had something valuable I could conveniently inherit after his death?
"I think…" I finally began, my voice hesitant and dry, as if it were echoing up from an abandoned well.
"…that it would depend heavily on whether the injured teammate owed me money or not."
Silence.
A stunned, heavy silence filled the hall.
The kind of silence you could cut with a rusty butcher's knife.
Then—
A few students burst into suppressed laughter, desperately trying to hide it behind their hands.
I saw Ethan Riddle staring at me in disbelief, his mouth slightly open as if he had just witnessed a demon dancing the Macarena.
Drake Mallory wore a crooked smirk full of contempt.
Serena Valerian raised one eyebrow in mild surprise, her gaze studying me as if trying to determine whether I was serious—or simply a fool.
Even the new arrivals seemed taken aback.
Leo von Falkenhayn frowned slightly.
Isabella de Luna let out a soft laugh that sounded like chiming bells.
And Kai Morgenstern…
Well, Kai didn't change his expression at all.
But I had the strange feeling that his gaze had become more focused on me.
Well done, Adam, I thought bitterly.
You've successfully made yourself look like a greedy, insensitive idiot… possibly a slightly unhinged one too.
Congratulations.
Your reputation at this academy had now been firmly established—
the official class clown of Alpha Class.
---
"An… unexpectedly interesting answer, Mr. Lister," Professor Eldritch said at last.
He seemed to be trying very hard not to smile.
"Though for your own safety—and for the safety of your teammates—I sincerely hope that your motivations in real situations are somewhat more… noble."
"Or at the very least, more logical."
Don't bet on it, Professor, I thought with a bitter internal smile.
Nobility wasn't exactly a skill listed in my very modest status window.
The only logic I truly believed in was the logic of survival—
even if that meant becoming the biggest bastard in this cursed world.
---
The lecture—more accurately, the collective philosophical torture session—continued for a while longer.
More complicated "ethical scenarios" followed, each one making me want to scream, fall asleep, or both at the same time.
After my brilliant comment, I did my best to remain as invisible as possible.
I simply listened while the other members of the "elite" competed with their conflicting opinions.
Class Alpha is going to be a real hell.
There was no doubt about that.
I watched this diverse collection of powerful, ambitious, and contradictory personalities.
Naive idealism that made you want to cry.
Selfish ambition that made you want to vomit.
Strange mystery that made you want to run away.
And calculated coldness that made you feel like you were talking to a robot.
Yes.
I absolutely could not wait to see how we would all work together as a perfectly harmonious team to save the world from the coming horrors.
Or more likely…
how we would end up destroying each other first—
and spare the monsters the trouble.