"Ha… finally, we meet again, cockroach. My fists have been missing you."
"This is going to be fun."
Hidden behind the school building, far from the eyes of teachers and ordinary students, there existed a secluded corner known only to certain people within the school. The narrow space was surrounded by old concrete walls stained by time, while piles of unused equipment and rusted pipes lay scattered carelessly nearby. The faint smell of cigarettes lingered heavily in the damp afternoon air.
Four students stood there.
Among them, one boy looked painfully out of place.
His body was smaller than the others surrounding him, his tired eyes dull and lifeless beneath messy black hair that looked as though it had not been properly cared for in days. His uniform was wrinkled and untidy, hanging awkwardly from his thin frame. Nothing about his appearance drew admiration. If anything, people instinctively looked away from him.
His name was Julian.
He was one of the most well known students in the school, though not for any good reason. Julian was famous as little more than a toy for the amusement of others, a target people could mock, hit, and humiliate without consequence.
Two students tightly restrained both of his arms while another stood directly in front of him.
Ace.
Tall and broad shouldered, Ace looked down at Julian with unconcealed contempt while casually rotating his right arm as though warming up before a match.
"Come on, Ace," one of the boys holding Julian laughed. "Give him the usual treatment."
Hearing that, Ace's grin widened.
His teeth were yellowed from nicotine, and the foul scent of tobacco escaped with every breath he took. Slowly, he stepped closer until he stood directly in front of Julian.
Then he spoke.
"Try not to cry."
The moment those words left his mouth, his right fist shot forward like a bullet.
The jab was terrifyingly fast.
A violent impact slammed directly into Julian's stomach.
Pain exploded instantly throughout his entire body.
The air was ripped from his lungs as nausea surged violently up his throat. His vision blurred, and his knees lost all strength beneath him. A strangled gasp escaped his mouth before his body collapsed helplessly onto the dirty ground.
"Oii, oii, oii…" Ace muttered with a disappointed click of his tongue. "That was only one punch. Get up already."
The others burst into laughter.
Julian's body trembled weakly against the cold ground as he struggled to breathe. The pain in his stomach felt unbearable, as though Ace's fist had torn straight through his insides. Dirt clung to his palms while strands of messy hair fell across his half closed eyes.
Yet the others showed no intention of stopping.
One of the boys holding him earlier suddenly stepped forward and drove the tip of his shoe into Julian's side.
"Don't just lay there like a corpse," he scoffed.
The kick forced a pained groan from Julian's mouth.
Laughter echoed through the narrow space behind the school.
Ace cracked his neck lazily before crouching slightly beside Julian, staring down at him with amusement dancing in his eyes. To him, Julian looked less like a person and more like some broken animal twitching helplessly in the dirt.
"You know," Ace said casually, "I almost respect you at this point. Most people would've transferred schools already."
Another kick struck Julian's ribs.
Sharp pain spread instantly through his body.
Julian instinctively curled inward, trying desperately to protect his stomach and face, but the movement only entertained them further.
"Oho? He's guarding himself now."
"Looks like the cockroach still wants to survive."
The insults blended together with the laughter surrounding him.
Someone grabbed his hair roughly and forced his head upward before shoving him back down again. A shoe pressed briefly against the back of his shoulder while another kick landed against his thigh hard enough to make his entire body twitch.
The world spun violently around him.
His ears rang.
Every breath burned painfully inside his chest.
The hidden area behind the school remained isolated from the rest of the school, protected by silence and indifference. Even if someone heard the noise, most students would simply pretend otherwise. Interfering with Ace and his group was equivalent to inviting destruction upon oneself.
So Julian endured.
Just as he always did.
Eventually, even violence grew boring.
Ace let out a tired sigh before straightening his uniform casually. "Man, this feels less satisfying lately."
"Maybe he's finally getting used to it," one of the others laughed.
"That's disgusting."
Ace gave Julian one final shove with his foot, causing his exhausted body to roll slightly across the dirty ground.
Then suddenly, the loud ringing of the school bell echoed across the school
The sound cut cleanly through the air.
For a brief moment, the boys clicked their tongues in annoyance.
"Damn. Class already?"
Ace glanced toward the school building before running a hand through his hair carelessly. "Whatever. Let's go."
One of the boys leaned down briefly near Julian and smirked. "Try not to die before lunch break, okay?"
More laughter followed.
Then, just like that, they walked away.
Their footsteps gradually disappeared into the distance while their laughter echoed faintly through the empty corridor nearby.
Silence returned once more.
Julian remained lying motionless on the ground, his body aching so badly that even breathing felt difficult now. His uniform was stained with dirt, and the metallic taste of blood lingered heavily inside his mouth.
The clear blue morning sky stretched endlessly above him.
Julian quietly staring upward as the gentle breeze brushed softly against his bruised face. Compared to the violence from moments ago, the atmosphere now felt strangely peaceful. The distant chirping of birds drifted faintly through the air while sunlight poured warmly over the empty space behind the school.
For a brief moment, the world almost felt calm.
"Well… at least I survived."
His voice came out weak and hoarse.
The school uniform that had once been clean and new was now stained with dust and dirt. Class had not even properly begun yet, and he already looked like someone who had crawled through a battlefield.
"I also need to get to class…"
"Ugh…"
The moment Julian tried forcing himself upright, a violent pain twisted through his stomach again, as though something inside him were being wrung apart mercilessly.
He gritted his teeth.
"Hang in there, Julian," he muttered quietly to himself. "This is nothing. Just remember your dream. There are only a few months left until graduation."
Slowly, he forced himself onto his feet.
Ignoring the pain spreading throughout his body, Julian began walking toward the school building with uneven steps, one leg dragging slightly behind the other. Every movement sent sharp aches through his ribs and stomach, yet he continued forward without stopping.
The areas surrounding the school and the long hallways that were usually crowded with students had already become mostly empty now that classes had begun. Sunlight streamed quietly through the tall corridor windows, illuminating the polished floors with soft golden reflections.
Most students probably carried beautiful memories within these hallways.
Laughter with friends.
Confessions after school.
Moments of youth they would one day miss.
But for Julian, every corner of the school carried different memories.
Each hallway he passed reminded him of something painful. Every staircase, empty classroom, and narrow corridor held fragments of humiliation carved deeply into his mind, memories left behind by the countless cruelties other students had inflicted upon him over the years.
They clung to him like scars that would never disappear.
'Only a few more months until graduation…'
Julian lowered his gaze slightly as he continued limping forward.
'I just need to endure until then.'
After several long minutes, he finally arrived in front of his classroom.
Laughter echoed from inside.
Students chatted noisily with one another while chairs scraped occasionally against the floor. The classroom sounded lively and full of energy, like any ordinary high school classroom in the morning.
Julian quietly slid the door open.
The first thing he noticed was that the teacher had not arrived yet.
The second thing he saw was his seat.
Or rather, what remained of it.
His books had been torn apart carelessly, pages scattered across the floor like trash. His desk had completely disappeared, leaving behind only a lonely chair standing awkwardly near the back of the classroom.
For a brief moment, Julian stood there silently.
Then his eyes slowly shifted toward Ace and his group.
The three boys were already staring directly at him from across the classroom, laughing openly as they enjoyed the expression on Julian's face.
'Ace… you bastard.'
. For a moment, Julian simply stood there in silence.
The laughter from Ace's group echoed faintly across the classroom, blending together with the carefree conversations of the other students. Several people glanced briefly toward the mess surrounding Julian's seat before immediately losing interest. Some returned to chatting with friends. Others continued scrolling through their phones as though nothing unusual had happened at all.
Nobody stepped forward to help him.
Nobody questioned who had done it.
Because everyone already knew.
And because nobody wanted trouble.
Julian lowered his gaze quietly.
Then, without saying a single word, he slowly walked toward the back of the classroom.
His limp had become slightly worse after the beating behind the school, causing each step to feel painfully heavy. Yet he ignored the dull ache spreading through his body and crouched beside the scattered remains of his belongings.
Torn pages.
Dust covered notebooks.
His fingers moved silently as he gathered the pieces one by one from the floor.
The classroom around him remained lively and bright beneath the morning sunlight pouring through the windows, but Julian felt completely detached from it all, as though an invisible wall separated him from everyone else inside the room.
A classroom was a strange place.
People born into entirely different worlds were forced beneath the same roof and told to coexist peacefully. The rich and the desperately poor sat side by side wearing identical uniforms, creating the illusion of equality. To outsiders, it probably looked beautiful. A miniature paradise where status disappeared behind shared lessons and youthful laughter.
But that illusion existed only on the surface.
Hidden beneath the warmth of the classroom was another reality entirely.
A far darker one.
When people born beneath skies as distant as heaven and earth were gathered together, peace was never truly possible. Hierarchies formed naturally, as inevitable as shadows stretching beneath sunlight.
At the very top stood those blessed with power.
Students born into wealthy families whose influence extended far beyond the school walls. Children of politicians, businessmen, celebrities, and famous figures whose names alone commanded attention. Then there were the prodigies praised endlessly by teachers, along with the handsome boys and beautiful girls who effortlessly became the center of admiration simply because of how they looked.
They were the nobles of the classroom.
Untouchable.
Adored.
People moved around them carefully as though orbiting around miniature kings and queens seated upon invisible thrones built from status, talent, wealth, and beauty.
Beneath them existed the middle hierarchy.
A gray layer trapped between fear and ambition.
These students came from ordinary families. They were neither rich nor poor, neither exceptional nor worthless. Yet even among them, there existed two distinct kinds of people.
The first were parasites.
Those who desperately clung to the powerful above them, flattering and obeying the nobles in hopes of being accepted into their circles. Some sought status. Others simply wanted to enjoy the scraps of privilege and protection that fell from above.
The second were actors.
People who cared only about preserving themselves. They pretended not to see cruelty happening before their eyes, terrified that interfering would drag them downward as well. They offered empty sympathy while bowing obediently toward those in power. Every smile they wore was carefully rehearsed.
Everything for survival.
And then, beneath all of them, existed the very bottom.
The lowest layer within the hierarchy.
The poor.
The unattractive.
The invisible people with no talent worth praising, no family influence worth mentioning, and no charm capable of drawing attention. They existed like nameless extras wandering silently through the background of someone else's story while others stood proudly beneath the spotlight.
Nobody admired them.
Nobody remembered them.
Their existence held so little value that they became nothing more than stepping stones beneath the feet of others.
And within this classroom, Julian stood entirely alone at the bottom of that hierarchy.
The one and only slave.
While Julian was still quietly cleaning up the remains of his seat, the classroom door suddenly slid open once more.
The noise inside the room softened almost immediately.
A woman stepped gracefully into the classroom, the sharp sound of her heels tapping lightly against the floor. Her long black hair flowed neatly behind her shoulders, and the fitted outfit she wore accentuated her mature figure effortlessly. Black stockings wrapped around her slender legs, giving her an appearance both elegant and intimidating at the same time.
She was their homeroom teacher.
The moment she entered, several male students instinctively straightened their posture while others hurriedly hid their phones beneath their desks. Even Ace and his group toned down their laughter slightly.
Her sharp eyes slowly swept across the classroom.
Then her gaze stopped briefly at the back.
At Julian.
For a fleeting moment, she observed the scattered remains of his torn books, the missing desk, and Julian himself crouched quietly on the floor gathering ruined pages with bruised hands.
The classroom fell silent.
A strange tension spread through the room as students subtly exchanged glances with one another.
For the first time that morning, curiosity appeared in their eyes.
Would she ask what happened?
Would she finally scold Ace and his group?
Would an adult, even once, stand on Julian's side?
But after only a brief second of silence, the teacher calmly looked away.
Not a single word left her mouth.
No concern.
No anger.
No sympathy.
It was as though Julian's condition simply did not matter enough to deserve her attention.
"Take your seats," she said indifferently while placing her books on the teacher's desk at the front of the classroom. "Class is starting."
That was all.
The moment the students realized she had no intention of involving herself, the tension inside the room vanished instantly. Quiet conversations slowly resumed, and several students even laughed softly in relief.
Across the classroom, Ace and his group smiled openly, amusement and satisfaction clear on their faces.
Meanwhile, Julian remained silent at the back of the room.
Slowly, he placed the final torn page onto his chair before lowering himself carefully into his seat, enduring the lingering pain spreading throughout his bruised body.
At this school, even the adults had already accepted the hierarchy.
At the front of the room, the homeroom teacher opened one of her books and adjusted her glasses slightly before speaking in a calm, practiced tone.
"Alright everyone, we will begin the morning lesson now."
Her voice carried the same lifeless professionalism she used every day.
She spoke briefly about upcoming exams, attendance, and school regulations, the usual meaningless formalities students rarely listened to seriously. Several people nodded absentmindedly while others quietly whispered to their friends the moment her attention shifted elsewhere.
Meanwhile, Julian remained silent at the very back of the classroom.
His bruised fingers rested weakly atop the damaged pages he had managed to gather. The dull ache spreading throughout his stomach still had not faded completely, but he endured it quietly as always.
Then the teacher turned toward the blackboard.
Picking up a piece of white chalk, she began writing several notes across the dark surface with smooth, familiar movements. The sharp scratching sound of chalk against the board echoed softly throughout the room.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Then suddenly, something strange happened.
One of the written lines trembled.
The teacher paused slightly.
A few students frowned in confusion.
The chalk markings began shifting slowly across the blackboard on their own, twisting unnaturally like living things crawling beneath the surface. Letters distorted into shapes no ordinary human language could form.
"What…?" someone near the front muttered quietly.
More symbols began appearing.
Complex patterns spread rapidly across the blackboard, glowing faintly beneath the white chalk as though something hidden underneath had awakened. Circles intertwined with unfamiliar runes while strange geometric markings expanded across the surface in impossible symmetry.
The classroom atmosphere changed instantly.
The air itself felt heavier.
Even the teacher stepped backward now, genuine confusion finally appearing across her face.
"Who did this?" she asked sharply.
Nobody answered.
The symbols continued moving.
Then light began pouring from them.
At first it was faint, almost beautiful, like pale moonlight leaking through cracks in the dark. But within seconds the glow intensified violently until the entire blackboard radiated blinding white brilliance.
Students immediately erupted into panic.
"What the hell is that?!"
"The board's glowing!"
"Is this some kind of prank?!"
Several students jumped from their seats while others stumbled backward in fear. Chairs crashed loudly against the floor as the strange symbols continued expanding across the board like an unstoppable infection.
Then the light exploded outward.
A massive wave of radiance burst from the blackboard and engulfed the classroom instantly.
Students screamed.
The walls vanished beneath the overwhelming brilliance. Desks, windows, ceiling, everything disappeared inside the flood of pure white light. Julian instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes, but the radiance swallowed him completely before he could react.
The last thing he heard was the terrified screaming of his classmates echoing endlessly around him.
Then even those sounds were consumed by silence.
For a brief terrifying moment, Julian felt as though his body were falling endlessly through empty space. Heat and cold intertwined around him while strange whispers echoed faintly within the darkness, voices speaking in languages he could not understand.
It was the voice of an elderly man, deep and aged, carrying the weight of countless years within every syllable. Though calm, it echoed powerfully through the darkness surrounding them, filled with reverence so profound that it almost sounded like prayer.
As if by some miracle, Julian suddenly found himself able to understand the voice perfectly, despite the language being completely unfamiliar only moments before. Then the elderly voice spoke once more.
"Praise the Goddess, the summoning of heroes from another world has succeeded."