Two hours passed in a blink and the class ended.

Sylvester turned back to the students with a calm smile.

"That will be all for today," he said.

Azrael stood up from his seat slowly.

"That was kind of fun," he muttered beneath his breath.

"Hi," Azrael heard from beside him.

He raised his head from the desk he had been looking at.

"Hi," he replied, his tone neutral, betraying no emotion.

It was the same person who had smiled at him while he was in Abaddon’s office.

"My name is Zephyr," he said, stretching his palm toward Azrael.

Azrael looked at the hand for a moment before sighing.

"Azrael."

He shook Zephyr’s hand calmly.

Zephyr smiled lightly. "I know your name, obviously."

"Just confirming," Azrael replied, turning toward the other door at the far end of the classroom.

It was the door to the next classroom.

"Let’s walk together," Zephyr said, tracing Azrael’s gaze.

Azrael nodded.

They began taking gentle strides toward the next class.

The other five students were already ahead of them by a few paces. The difference, however, was that none of them walked together. They moved separately.

Soon, they pushed through the door.

The new classroom was nothing like the previous one.

There were no chairs, no organized layout, none of the calm atmosphere from before.

The place looked like a jungle, trees shooting up as far as the eyes could follow.

There seemed to be no ceiling.

’How is this place so tall when the roof on the outside looked short?’ Azrael wondered. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

He did not think much about it though. Since arriving in this world, his mind had grown accustomed to such things.

"Welcome to movement training class," the voice came from behind them, soft and calm.

Instinctively, everyone turned back.

Nothing.

"I am your teacher, Yvonne."

This time, it came from above.

They looked to the sky.

It was empty.

"Now, you are to make it to the end of this jungle within the time limit."

They faced forward.

She was not there either.

A timer appeared in the sky above.

[29:59]

"And before you ask, you are not allowed to use essence or skills."

The voice came from their side again.

They turned and found nothing.

"Good luck."

This time it came from all sides at once.

Nobody turned.

The timer began to tick.

"Meet you at the finish line," Zephyr said to Azrael before he shot off.

The rest of the students moved at the same time, lunging forward before Zephyr could pull far ahead.

Azrael could not catch their speed clearly.

After all, he was only at tier one while they were already at tier two.

But he did not care.

He tore forward, his speed pushed to its maximum.

The floor beneath him caved in, the earth cracking from his sudden burst.

"Wow, I have become so fast," he muttered as he streaked through the trees.

A whistle.

It came without warning and without mercy.

Azrael’s eyes caught it, but his body almost failed to follow.

Almost.

His body twisted at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding the arrow.

Azrael’s eyes trailed it as it shot past.

"What the hell?" He blurted out in shock.

But he did not have time to think about it.

A boulder had begun to fall from the sky, its surface blazing from the force of its descent.

Azrael did not waste time. He dashed forward, continuing his push toward the finish line.

The floor he had just left exploded into piles of stone, the earth splitting from the impact.

Spikes began to shoot out of the ground at close intervals, each one missing Azrael’s feet by the breadth of a hair.

His gaze narrowed as he looked ahead.

It was an endless chasm, stretching as far as his eyes could reach.

But something was not quite right.

Trees floated above the massive trench.

Azrael did not hesitate.

He leapt to the trunk of one tree, then used it as momentum to push himself up into the branch of another.

Creak.

The branch cracked.

Azrael jumped to the next tree instantly, watching the branch he had stood on moments ago fall into the endless pit.

He wiped a non existent sweat from his forehead.

A mistake.

As if that were a trigger, an arrow shot from behind, its tip gleaming with a red sheen.

Azrael somersaulted over it, his body twisting mid air.

Time seemed to slow as the arrow passed beneath him.

Another sound tore from the sky as a second arrow lunged straight toward Azrael’s neck.

"That is one point deducted from your mark," he heard the voice, cold and direct.

His hand moved toward his neck but he did not have the luxury of time.

The tree beneath him began to plummet.

Azrael jumped to the next one with a tap.

He did not wait.

He had learned his lesson.

Or so he thought.

The tree he landed on vanished in a puff of smoke.

Azrael’s eyes widened as his body dropped into empty air.

"Shit."

"That is three points."

Before Azrael could react to those words, he was already standing on another tree.

Azrael’s mind replayed what had just happened as he continued leaping from tree to tree.

This time, however, he did not rest his full weight on any branch.

He had not felt anyone’s touch, yet somehow the mysterious teacher had placed him on the next tree.

"That should be the finish line," he muttered, looking at the others who lay sprawled across the ground ahead.

"Huff!"

"You are all here within the time limit," the mysterious voice said again, but no one bothered to look for its source this time.

They already knew better.

"You lost seventeen marks."

The voice came again, but this time there was a difference.

A finger pressed hard against one student’s forehead.

The student raised his head slowly, and there she stood.

A woman who stood at over six feet, red hair cascading down her back, with short crimson horns.