Chapter 7: Hellish Gym Class (2)
Although I wasn’t publicly humiliated or singled out, the atmosphere was already beyond repair.
The kids who kept glancing at me and whispering were silenced by Instructor Georg’s stern commands, but the emotions behind their chatter weren’t so easily dismissed.
Beneath the predominant sense of confusion, there was an occasional tinge of hostility and blatant curiosity, enough to push me to the brink of panic.
Already nauseous, the thought of exercising in this state made my head spin. I was seriously worried I might throw up.
Regardless of my inner turmoil, the instructor carried on with the lesson.
“…Despite the earlier disturbance, I have a question for all of you. How many of you know how to use mana breathing techniques? Raise your hand if you do.”
A few students, both boys and girls, raised their hands. It wasn’t a large number—something I could count on two hands. The only notable thing was one particularly small girl raising her hand.
It wasn’t as many as I expected. Usually, in fantasy stories, mana breathing is so common that even bandit leaders use it. Seeing this was a bit surprising.
“Next question—how many of you can use offensive magic?”
Fewer hands went up this time—only about three. I found it strange how he specifically mentioned offensive magic. Did that mean healing or defensive magic wasn’t considered important?
Naturally, I didn’t raise my hand. Just being near mana made me feel like I was falling apart; there was no way I could wield it.
About half of the students didn’t raise their hands either. Did that mean half the students here were basically ordinary people?
“If you raised your hand for either, you don’t need to attend this class. If you can do even one of the two, you won’t need what I’m about to teach.”
At this sudden announcement, the previously quiet atmosphere became noisy. But the instructor’s next words quickly silenced everyone again.
“This class is for those who didn’t raise their hands. For those without exceptional strength. For those who cannot use magic to counter an enemy. This is education for the weak.”
Some of the students who had raised their hands left the gym immediately. About half of them, however, stayed, seemingly curious about the lesson.
Why aren’t they leaving? Maybe they just wanted to watch. Or maybe they felt like proving something.
“Staying, are you? Very well. But keep in mind—it might be boring for you. Now, I’ll ask again. Why do you think I’m teaching this class?”
The room fell silent. It seemed like plenty of students had opinions, but no one dared to speak.
At least the attention on me had finally waned, thanks to the instructor’s ability to command everyone’s focus.
I could finally breathe a little easier. For someone like me, even one person staring could make me feel like I’m suffocating. I silently thanked him.
If not for my father’s harsh lessons, I wouldn’t have been able to keep from panicking under all those stares.
If someone had talked to me earlier, I probably would’ve fainted on the spot.
But what’s the point of teaching gym? Isn’t it just an excuse to let kids play games or claim it’s for health, only for the class to turn into self-study by the second semester?
That’s how gyms worked in my world, at least. Some warm-ups, then everyone would split off to play soccer or basketball. The outcasts would huddle together, chatting about anime or games in the shade.
I was always alone, though. I won’t make excuses—I was just too scared to join any group.
After one disastrous attempt at joining a soccer game, even the teacher stopped pushing me to participate.
As for the outcasts’ group, I couldn’t fit in with them either. I was more into reading novels than watching anime or webtoons, and any interest I had in those things faded within a week.
Gym class was basically time for me to read under the sun. Did it even need a deeper purpose?
“To teach you how to survive,” Georg said, answering his own question. “So, to those who didn’t raise their hands earlier—what would you do if a band of thieves attacked right now?”
“I would fight them,” a confident-looking male student replied.
Georg’s gaze landed on him like a predator sizing up its prey. The boy flinched for a moment but didn’t back down.
“Do you have the strength to fight them?” Georg asked.
The student clenched his jaw and said nothing, his frustration evident.
“Courage without strength is recklessness. People preach about chivalry and standing your ground, but what can the weak possibly protect?”
The boy, clearly upset by being called weak, retorted, “But that’s—”
“Cowardly, you mean to say?” Georg cut him off. “Your name?”
“…Daniel.”
Daniel glared at Georg, his defiance clear. But the instructor scoffed, unimpressed, and pulled out a strange, black cube with a handle. It was far larger than the usual cubes I’d seen.
I didn’t know what it was for, but I could guess where he’d pulled it from.
An inventory. A convenient ability usually reserved for protagonists. Judging by the murmurs about spatial storage, I was probably right.
“Well then, Daniel. Try lifting this. If you can, I’ll acknowledge you as strong.”
It was clear this wasn’t an ordinary object, given that Georg had pulled it from a magical space. Still, Daniel stepped forward, determined.
Maybe he was riled up by the mention of chivalry? In this fantasy world, he might’ve been a noble dreaming of knighthood.
He approached Georg with grim determination, but the instructor looked down at him with a smirk.
“Lift it properly.”
The moment Daniel grabbed the cube, it slammed into the ground.
Judging by his expression and the way he had swaggered up earlier, this wasn’t intentional.
The cube had to be ridiculously heavy.
“Are you even trying, Daniel? Is this the extent of your resolve?”
Wow, harsh.
“N-No! I’m trying!” Daniel yelled, his face red as he strained to lift the cube. It was pitiful to watch as he abandoned all dignity, struggling in vain.
After wrestling with it for some time, Daniel finally gave up, releasing the handle and collapsing to his knees. Georg looked down at him, expressionless.
This was 100% rigged. That cube was clearly far too heavy for a normal student. What kind of academy was this? It felt more like a boot camp.
I just hoped it wouldn’t be the kind of place where failure meant the end.
“Next student.”
The others, who had been watching Daniel with a mix of pity and smugness, froze at Georg’s words. No one dared to speak, but their gazes betrayed their despair.
“What are you waiting for? You, the girl over there—step forward.”
The girl walked toward the cube like a prisoner headed for execution.
The onlookers were filled with two emotions: pity for her plight and resignation on their own.
She tried twisting and turning the cube, making strange noises as she strained, but it didn’t budge. No one laughed—everyone knew they’d be next.
None of the ordinary students managed to lift it. They all shouted, strained, and gave it their all, but the cube didn’t move an inch, as if mocking their efforts.
When it should’ve been my turn, Georg didn’t call on me. Instead, he began summoning the remaining students—those who had raised their hands earlier.
The students with mana breathing techniques did a little better. The first one even managed to lift the cube off the ground for about five seconds before dropping it with a loud thud.
Grumbles erupted from the ordinary students, but Georg ignored them entirely, as if they weren’t worth addressing.
“May I try it?” a voice called out.
A boy with golden hair and tanned skin—he practically screamed “golden sunshine”—raised his hand, a confident smile on his face. Despite the nickname I’d just given him, I couldn’t tell if he was an actual delinquent.
Wow, people like him really exist.
Golden Sunshine strode up, his smirk brimming with determination. Georg nodded, allowing him to proceed.
Unlike the others, Golden Sunshine managed to lift the cube higher—up to his knees—and held it there for several seconds before dropping it. The impact kicked up a cloud of dust.
Satisfied, he returned to his spot, looking smug. The remaining students managed to lift it off the ground, but none performed as well as Golden Sunshine.
All except for one petite girl, who failed entirely.
Despite using mana breathing, she struggled more than the average student.
Watching her try and fail, almost in tears, was uncomfortable.
Still, she had friends who comforted her. Even she wasn’t alone. A pang of defeat stung me as I watched.
Finally, Georg’s eyes settled on me. Without a word, he gestured.
You’re last.
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