Due to having a different third period class, Ena’s friend Yua parted with the duo. Greg internally admitted that it was a bit awkward walking to class with someone who probably knew nothing about the value of money, but at least it beat getting his ass blown up a dozen times by groups of seniors.

The third class took place in an enormous gym-like building, which made sense for a class called Magical Combat Training. Targets were hung in various spots. The placement, only for the ground, was the same for punching bags and eerie-looking dummies. Catching the young man’s attention, hovering on the ceiling above the instructors, was a giant rotating glowing orange sphere.

Greg and Ena found a decent spot on the bench as students poured into the facility.

The two instructors present at the center of the place stood by two large, closed trunks, eyes evaluating. One was a woman with dark coco skin, pointy ears, and purple eyes.

Is that eye color, normal here, Greg thought.

The ears only meant one thing. Someone of the elf race. Maybe. Despite what the fantasy books insisted, even Greg doubted pointy ears automatically meant someone was an elf; however, he’d still use it as a reference point. After all, fairies were actually real.

Weirdly enough, the man at her side, made the female instructor seem normal. He had what appeared to be wolf ears and a wolf tail and when he grinned at his coworker briefly, two fangs were present, blending in with the rest of his teeth.

A wolfman or some kind of open furry, professional environment be damned. None of the teachers acted…like pro teachers anyway.

“Good afternoon, first-years,” the wolfman said after everyone settled down. “Welcome to Magical and Martial arts combat training.” His words gained him a few questioning gazes. “Yes, they’re combined classes for obvious reasons, little meats. What good would it do if you didn’t learn these together? I’m your martial arts instructor, Ale Goodman. Just call me Goodman or I’ll bite your puny heads off—I mean, standing beside me is your Magical combat instructor…” He gestured at the elf.

“Professor Rebecca Luyu,” the elf…potentially dark elf said in a bored voice. “Call me Professor Luyu.” She pointed at the trunk on her left. “Everybody line up. Two columns, go.”

“That’s right,” Goodman said. “Training begins today, little meats.” He grinned, revealing quite the creepy display of sharp teeth.

“He can change the shape of his teeth,” Greg muttered in a deadpan. Then he regretted it, forgetting that the most important thing to remember about a goddamn wolf, other than their sense of smell, is their hearing. The professor looked in his general direction. Fortunately, with the clusterfuck of students present, the wolfman wasn’t able to specifically target him. At least he hoped.

Ena shook her head, but rather than commenting on his mistake, she said, “I guess we’re getting gear. They don’t waste time.”

“Do you think they’ll let us shoot fireballs?” Greg asked, excited. He imagined himself as Jet Li, downing his opponents in both combat and taking down the far-off annoyances with long-ranged magic. Then to finish off things, he’d summon a tidal wave made of lightning or death energy. Well, maybe not death energy, just in case. He had no doubts that some master wizard or Gandalf rip-off or even the Dean herself would restrain him instantly should he murder another student. Then again, with the way the staff and faculty seemed to not care about anything regarding student safety, maybe he’d not rot in a magical prison after all. Going home be damned.

Inside the first trunk were wands and staves. Professor Luyu passed staves to both Greg and Ena.

The petite young woman frowned. “I hate staves.”

“Good,” Professor Luyu said to Ena. “Train your weaknesses now, be useful later.”

Greg didn’t care either way. He’d either be Potter or Gandalf.

“Once you get your killing tool—I mean weapon—I mean magical tool, go form a giant circle,” the wolfman said, his malicious excitement seeming to grow worse. “We’re going to start training and you won’t leave until you have at least a basic understanding of how to surprise a senior. That should buy you the time needed to run as far away as you can, hope a Discipline Committee brat will be there to defend you or get pummeled anyway knowing that you at least hit them with something.”

“I wonder about the safety of everyone here,” Greg deadpanned.

“We should be fine,” Ena said. “Professor Luyu’s the magical combat trainer, not him.”

“Good point,” Greg replied.

After the students stopped moving, Goodman continued speaking. “Tomorrow, before you come to class, be dressed in the appropriate workout attire. For those who are new to the academy, that will be delivered to your room today. Now, I must assume all of you have taken at least one day of basic magic classes. Even if you hadn’t somehow, you’ll learn today. Luyu.”

Professor Luyu nodded. “Lesson one. Casting. Point stick, focus on stick, inject it with your magic, imagine an element, preferably from your affinity, and cast. This much should’ve been taught in your basics class.”

The students stared flatly at the nearly emotionless dark elf professor.

“That’s a simple way of describing basic magic combat,” she said. “Point your stick and fire. Your magic is its load. Goodman.”

“As good as magic is, there will be occasions where you simply won’t have time to cast a spell or better, you need to dodge,” Goodman said. “Block, magical punches and kicks. Whatever. Magic and martial arts go hand in hand like twins. So before we get to the fun part and a chance to send one of you to medical—I mean see you grow as a true combatant, I need to teach you. Oh and those of you given staves, get creative. Wands, well, if you need to get physical, put it back in your sheath and attack with your hands.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Goodman and Luyu demonstrated basic martial art stances, punches and kicks and then forced the students to repeat them fifty to one hundred times in a row. They personally walked down the circle of students, correcting stances and attacks as they went. A few of the rich kids snorted, but Greg ended up finding entertainment as most of the snobs were adjusted two to three times as much. Except Ena.

The young man couldn’t help but feel like a scrub around her. From the other side of the circle, he noticed a familiar glasses-wearing classmate with black hair, a build more on the thin side, and from the look of things, the same indifferent vibe from before. Hiroshi. He looked as if he executed the movements perfectly, only to be corrected by Goodman moments later.

“More force, more force! Do you want to take down your opponent or pat them on the face,” Goodman said then continued down the circle.

Greg was corrected only once, indicating that street fighting had its perks. That or he enjoyed himself.

Toward the end of the day one physical martial arts training, he found himself a little sweaty, but itching to learn more.

“My portion’s done for now,” Goodman said. “It’s time to pick up your wands and staves. Luyu will teach you babies to shake your rattle and look a little threatening. Maybe one day, you’ll earn yourself a rank and become feared by all.”

[You have adapted Basic martial arts combat.]

[EXP gained! Your mysterious crest quivers with glee. Passive skill learned: Battle Lust level 1.]

[You have earned 2 free points!]