Chapter 7: Welcome to the Asura Path

Asura Path.

The battlefield of struggle where I clashed with countless cadets in my past life and must do so again now.

The name sounds like an arena about to open, but the classroom itself was ordinary.

It resembled a university lecture hall, with long desks arranged in tiered rows—a typical classroom setup.

Of course, those filling the room were the world’s top talents.

Just in this class alone, there were plenty.

From the third-generation disciple of Shaolin to the descendant of the giant race, an assassin meticulously trained by the Empire, an elf from the Verdant Forest.

And the future Heavenly Demon.

“Hey! I told you to wait!”

Cheon Yuha, who followed me into the classroom, puffed out her cheeks, clearly annoyed that I kept ignoring her.

The dignity of the Heavenly Demon Cult’s young leader was nowhere to be found.

I considered responding but decided to keep my mouth shut.

“Who’s that guy?”

“What, the cult’s young leader has a friend?”

“Doesn’t seem like friends, though…”

“But what’s with the casts? Already got into trouble?”

“So, who is that guy?”

Maybe because I entered so close to the high-and-mighty young leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult, people were buzzing, staring at us.

Cheon Yuha, oblivious to the attention—or perhaps so used to it she ignored it—kept her eyes fixed on me.

‘…Thanks to her, my face is getting all the attention.’

I didn’t plan to stand out so soon, and it felt like I was already at a loss.

If I got labeled as the cult leader’s sidekick before I even grew stronger, I’d attract unwanted scrutiny.

“Still, I nabbed something valuable, so it’s fine.”

“Oh! Finally ready to talk? So, what’s up?”

“Nothing, really.”

I replied curtly and headed to the corner seat I often used in my past life.

Cheon Yuha blinked, tilted her head, then grinned and plopped down next to me.

“Alright! We’ll get close bit by bit, right?”

“….”

I decided to keep ignoring her.

A few minutes passed with me enduring her one-sided chatter.

Creak— Finally, someone entered through the front door.

I briefly brightened, thinking the awkward atmosphere would lift, only to freeze in despair as I realized what was coming.

“Ahem.”

A knight in pitch-black armor entered the classroom.

The homeroom teacher of First Year, Class 3—Asura Path, and the instructor for the mandatory course [Basic Combat Theory].

The ‘Nightmare of Frost,’ Magical Banana Death Knight.

The legendary Death Knight, who once admired magic and loved tropical fruit, suddenly pointed his thumb at us and said,

“When a banana peels, does it become half a banana?”

A heavy silence fell over the classroom.

“I won’t introduce myself! Surely, after all this time, none of you failed to look up your teacher! But you should know your classmates!”

The Death Knight teacher shouted loudly, as if to dispel the awkward atmosphere.

“So, it’s time for introductions!”

He then ordered us to move to another location for the first period, which doubled as his class and our introductions.

It was 8:40 a.m.

Class started a disastrous 20 minutes early, but surprisingly, no one complained, as they seemed eager to escape the chilly classroom.

“Feels kinda warm now, doesn’t it?”

Even Cheon Yuha agreed.

And so, the students of Class 3—Asura Path left the classroom without protest and entered the lecture hall next door.

The first class on Mondays and Tuesdays: Basic Combat Theory.

Nicknamed “Combat Theory,” it was a tailored course led by the homeroom teacher for the class’s cadets, usually held in the nearest lecture hall—in our case, right next door.

“…Wow.”

“…What is this?”

Gasps of awe erupted as we entered.

Though the exterior looked like a standard lecture hall, the interior was as vast as a gymnasium.

Spatial Distortion and Spatial Expansion magic.

Though sorcery and magic had been known for ages, such top-tier spells were still rare.

Even rarer were lunatics who’d splurge on grand magic and fortunes to build an auditorium next door, making it a shocking sight for the cadets.

‘Well, you’d hardly see this anywhere but Seondo.’

While others marveled at the hall’s size, I turned my gaze elsewhere.

A massive sparring arena, stacked with stone slabs, looked like it belonged in a world-class martial arts tournament.

Cheon Yuha followed my gaze, and soon, more cadets turned to look.

As everyone stared, the Death Knight spoke, hands behind his back.

“I hate pointless talk.”

He glared at us.

The killing intent in his gaze made some lower-ranked cadets’ faces turn pale.

Having seen his nonsense before, I took it in stride.

“…And I really hate formalities!”

The Death Knight clenched his black gauntlet and shouted.

“We’re the Combat Department! Whether you’re a knight or a martial artist, you live and train for battle! So, instead of introductions with words, let’s talk with our bodies!”

By now, all the cadets caught on.

Even as some glanced at each other, still hoping it wasn’t true, the teacher put an end to their delusions.

“A sacred one-on-one duel! Number 1! I grant you the right to choose your first opponent! Step onto the arena and pick your foe!”

He pointed at Cheon Yuha, third in the Combat Department’s entrance rankings and first in our class.

Many cadets frowned or looked at her with trembling eyes.

Cheon Yuha’s eyes widened, then she turned to me.

I frantically waved my hands (casts).

No, I know what you’re thinking, but that’s absolutely not happening, so stop looking at me.

“…If it weren’t for those arms.”

Cheon Yuha clicked her tongue, eyeing my tightly cast-bound arms with regret.

For the first time, I felt grateful my arms weren’t healed.

After staring at me wistfully, she reluctantly stepped onto the arena and chose the cadet with the next highest entrance score.

“Good, good! Everyone else, find your partners quickly! Let’s keep things moving!”

At the teacher’s added words, the cadets began hurriedly seeking opponents.

They approached each other, exchanging names and martial arts backgrounds in polite, standard greetings.

Since it was the first day, they weren’t looking for serious fights but rather opponents to showcase their strength.

Naturally, cadets of similar levels paired up.

“Man, everyone’s lively.”

Even though most were strangers unless they’d met at sect gatherings, pairs formed quickly.

In my past life, I couldn’t do that. I had no friends. I was a training fanatic.

‘So why did I get expelled?’

What a mystery.

Shaking my head at my pathetic past, Cheon Yuha, now back by my side, tapped my shoulder.

“Your arms are hurt—can you manage?”

“It’s not a serious fighting vibe, so I should be fine with just kicks.”

“Oh, then why not spar with me? I’ll tell the teacher to switch—”

“No. That’s not happening.”

I firmly refused again, and her cheeks puffed out, slightly sulky.

Nope, not happening. Her cheeks puffed more.

“By the way, who should I pick?”

I needed to find an opponent, but who?

As I pondered, a light source parted the crowd, approaching me.

“…Ho.”

I chuckled at the bald head reflecting the gym’s lights from all angles.

The dazzling sight was amusing, but I knew why he was coming.

The shiny-headed monk reached me and spoke with a kind expression.

“Friend, if you haven’t found an opponent, would you spar with this humble monk? I mainly practice palm techniques but am quite adept with kicks as well.”

Since your arms are wrecked, I’ll graciously face you with kicks only.

My eyes lit up, and I shouted in an excited voice.

“Wow! Such consideration! Great hero, I’m truly grateful!”

As I warmly welcomed him, Cheon Yuha gave me a strange look.

It wasn’t just that I was being friendly with a stranger— this bald monk wasn’t a pushover.

He was among the top cadets.

“…Calling him a great hero?”

The monk, Iljin, a third-generation Shaolin disciple ranked 27th in the Combat Department, rubbed his glossy head as if embarrassed.

A promising Shaolin talent, a peak-level martial artist, and among the top first-years.

Cheon Yuha glared as if to say, If you’re doing this, why not me? Why someone else?

“Then shall we spar? Since your arms seem inconvenient, I’ll adjust accordingly.”

“Oh, such kind words! But, if I may…”

“Yes, speak.”

Iljin responded with a benevolent smile.

Knowing his dark inner nature beneath that shiny scalp, I found it laughable.

But I didn’t show it, smiling as brightly as Cheon Yuha and saying,

“How about fighting with your inner energy capped at first-class level for a proper match?”

This bastard bullied me in my past life.