The morning sun filtered through the wide glass panels of the F-Class Superhero Academy Hall, casting long, slanted beams across the white-tiled floor. Each panel shimmered faintly with faint runes—etched wards designed to absorb stray blasts or the occasional outburst of uncontrolled power from the rookie superheroes.
The city's main tower was visible through the upper levels, a distant spire cloaked in soft cloud, but all attention today was focused on the arrival of a single student who'd quietly entered through the side entrance with his hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, golden-blond hair shining beneath the light like it had been kissed by celestial fire.
Elius didn't care about making an entrance. He didn't need it. It simply happened wherever he went.
The F-Class, unlike the lower-rank branches, was less about brute-force training and more about strategy, adaptability, leadership, and control.
