The gym was, in a sense, an incredible upgrade to state-of-the-art, considering the equipment in here, the large space that puts an average university gymnasium to shame, and the fact that this is the only main gym amongst the other three is amazing.
Mr. Bombacci had a grin on his face as he scoped the entire area and deliberately ignored our female classmates who were already here before us. "I can get used to this place.
"Jesus, how big is this space?" Mr. Faust said as his eyes widened in shock. "You can fit an airplane in here… or maybe two?"
I don't think you are able to fit two airplanes in here, maybe one.
But if I were to guess by instinct alone on how big the space is, I would say at least enough to fit in three Olympic-sized swimming pools here.
I see Leonid on the pull-up bar on the wall in the distance, I wonder if that is his normal warm-up? Considering he must have been in here for five minutes since he left, he could be in the hundreds.
It just goes to show that the school's budget is quite vast.
In fact, you can build an entire battleground for a paintball war here.
A few of us, well mainly Mr. Faust, just stared, trying and failing to process the scale.
It was Mr. Maximiliano who spoke, as his voice was calm, the complete opposite of some of the shock some of the others had.
In fact, he hadn't even opened his eyes yet, or perhaps he did and he just had scarily fast movement to the point no one could tell he had opened his eyes.
What a mysterious person you are, but yet, the loudest one in my head.
"It's approximately 14,400 square meters of floor space," He said casually as his tone was not one of bragging but factual, like he was telling the time of day. He gestured with a languid hand towards the far end, which was once again a hazy distance. "The ceiling is about fifty meters at its apex. So the total volume… You could comfortably have three Olympic-sized swimming pools in here, along with diving boards as well."
There was a brief silence amongst us boys.
Kai Moon(Rank 186), who had black short hair parted to the side, and had golden brown eyes blinked in bewilderment of Mr. Maximiliano's measurement speed. "You just… figured that out? Just now?"
Leonidas offered a faint, almost archaic smile, the kind that belonged to a Victorian portrait. "Well actually just the moment we opened the doors is when I figured it out, the tiles are standard one-meter squares. It's simple counting. The ceiling height is a matter of triangulating the light riggings. The rest is arithmetic."
Even I must admit, he processes his environment way faster than I, considering his casualness and it was his first time entering the gym as well, he must have already processed the measurements of the interior the moment we opened the door four seconds ago.
He could be just as fast as Miss. Curie or even far superior to her and just likes to keep it to himself.
Which begs the even more questions, why reveal your calculations?
Especially when Mr. Faust's question was not literal.
It is not out of arrogance, that much is for certain, so could it be that you want me to psychoanalyze you more?
For me to figure out the connections?
But for what purpose if it is the case?
"Just counting he says," Adrien sighed dramatically. "How utterly dull of you Leonidas, showing off your mathematical cognition," He then looked at me. "I bet you could do better~"
He tried to latch to my arm but I took a sidestep. "I'm afraid I cannot, Mr. Maximiliano is far superior to me in calculations it seems," I said calmly which made him pout. "Whatever you say, Lord Apollo~ you still have the best looks of anyone here."
The guys sighed at his reverence for me.
"Now, now what is this I hear about my Houdini being called 'Lord Apollo' all of a sudden?"
The voice of the demoness of war herself has spoken, she walked to us with her grandiose grin, Milicia with a rather… Bold look.
We the boys were distracted by her body, albeit I was for a different reason, due to my earlier teasing on Leonid about he and she having elegantly matching bodies, and I was indeed right, even Milicia's abs were refined to the capabilities of feminine genetics would allow.
Now then, one would ask how do I know that, or any of us guys do? Have our sight perceptions transcended above the levels that we had literal X-ray vision sight?
"M-Milicia! Have you no shame?!" Mr. Beckham stammered with a very flustered expression as he looked away.
Miss. Perez(Rank 197) with the other girls shouted. "Trust us, we tried to tell that puta to put on a shirt!"
Well that's not a very nice word to use for someone like Milicia, I mean, she doesn't seem like the person to sleep around.
"Yeah no kidding, she really doesn't have any shame, making us girls look bad." Zisel Lehi(Rank 182) said, a girl with purple eyes and grey hair that was undercut on the left side and had long hair on the other side. "Though, I do appreciate the blunt attitude from her, I can't lie."
Another girl, who had green eyes, dark brown skin and brown dreadlocks that were tied up into a ponytail, her name was Areli Famala(Rank 188), she had her arms crossed as she muttered to Miss. Lehi that my ears were able to pick up. "Or perhaps she is trying to show off to you know who," Miss. Famala glanced at me which she thought went unnoticed since it appears that I am merely looking at Milicia.
Miss. Lehi smirked. "Ah I see what you mean, yeah I can totally see that."
Anyways, I returned my attention fully to the group I am in.
"Her abs rival Isaac's!" Mr. Montreal unfortunately pointed out that which will most certainly have me be touched like a piece of meat which will eventually lead to Milicia doing something bold once more.
Why must they keep comparing my abs to someone? This body was not meant for the purpose of admiring!
They treat my body as if it were some sex symbol that was made for temptation for others.
In reality, the reason why we can see her torso and a lot of her skin was due to the fact that she wore her gym uniform uniquely.
She was indeed wearing the gym pants, shoes, and had the gym jacket tied around her waist, but the anomaly was the fact she wasn't wearing a white t-shirt like all of us are wearing, instead, she wore a black sports bra, a push up one at that, and it certainly… Didn't help much to contain them.
I know that my serene demeanor would make me sound incredibly unserious for what I'm about to say but. "You don't want to know Milicia, oh the horrors behind the reasoning for that name."
It was indeed horrifying to me, since it made me objectified as a piece of meat… and not a piece of a magician…
Milicia looked at me holding her laugh back with all her willpower. "H-houdini, y-you really have no idea how funny you sounded when you said that!"
Oh, I indeed knew how funny I would sound like saying it, as I am unapologetic with how I sound like even when trying to be serious or funny.
Like you Milicia, are unapologetic about everything, which made me admire your unapologetic nature and unwavering confidence, even if I question the identity you wear.
"But I'm being serious…" I pleaded.
And before Milicia could respond to my convincing warning, Mr. Falk, apparently not caring about personal boundaries…
Like a certain Adrien.
Tapped Milicia's abs a few times, which seemed to not bother Milicia in the slightest, either because she doesn't care or just acknowledging my existence and no one else, probably both.
Mr. Falk blinked a few times despite still having his usual bored expression. "It seems we have found our Mistress Artemis to our Lord Apollo," he said blankly.
"Translate that into human words, Aurelian." Baldwin Miroslav(rank 187), who had white curly hair and bright blue eyes, said dryly which made Aurelian sigh.
"I meant that she is just as durable as Isaac or even more based on the firmness of her muscles, quite frankly I barely feel any body fat at all when I tapped Milicia's abs."
Even though she does have a dancer's v-shape physique, it was still impressive for her to maintain that build while having abs that are almost on the level of being considered chiseled.
Mr. Shoi nudged Mr. Bombacci. "You hear that?" He whispered. "She'll be able to tank your punches as Isaac did."
"In theory Tao… in theory…" Mr. Bombacci whispered back although he was very skeptical.
Milicia's hearing this had a curious grin. "Oh? Just as durable as mine? I should cop a feel of this." Before I could protest Milicia's hand was already under my outfits defense as I felt her cold hand on my torso savoring the feel.
Milicia let out a low whistle as if appreciating a piece of Van Gogh's artwork. "Well damn Houdini, you've been holding out on me, feels like steel," She pulled her hand back. "But~ I'm much more refined and harder than steel so you've got a long way, Houdini, but you are more impressive than these lots here. And now I can understand why they call you Lord Apollo now, but I'll keep calling you Houdini~"
I was incredibly happy that she is still calling me Houdini, it was much more accurate than all the nicknames combined, and probably the only one I tolerate.
"Are they really that hard?" I couldn't help but ask since I believe that she could very well make me feel her.
"Oh? Well your curiosity is gonna be appalled." She gripped my hand and forced it onto her abs.
Her physical assessment was right, she is much more refined than I was on a wide scale that if she and I would be forced to fight physically to the condition that I would have to knock her out to win, I would lose without a doubt, even if I manage to land a hit on her, it would not do anything to her, and taking a hit from her might be lethal and or lead to my death if that is possible.
So fighting offense against her would be a lose-lose situation for anyone, even Mr. Bombacci would lose.
Another reason why I believe this is the case is not just from the feeling of her abs, it was her grip which made my serene smile go into a faint smile, because I am using every ounce of my strength to pull back, but her grip made it stay in place, and I can't even see my struggle because how hard my hand was placed.
If my grip was that of a gorilla's, Milicia's was an industrial hydraulic gripper.
It's no wonder why I can't move my hand at all, and she is not even trying.
If this is the baseline of her strength alone, then I pray for anyone who becomes a victim to Milicia if she genuinely did put effort into her strength.
But then again, I'm not built to be on the offense, since I am more on defense and for speed considering I am a bleeding pacifist.
"You're very firm Milicia." I said calmly to Milicia as she finally let go.
"Yeah yeah, I know I am, it's part of the perks and beauty of the Milosevics, and I know for certainty no one at this school can rival me in a fight."
Milicia's confidence has always been backed up no matter how arrogant she sounded, and quite frankly, I am inclined to believe her.
Mr. Beckham went to Nirvan Fjar(Rank 183), who had a cold sweat on his tan skin and had shoulder-length black hair and a small ponytail, and wore sunglasses as Mr. Beckham spoke. "Are they… flirting?… I'm not the only one who senses the sexual tension right…?"
Mr. Fjar shook his head as he corrected Mr. Beckham. "No Enoch, it's more like a predator marking her territory, we just saw her casually sexually harass Isaac by feeling him and taking his hand and feeling her without permission."
As much as I still view Milcia and our dynamic as a form of friendship on equal footing, I can see why many people would see it as a predator-prey relationship.
"I know that but Isaac doesn't seem uncomfortable about it…"
On the contrary, I wasn't a huge fan of forced physical contact, especially intimate like this, but since I was unable to break from Milicia's grip, I have accepted my temporary fate.
But hopefully she doesn't actually go further, I don't think she would stoop so low to that, but if she does, it would be the biggest 'tell' she ever let herself conduct.
It just comes to show that no matter how many times someone calls me exceptional, there will always be someone superior to me, and the likes of Mr. Maximiliano, Mr. Bombacci, and Milicia have proven that statement that they are superior to me in places where I am inferior.
"So we are just gonna ignore the fact that Milicia is wearing a bra?" Mr. Montreal asked as he tried his best not to stare at Milicia's chest.
"A sports bra you imbecile," Milicia corrected. "And it's not even against the rules, and this was PERSONALLY tailored by the school itself, see?" She pulled the hem of her sports bra slightly showing the school's trademark.
Although saying 'slightly' would be an understatement since… it was almost visible for all of us to see.
"Milicia we do not need to see more!" Mr. Bombacci protested as he and the other guys looked away, except for Mr. Falk, Mr. Alexandrescu, Adrien, and me.
"We get it Milicia, you love showing off your breasts." Mr. Shoi said. "Now pull your hem up so we don't see more than we already saw."
Milicia shrugged and adjusted her sports bra where it originally was. "Well it wasn't to show Pinky, but just for your information," She pressed her finger on her breast. "These are not for show,"
Her subtle wink at me went unnoticed by everyone but me.
Why on earth would… ah… She must have seen that the kiss on the cheek she gave me when I did the War of Kings card trick with her had no effect on me, so she showed her breast, well not all of it, but it left little to the imagination.
Even then, I wasn't flustered, but still, gotta love the confidence and unapologetic Milicia.
"I like her~" Adrien, who was now next to me, purred. I made sure to take four steps to the side away from him, well more like six for extra precaution.
"Well," Mr. Alexandrescu who remained calm this entire time and unfazed by the unpredictability of Milicia's bold nature moved his glasses a bit. "Milicia is not wrong in a sense, while yes it is provocative, it is not against the dress code when it comes to the gym, even if her… Proportions are not well kept. And we already figured that the school keeps its word about us having full autonomy so it would be permissible to adjust the school's dress code to an extent."
"Only you would analyze the loopholes of the school's dress code while looking at a girl's breast." Mr. Shoi sighed and rubbed his temple.
I would have wanted to die down the absurd tension in this small group by saying a joke like;
"Let's bet what Mr. Shoi will say next? I bet he'll say this Class H is nothing but a circus."
If I said that, I would definitely get the cold shoulder of a tough crowd with the exception of Adrien's dramatic reverence, Milicia's bluntness, and Mr. Shoi is probably calling me a natural mind reader.
Considering the school allows even the normal school uniforms to be adjusted according to the student in question comfortability, that of course extends to gym uniforms as well, although there is probably a limit like not being allowed to be wearing certain clothes that essentially make you nude.
"Even this Sherlock wannabe agrees with me." Milicia gestured her thumb at Mr. Alexandrescu who sighed.
"Don't lump me in with that fictional mediocrity."
Milicia always has a way to rile up people, although that should be expected since she likes to be the dominant one in any social dynamic regardless of the other person's status or capabilities.
I felt a hand on my back as I looked behind me and it was Miss. Curie(Rank 176). "Your back muscles are very firm…" she whispered.
I spoke. "A pleasant seeing you, although I don't get why you are behind me and not with the other girls?"
Although given to her complex nature, the other girls would probably not want to be around her. I would have thought Milicia and her would probably bond, but given Milicia's reaction a few days ago, it seems that Miss. Curie was never meant to have friends in Class H or in this school at all…
Which is why I defied that destiny for Miss. Curie by being friends with her even though she does not fully acknowledge me as her friend yet, and along with Aurelie as well.
"Because they are too chatty… and I'm… more familiar with you than anyone else in our class…" She admitted.
I cannot deny, the way she is hiding behind my back makes her look like a shy little sister staying with her older brother, it was cute, and it just shows how unique my relationship with Miss. Curie is.
"Does this mean I can use your given name?"
"No… not yet, although I can in one condition…" she whispered to where only I could hear.
"And the condition is?"
"Did you… intentionally do it?"
The moment I heard that, my brain had already connected the dots to the incident that happened with Miss. Georgiadis.
"If you mean what happened to Miss. Georgiadis, then I can confidently say I had nothing to do with it."
It was the truth, and you cannot break the truth as it is not a lie, and like the mirror, the truth is indifferent.
And telling Miss. Curie that Mr. Alexandrescu already cleared me and asking her to ask him for confirmation makes me look desperate, suspicious, and guilty in front of Miss. Curie.
So telling her that would make her incredibly guarded around me, however, another reason why I didn't mention it was cause I really wasn't afraid of someone trying to figure out the real strings behind the incident, not because I'm arrogant, but because the framework of the incident simply points me to being innocent no matter what.
Because why should a person who did nothing worry?
She then looked at me as if she were shooting lasers from her eyes and shooting through me, and then she had a pout expression and clicked her tongue. "Dammit, you are infuriatingly honest."
"It's another persistent trait of mine," I said as I patted her head as if she was a puppy as she swatted my hand away. "So does this mean I can call you Marie now?"
"… I permit it." Marie finally decided.
Hearing this, I put this in my special memory library as I filed it as special memory 902.
Of course, my memory has many libraries, well only four which are my main memories, my memories I play in my dreams when I sleep, my special memory library, and well, my magician's theater where I store every person I cherish and never forgot in my theater as a way to practice my performance to see if it'll go as I thought it will
My theater in my mind contains many individuals who would fill up the entirety of the earth due to how many people I remember and memorize personally. Of course, there was 'that' void… I sometimes go there to feel the snow that is constant, even if it is not currently real, it is real in memory, since snow has always been a comfort like my mother since I was a child…
After all, it is a magician's principle to heighten everything to perform the greatest tricks. So mastering the memory is indeed one of them.
One would ask me why I bother remembering everyone and memorizing every person perfectly to the point that I know them personally?
I tell them that it is because who will honor and remember them when they are dead?
Who would be the one to hear their voices even in death?
Who would love them when no one else does?
Who will remember them when they are forgotten?
I remember them all because I love them too much to forget them no matter how 'insignificant' or significant they are.
They can be poor or rich and I still would never forget them, it will never let me stop loving them.
A magician always cherishes and loves their audience no matter if they know them or not.
People even in death need to know that someone is there for them and hears them in the silence of death.
They need to know that there is someone out there who views them not as pawns, playthings, or even tools, but as people, as human beings, not assets, but people who don't want to be alone.
A whistle was blown that got all of our attention, well besides Leonid who was still doing pull-ups, as if he was in his own flow state that he muted his entire surroundings.
We all looked at the person in question who blew the whistle… and it would not be far off to assume that he was a giant.
He had a wide smile as he stood about 6'10" with a build that would be able to stop a tank as his brown gaze looked at all of us.
"Hey, Giovanni and Sinclair! We found another one of your species! You goddamn Golilaths..." Mr. Montreal shouted at them.
Mr. Bombacci grunted. "Must you resort me to someone who got killed by a slingshot?" He crossed his arms. "It's insulting and basically calling me stupid."
"It's the only way to describe you titan monsters!" Mr. Montreal retorted.
The girl who was also called out by Mr. Montreal, Sinclair Bosque(Rank 192), had shoulder-length black hair and golden orange eyes, with the same build as Milicia.
I remember that Miss. Bisque said in her introduction during orientation day that she played championship in Futbol and Volleyball for many schools in Spain.
Also, she was very tall, even taller than Mr. Bombacci and the person who blew the whistle who appears to be our P.E. Instructor.
Miss. Bosque rested her arm on Mr. Bombacci's head as if leaning on him like someone would on a desk. "Borsalino has a point Giovanni, compared to the others here, we are like Goliath."
I kept it to myself, but Miss. Bosque, I think you are more closer to Goliath than Mr. Bombacci and the P.E. Instructor, given both of them are also the same height, and you are genetically taller than them to the point that most of us have to physically look up with our heads instead of our eyes to see you, and also the fact that Miss. Bosque is 7'8" tall, which is very scary for someone being that tall and athletically well built.
I don't doubt for a second that she has the biggest dorm room, since the administration of the school would have no choice but to accommodate the needs of Miss. Bosque.
Mr. Bombacci slapped Miss. Bosque arm off of his head. "You are like Goliath, you genetic monster." He said as he tried to move away but she placed her arm back on his head and this time, it kept Mr. Bombacci in place.
"Ah don't be like that Giovanni! Borsalino is basically calling us the strongest in the class!" She countered, flashing him a beautiful smile that seemed out of place for Miss. Bosque.
The man in question cleared his throat. "Welcome students of Class H, to your first gym class! I am Bolivar Borgard!" He said loudly. "Now before we begin, who can get Leonid Novikov over here?"
I saw Milicia grinning massively that was dripping with an overwhelming malice that would shake a soldier's core to the fullest despite her grin not changing, to everyone's perspective they just see the arrogant grin.
"Oh, I can!" Milicia immediately said as she took off her shoe and held the shoe.
Oh no…
"U-uh Milicia… what are you planning to do with that shoe…?" Miss. Naomi(Rank 198) nervously asked.
"I agree with Jun, We haven't even started our running yet…" Mr. Montreal warily said as he took a step back.
Milicia grinning with malevolent excitement spoke. "What does it look like I'm planning? I'm gonna throw this shoe at the cowards central area of his back at the speed of a Snipex Alligator that will snap him back into reality."
There was a brief silence until Mr. Shoi spoke. "A Snipex Alligator? You must be joking." He said while raising an analytical brow.
Mr. Miroslav nodded. "Yeah no, there is no way you're gonna be able to throw that shoe forty meters at Leonid, the speed for that needs to match 900 meters per second, let alone the strike force to throw it, and not to mention it is not possible even with our modern-day physical standards," he argued. "I should know, I watched my uncle use a Snipex Alligator and inspected the mechanisms of it."
"I don't think she is lying," I said which got everyone besides Milicia and Coach Bogard who was already far away wearing headphones and an amused smirk on his face.
"I… agree with Isaac…" Mr. Alexandrescu cautiously said. "And I think it's best for all of us to back away twenty… Maybe thirty steps…"
It was the most logical thing to do as we all followed his advice.
"And we should probably cover our ears too, it's about to get… very loud." Mr. Maximiliano also advised but he remained the same as I did, and everyone also listened to him.
Of course, I did not cover my ears, cause what's the worst thing that can happen?
It's just sound.
Simple sound.
"Isaac, are you crazy?! Cover your ears!" Marie whispered loudly behind me while she covered her own ears and had a tone of concern for the first time.
"I admire your worry for me, but I'll be fine," I whispered back.
"This should be fun…" Miss. Bosque muttered while effortlessly holding Mr. Bombacci like a water bottle, who was too busy watching Milicia about to pull the impossible.
She too did not cover her ears, it shows how fearless Miss. Bosque is.
Although I do feel bad for Leonid.
Milicia's stance widened, her right leg digging into the gymnasium floor with enough torque that I heard the floor screech in protest. Her back muscles, exposed and terrifyingly defined, coiled like the tension springs of a siege weapon. The shoe was gripped in her hand not as footwear, but as a ballistic projectile.
"Target locked," Milicia murmured, a grin splitting her face that was less human and more apex predator finding a wounded gazelle.
Leonid, still forty meters away. He was still on the bar, rising and falling in a rhythmic, hypnotic trance of pull-ups. Up. Down. Up. Down.
He was in his flow state, a place of zen where the world melted away. He was finding peace.
He was about to find something else entirely.
Mr. Beckham, despite his ears being covered, also protested. "Milicia, don't you dare!"
It was too late.
Milicia's arm did not move, it in fact vanished.
One moment, the shoe was in her hand. Next, there was a sound, a sharp deafening CRACK like a whip snapping directly inside my ear canal.
Like I said, it was just a loud sound, nothing to fear.
BOOM.
It wasn't a metaphor. It was a localized sonic boom. The air pressure in front of Milicia collapsed so violently that a gust of wind actually ruffled Mr. Montreal's hair backward.
I saw the shockwave ripple through the dust motes in the air, a visible distortion of physics that should not belong in a high school gymnasium.
Milicia's physical prowess is in the most literal sense a siege weapon in human clothing, or a demon, the lines blur when it comes to Milicia.
One would say the shoe flew, or even somehow evaporated, but it was transported.
Across the forty-meter gap, there was no arc. There was no trajectory. There was only a blur of white and the horrifying sound of rubber friction burning against the atmosphere.
THWACK.
The sound of the impact was wet, heavy, and sickeningly loud. It echoed off the fifty-meter-high ceilings, bouncing around the 14,400 square meters of space like a gunshot.
Leonid didn't scream. He didn't have time to scream.
The shoe struck him dead center in the thoracic spine, right between the shoulder blades.
One second, Leonid was a statue of muscular discipline pulling himself toward the bar. The next, his body contorted into a shape that human anatomy usually reserves for car crash dummies.
He flew.
He literally flew to the wall.
Good thing he was only less than a foot away from the wall.
He was blasted off the pull-up bar, his body vertical in mid-air for a split second, before he crashed face-first onto the wall and then fell on the floor with a thud that shook the floorboards somewhat.
The shoe, having delivered its payload, ricocheted off his back with enough residual force that it shot straight up into the air, spinning wildly, before landing ten feet away with an innocent plap.
It was a good thing that the pull-up bars were close to the wall, or else Leonid could have been incredibly injured than he already is.
Silence.
Absolute, terrifying silence.
Leonid lay motionless on the floor. Smoke, literal, actual smoke from friction was rising from the sole of the shoe that lay on the ground.
"My… my word…" Mr. Mercado muttered in awe.
"OH MY GOD LEONID!" Viviana Winchester(Rank 189), another classmate of ours who had gorgeous luminous bleached blonde long hair, porcelain skin, and light green eyes yelled as she ran to Leonid to check on her.
So did a few more classmates run to check on Leonid.
"Holy… mother of…" Miss. Dolfuss(Rank 196) trailed off with a widened smirk of excitement.
"Did… did she just kill him?" Adrien squeaked, somehow finding his way to clutch my arm, his earlier lust replaced by primal fear. "Is he dead? Oh god, Lord Apollo, tell me he's not dead!"
I stared at the unmoving form of Leonid for a good second.
If I go by my memory of the throw carefully and watch it, based on the velocity… assuming the shoe weighed approximately 300 grams… traveling at… let's say Mach 1.2…
"He's not dead," I said, once again breaking away from Adrien's clutch. "But I believe his soul has temporarily left his body to file a complaint."
"Bullseye," Milicia declared with a triumphant smirk.
She stood up straight, dusting off her hands as if she had just tossed a piece of paper into a trash can and not launched a surface-to-air missile at a classmate. "See? I told you. Snipex Alligator. Never misses."
"Y-you… you absolute…" Miss. Perez stammered with a grin and wide eyes that were mixed with awe, admiration, and also fear.
"YOU ABSOLUTE GODDESS!" Miss. Bosque squealed like a highschool girl who has fallen in love with the boy she wants, well in this case, has found her idol. "You must tell me your training regimen, Milicia! I've been wanting to practice my throwing aim more!" She ran to Milicia in an instant that even Mr. Bombacci was bewildered since a second he was still being held and now he's on the ground confused about what is happening, as Miss. Bosque was hugging Milicia even more tightly than she did with Mr. Bombacci.
I saw Miss. Perez tensed up when Miss. Bosque asked Milicia for her training regimen.
Perhaps Miss. Perez knows more about Miss. Bosque?
Well considering both of their accents, while speaking English, held their native European Spanish in their tongue, however considering the particular dialects in question, it seems both of them derive from southern Spain, or specifically Andalusian, considering their accents had a familiar consonants to their sharpness and a clipped Andalusian edge I recognized immediately due to my extensive knowledge and mastery of the romance family tree that not only extends to languages but also dialects, and also my time when I once traveled to Sevilla, which was a rather chaotic time that I shall never forget.
But it only seems like Miss. Perez was the only one who seemed personally tense and internally scared of Miss. Bosque, and Miss. Bosque doesn't seem to recognize her.
You don't get that tension from indirectly hearing about Miss. Bosque, you either had encountered her directly, or watched her in person before.
So if I had to toss up a coin and say that it was the latter for heads, I would definitely call heads.
The dynamics are very peculiar.
Anywho, back to reality, when Miss. Bosque hugged Milicia, it was indeed not a hug when you take a closer look, well I didn't move, but my eyes were observant enough to see that it was a compression.
The sound was indeed not of affection, but of a force of a low, dense creak of muscles contorting, of Milicia's sports bra straining against sudden immense pressure.
It was amazing what Miss. Bosque's arms can do despite them being almost identical to Milicia's with a bit more muscle than Milicia's of course given her frame, as the arms wrapped around Milicia's torso locked with the mechanical finality of industrial hydraulics.
It amazes me how many people can reach these levels of physical prowess without genetic enhancements, and none of them have any unnatural inconsistencies on their bodies that show enhancements from technology, as it seems they trained their bodies to reach these levels, of course, I did the same but for the sake of other reasons.
Moments ago, I just saw Miss. Bosque effortlessly restrain Mr. Bombacci with one arm like a child. This was the same strength, focused and doubled.
If that hug were directed at a car's frame, the metal would certainly have buckled. If it were aimed at even an elite trainer or a modern-day Spartan warrior, then their ribs would certainly have been splintered.
I was intrigued.
Not just by Miss. Bosque's strength, but by Milicia herself.
Milicia did not flinch.
In fact, she stood there, encased in what should have been a bone-crushing grapple, and her grin didn't even waver.
She let out a soft, amused breath, and then without any visible effort, she brought her arms up between them.
There was no struggle, or even any strain at all.
Or fatigue for that matter.
It was a simple, elegant expansion.
Miss. Bosque's hug broke apart like over-tightened straps being cut. Not with violence, but an inevitable, calm condescension force, and Milicia's muscles did not bulge at all, they simply reasserted the space they required, parting Miss. Bosque's arms as if they were theater curtains.
Miss. Bosque blinked, her golden-orange eyes wide with surprise, then delight instead of fear. "¡Carajo! You really are on another level!"
Milicia patted her shoulder, a gesture in a way that would show anyone else that looked like a master acknowledging a talented apprentice.
But after my short time of knowing Milicia, she was in truth, being incredibly condescending, and I don't think Miss. Bosque cares. "You've got a grip, titan. But squeezing's only half of it. You've gotta know how to hold it without trying to break it." Milicia advised Miss. Bosque while feigning the sweetness of an instructor would when teaching a student who made a common mistake for the first time.
Mr. Shoi who still had his composure looked at Mr. Miroslav. "So, still think it isn't possible?"
Mr. Miroslav, who criticized Milicia's supposed overestimation of her own strength, now saw the reality of what he had just witnessed. "I knew she was strong… But to even…"
He was at a loss for words, and he had a cold sweat.
"Truly a weapon in human form…" Mr. Fajr muttered to which Mr. Beckham nodded.
"S-she had to have genetic or some cybernetic enhancements done right?!" Mr. Montreal shouted at us boys trying to come up with a logical complaint about the limitations of human physics. "I mean how the hell can you cause a sonic boom and not even show any signs of exhaustion? Or a torn ligament for that matter."
"Oh no," Mr. Maximiliano interjected. "It is very much possible."
"Oh? So is it naturally possible for someone to have that much strength and speed?" Mr. Mercado softly said as he gestured to the shoe that Milicia went to grab and casually put on despite it still being smoking.
"It is a matter of specialized conditioning," he began, his voice soft and clear. "Not merely strength, but precise orchestration of fascia, tendon, and fast-twitch muscle fiber. The sonic boom is not produced by the arm alone."
He gestured his hand, tracing an invisible diagram in the air. "Observe the kinetic chain. The throw originated from the ground. The torque began in her rear foot, driven upward through the ankle, knee, and hip. The power was not generated in the shoulder, but transferred to it. Her core, the transverse abdominis, and the oblique acted as a rigid conduit, preventing any energy leakage. The final release from the shoulder and the triceps is merely the tip of the whip."
He glanced at Milicia, who was still talking to Miss. Bosque despite her eyes leaking her boredom, however her ear position was towards us as it twitched a bit, showing that she could clearly hear us. "She has trained her connective tissues to withstand forces that should shred conventional athletic builds, even at the elite level. It is less about building mass and more about densifying the existing structures," His archaic smile returned. "Think of it as forging steel cable versus piling up iron bars. The training would involve extreme plyometrics, isometric holds under maximal load, and likely… impact conditioning."
It seems he and I came to the right conclusion as he continued. "The back. The latissimus Dorsi and the trapezius, they are the primary stabilizers for a throwing motion of that caliber. To accelerate a projectile to transonic speeds without dislocating the shoulder joint requires the lats to act as a braking system and a recoil absorber simultaneously. Hers are not merely large, they are neurologically hyper-efficient. Every motor unit fires in perfect, instantaneous sequence."
If Howard Gardner were alive, he would definitely have loved Mr. Maximiliano probably would have taken him under his wing as an apprentice. Considering he would appreciate Mr. Maximiliano's multi-faceted thinking and application of his concepts like mathematical, visual spatial, and bodily-kinesthetic intelligence.
Albeit, he might want empirical evidence and data, but he might trust Mr. Maximiliano's analysis and observation enough to appreciate Mr. Maximiliano's intelligence.
Mr. Maximiliano paused, his eyes showing understanding. "This is clearly not sport training, that much is certain. This is a martial curriculum designed for a singular purpose, lethal purpose and that is to replicate and surpass the kinetic delivery of all firearms and artillery. So Isaac was indeed correct that Milicia was not lying when she made the comment about the Snipex Alligator being literal, it was a statement of equivalent function."
A murmur rippled through the small group of boys. "So… you are saying that she can just control her entire body to become any weapon…?" Adrien asked hesitantly.
"Yes."
Mr. Shoi looked at Mr. Bombacci once more. "So you still think it's a theory, Giovanni?" He asked.
"… I can be poorly mistaken from time to time…" Mr. Bombacci admitted while scratching the back of his head.
Whichever strength that Milicia has, it wouldn't be too far off to assume that she is the human embodiment of not just all weapons, but also the unstoppable force human incarnate…
I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for her, it's no wonder why she said she felt a chemistry line, perhaps she feels that I am the same as her in a way despite our different worldviews, or perhaps she perceives my worldview as the same as hers but 'nicer'?
With all that strength… it must feel incredibly lonely…
Yet her loneliness is not like Miss. Kim's where she was always alone, but it is as if Milicia is wanting to have someone again, a perceived equal.
It would appear that the fifth possibility is becoming more considered on the table rather than staying in the abstract.
Although now my curiosity wanted to know what Milicia could do at full strength? Perhaps my curiosity will let me see it and live to see another day?
I felt a sharp tug on the back of my gym jacket.
It was Marie again, still using me as a human shield against the social radiation of the rest of the class.
"Isaac," she whispered, her voice laced with a mixture of analytical confusion and genuine concern. "Your ears."
"My ears?" I asked, keeping my voice low so as not to interrupt Mr. Maximiliano's lecture on biomechanics. "Are they too big? I've been told they are quite average."
"Don't play games with me now, idiot," She hissed, pressing her forehead slightly against my shoulder blade. "Why aren't they ringing? Why aren't they bleeding? Everyone else, even the ones covering their ears is wincing or rubbing the side of their head, even that beast Sinclair rubbed her ears. That was a sonic boom. A literal pressure wave caused by an object breaking the sound barrier in an enclosed space. The decibel level alone should have caused temporary tinnitus at the very least."
She paused, and I could feel her hand flattened against my back, right over where my heart resides. "And your heart… It's beating at a resting pace. Sixty beats per minute, maybe sixty-two. It didn't spike when the boom happened. It didn't spike when Leonid hit the wall. It didn't even flutter." She moved her head to the side, peering around my arm to look up at my face with those intense yellow eyes. "Physiologically speaking, that is impossible. Even if you expected it, the autonomic nervous system reacts to loud noises and violence. It's a survival reflex. You… you didn't have one. It's like your body didn't even register the threat."
I offered a calm smile. "I suppose I just have a delayed reaction time, Marie. I'm sure I'll be terrified in about three to four business days."
She poked my spine hard. "Don't give me that. You're not slow, you're… insulated." She didn't press further, retreating back into the shadow of my silhouette like a vampire entering their coffin when the sun rises.
Her mind truly is exceptional in not only noticing the software, but also the hardware too.
"Leonidas is correct," a voice cut through the murmurs of the boys.
It was Mr. Alexandrescu again. He adjusted his glasses, the lens reflecting the harsh gym lights as he took a glance at Milicia, who was currently laughing at something Miss. Bosque said, seemingly not hearing our conversation.
"About the kinetic conditioning. It's not just a theory. It is a documented fact, though one that is heavily redacted."
"Redacted?" Adrien asked, his eyes wide. "Like… spy stuff?"
"Interpol stuff," Mr. Alexandrescu corrected. "My father… he had files on the Milosevic family. Not criminal files, exactly, but 'capability assessments.' When I was younger, I was incredibly curious, so I… borrowed his access key."
"You stole your dad's login?" Mr. Montreal grinned. "Respect, Sherlock Jr."
Mr. Alexandrescu ignored him. "The Milosevic 'Curriculum' isn't just martial arts training. It's more like a systematic restructuring of the human body starting from the age of four. They don't train to compete, they train to become living artillery. Leonidas mentioned densifying the structures? The file called it 'calcification induction.' They micro-fracture the bones and tear the muscles repeatedly, forcing them to heal denser, harder, over and over again until the skeleton is effectively organic steel."
He took another glance at Milicia with a grim sort of respect. "It's a lethally traditional method. Most, if not, all children or adults for that matter would not survive the conditioning. They wash out, or they end up devastatingly crippled. For Milicia to be standing there, moving with the level of fluidity… She isn't just a successful story. She is the masterpiece of a cruel, generational experiment. She can adjust her torque and velocity to mimic the ballistic output of almost any small-arms weapon. A pistol, a rifle… or in this case, a Snipex Alligator."
I don't think she is only limited to small-arms weapons, considering she is holding back a lot.
"So she wasn't metaphorically speaking," Mr. Beckham whispered, looking a little green. "She literally turned her arm into a sniper rifle."
"Precisely," Mr. Alexandrescu nodded. "If she wanted to, she could have put that shoe through the wall. The fact that it bounced off Leonid means she exercised monumental restraint."
"Restraint?!" Adrien squeaked. "She turned him into a wall decal!"
"Relative restraint," Mr. Alexandrescu clarified.
"And she is holding back significantly more than that," a bored voice drawled. We all turned to Mr. Falk. He was still looking at the screech mark that Milicia left on the ground, eyes half-closed, looking as if this entire conversation was putting him to sleep. "1.5 percent."
"Excuse me?" Mr. Mercado asked.
"She used approximately 1.5 percent of her actual physical prowess for that throw," Mr. Falk said, yawning. "If she had engaged her hips fully, or used a proper pivot, the sonic boom would have shattered the windows. She threw that with her arm and a little bit of back. It was a 'get away' toss. A flick of the wrist."
1.5 percent.
The number hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
"You're joking," Mr. Montreal said, his smile gone. "You're saying she's... what? Almost a hundred times stronger than that?"
"Give or take," Mr. Falk shrugged. Then, his emerald green eyes slid over to me. They weren't bored anymore. They were sharp. Calculating.
What an intense look from him…
"But what's more interesting," Mr. Falk continued, walking slowly towards our circle, "is that we have another physical beast in here, and it is not Sinclair." I felt a slight tension in my neck.
"I assume you are talking about Mr. Bombacci?" I deflected smoothly. "He punched me quite hard."
"No," Mr. Falk said, stopping right in front of me. "I'm talking about the immovable object to her unstoppable force. You, Isaac."
I felt Marie's head on my back tilting with interest.
"Me?" I let out a light, a soft chuckle that matched well for my serene smile. "Mr. Falk, I am just a magician. I do card tricks and pull coins from people's ears, and desire to have friends and to understand others. I am hardly a force of nature."
It was very much true I say, to suggest otherwise would be a crime against humanity.
"Drop the act," Mr. Falk said, though his tone wasn't hostile. It was just... factual. "Earlier. When Giovanni punched you."
"Yeah, he tanked it!" Adrien chimed in enthusiastically. "Like a wall!"
"He didn't tank it," Mr. Falk corrected."If he had 'tanked' it, meaning, if he had absorbed the force by tensing his abdominals and standing his ground, he would have taken internal damage. Giovanni hits with the force of a pile driver. Even with steel abs, the kinetic energy has to go somewhere. Usually, it goes into the organs."
Mr. Falk mimicked a punching motion in slow motion.
"But Isaac... you didn't stand still. You rolled."
Mr. Bombacci frowned. "He didn't move his feet. I would have seen it."
"Not his feet. His core," Mr. Falk explained, his eyes locked on mine.
"At the exact moment of impact and I mean the millisecond of contact, Isaac contracted his rectus abdominis and retroverted his pelvis by maybe two degrees. He created a vacuum of space, collapsed his structure backward to match the velocity of your fist, and then dispersed the energy through his obliques and down into his legs."
He looked at Mr. Bombacci. "You didn't hit a wall, Giovanni. You hit a wave. He let you punch him, but he controlled exactly how much of that punch actually landed."
Mr. Bombacci looked at his own fist, then at me, looking betrayed. "You... you rolled my punch? While standing still?"
"It is a technique called 'Redirection via collapse,'" Mr. Maximiliano added, seemingly agreeing with the assessment. "It requires timing that borders on precognition."
Mr. Falk nodded. "And the reason he did it? He could have dodged. He's clearly fast enough. He could have blocked it. But he chose to take the hit."
Mr. Falk tilted his head, studying me like a particularly interesting bug.
"He took the hit because he wanted to be friends with you, Giovanni. If he dodged, you would have been annoyed. If he blocked, you would have seen it as a challenge. But by taking it, and smiling? You respected him. He manipulated the physical interaction to achieve a social outcome."
The silence in the circle was different this time. It wasn't in awe this time. It was wariness.
"So..." Mr. Montreal said slowly. "You're saying Isaac is... what? On her level?"
"In terms of raw destruction? No," Mr. Falk admitted. "Milicia is a nuke. But Isaac..." He pointed a lazy finger at my chest. "He's the bunker. Milicia breaks physics. Isaac cheats them. If they fought... well, that would be the only show worth watching in this entire school."
I sighed, letting my shoulders drop in a gesture of exaggerated defeat, though albeit feigned, so that Adrien wouldn't try to latch onto me, since I was more worried about that than this secondary interrogation. "You give me far too much credit, Mr. Falk. I simply have good reflexes and a high pain tolerance. My mother used to say I was built like a rubber band."
It was merely a theory on Mr. Falk's part, even on observation when it comes to the physical analysis in a fight scenario, you still need proof to back up the claim.
Although, that theory is about to no longer be a theory shortly I fear.
"Your mother raised a combat pragmatist," Mr. Falk deadpanned. "But fine. Keep your secrets, Magician. Just know that 1.5 percent of Milicia is enough to kill a normal person. And you..." He poked my chest again. "You aren't normal."
"Are we all not normal considering we are at this school? Can we please stop talking about me being a combat pragmatist?" I asked, looking around the group. "I prefer 'pacifist with durability'."
"Sure, Lord Apollo," Adrien beamed. "Whatever you say."
I turned to look at Marie and whispered. "Marie, I'll be going to my friend Leonid to see how he is doing and to see if his soul is back."
"Are you crazy?! Leaving me with these animals? They'll eat me alive!" She whispered dramatically.
"You'd be surprised if you put enough effort into trying to socialize, like with Mr. Alexandrescu, Mr. Falk, and even Mr. Maximiliano, I believe you'll find more in common with them than you imagine."
I reasoned with her, I believe if she did put in the effort, then she'll become quite friendly with others that are like her and would appreciate her insight.
And it would help her be less lonely, and would perhaps decrease her problem with herself.
"… are you sure…?"
You'll be a stuttering mess, but you'll pull through.
I offered a reassuring smile. "Of course." I patted her shoulder as I distanced myself and then I turned my attention back to the fallen soldier Leonid as I made my way to him and where my other classmates were, leaving Marie to fend for herself in the wilderness of Class H to try and befriend a new kindred.
"Is he… You know, still alive…?" Arabella Vexley(Rank 194), who had shoulder length straight hair that had a mix of red and green colors and she had hazel eyes, asked Miss. Winchester with genuine concern and nervousness.
"He is breathing…" Miss. Winchester announced, her voice carrying the clinical detachment of a seasoned surgeon despite the chaotic environment. Her hands, delicate and pale, hovered over Leonid's back with a precision that betrayed her introduction as merely a student.
Although I did hear a slight tremor in her voice despite her trying to remain calm.
Miss. Winchester continued. "The impact caused a momentary synaptic discharge in his spinal column, although that should be expected from a localized shock to the thoracic vertebrae."
"So he is paralyzed?" Mr. Beckham asked.
"I'd be surprised that he isn't…" Adrien who was behind Mr. Beckham whispered.
"No," Miss. Winchester corrected, her eyes narrowing as she palpated the muscle groups around Leonid's spine. "His muscular density saved him. Had he been any less conditioned, his spine would have snapped like dry kindling. As it stands, he is merely in excruciating pain. His ego, however, is likely in critical condition."
Leonid on his part, groaned into the floorboards, a sound of pure unadulterated misery.
"I can walk…" he rasped, trying to push himself up.
"Don't be an idiot, Leonid," Miss. Lehi scolded, crouching beside him. Her purple eyes scanned him not with worry, but with a critical assessment of his durability. "You just got hit by a hypersonic sneaker. But it's pretty impressive that you are still alive from that, so stay down."
I agreed with Miss. Lehi, it was pretty impressive, however since Mr. Falk said only Milicia used 1.5 percent of her prowess, that would mean that Leonid could not and would not be able to withstand Milicia's strength that goes beyond 1.5 percent. Which goes to show how scary Milicia is physically even when she is not serious.
And the fact that Miss. Bosque hugged Milicia with full force earlier and she was able to break out of it with no effort, which means that Miss. Bosque is no match for a serious Milicia or even a 2 percent…
"I... am fine..." Leonid gritted out, forcing his trembling arms to lift his torso.
Miss. Winchester sighed, a soft, exasperated sound, and placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. It was a subtle gesture, but my eyes caught the way her fingers lingered on the trapezius muscle, a fraction of a second longer than necessary for medical stabilization. And her gaze... it wasn't just clinical. It was appreciative.
Interesting, I thought, filing this away in the library of my mind. Viviana Winchester, the medical prodigy of Class H, harbors a fascination for broken things that endure. Leonid's resilience appeals to her. She doesn't just want to fix him, she also admires the fact that he requires fixing. A nurse's compassion mixed with a scientist's curiosity.
"Let him up," Miss. Famala said, crossing her arms. "If he wants to pretend he's Superman, let him. Men and their pride."
I looked at Miss. Famala. "I don't think it's because of his masculine pride, I believe it's more or so his stoic discipline that he himself is trying to adhere to, and since stoicism is about discipline of the self and that also requires control of the self. He doesn't want to give Milicia the satisfaction of seeing him in pain." I explained to her.
It was in a way, my way of showing respect and defending Leonid despite the display of physical difference between him and Milicia.
Even though that is the surface-level mask of Leonid Novikov, it was to make sure his real self is an inferior narcissist was not shown, since his real self is not meant to be displayed to anyone just to serve as humiliation for Leonid, he doesn't deserve it no matter how stubborn he is.
In fact, if anything, I think he can break away from the inferior narcissism, if there was a new motivation and resolve for him that didn't revolve around Milicia.
I glanced at Miss. Winchester, as the solution entered my mind.
And I believe I found the answer to that, a guardian angel.
Leonid glanced at me, and despite not doing his usual glare or stern look of a teacher at me, his gaze was a thankful one despite his expression not changing.
No Leonid, I should be thanking you for what you did for me since you got flustered when you were in the locker room…
As he was able to get up and limp on his own to the other side of the gym to have some time alone to fully collect himself, the gym's atmosphere was heavy, vibrating with the residual energy of Milicia's display.
But while everyone was focused on the physical aftermath, my attention shifted to the social fracture that was beginning to form.
I then looked to my other side as I saw Miss. Naomi, her hands clenched into fists. She was trembling, not from fear, but from indecision.
I had been watching her since yesterday. The way she navigated the classroom, collecting numbers with that bright, idol smile. The way she organized her contacts. The questions when she asked about scheduling.
She had a plan, a plan that was a collective contract.
She didn't know that Miss. Mussolini had already beaten her to it in Class D. Miss. Naomi genuinely believed she was the first to conceive of uniting a class against the school's individualistic nature. She thought she could be the savior.
It was a noble, futile thought. And it was doomed to fail.
Class H, like Class A, was a collection of hyper-individualist misfits. We are not a unit that could function at all, we were a bag of jagged rocks shaking rocks, especially since Class H is at the bottom and none of us wants to graduate to live as 'trash' the school calls it. Also considering the hostility with our classmates like Milicia and Leonid, and Marie with the rest of the class.
But Miss. Naomi needed to try. And most importantly, I wanted to see Milicia of what she is like when she reached a breaking point, or at least a state where she is in a hostile state since making her genuinely angry would be a difficult task to reach.
I stepped closer to Miss. Naomi, my movement silent, my presence shifting to that of a comforting shadow.
"You have something to say to her, don't you, Miss. Naomi?" I whispered, my voice a soft balm amidst the tension.
Miss. Naomi jumped slightly, turning her wide eyes to me. "Isaac... I..."
"I noticed," I continued, keeping my tone warm and encouraging. "Yesterday. You went to everyone. You asked for their contact information, not just for socialization, but for organization. You were taking notes on their strengths. You have a vision for this class, Miss. Naomi. A way to protect us."
Her eyes filled with a sudden, desperate hope. "You... you figured that out?"
"It is in your nature," I said, offering her a serene smile. "You are an idol. You bring people together. You create harmony from noise. And right now..." I glanced at Milicia, who was laughing with Miss. Bosque, completely unbothered by the violence she had just inflicted. "Right now, we are just noise. If we don't unify, if we don't have a structure... People like Leonid will keep getting hurt. Someone has to stand up to the chaos. Someone has to offer an order."
Naomi looked at Milicia, then back at me. "But... she's..."
"She is powerful, yes," I agreed. "But power without direction is just destruction. You have the direction, Naomi. You have the plan. If you don't speak now, when the fear is fresh, when everyone is looking for an answer... you never will."
I lied. It wasn't the right time. It was the worst possible time. Milicia was high on adrenaline and arrogance. Confronting her now wasn't brave; it was suicidal. But I didn't need Naomi to succeed. I needed her to be the spark.
Miss. Naomi took a deep breath, her idol persona locking into place. The determination in her eyes hardened. "You're right, Isaac. Someone has to stop this."
She stepped forward, her voice projecting with the practiced clarity of a stage performer.
Yes, go now white sheep that sing with pink harmony.
I backed up to where I was where I see Marie talking to Mr. Falk who remained usually nonchalant and bored.
"It seems you are bonding, Marie." I said to her as she was startled by my coming back so soon.
"Hmpf, you barely missed much, we were merely talking about the principles of chaos the—"
"She was a stuttering mess." Mr. Falk bluntly said. "Very different from her demeanor during orientation day."
"I-I was not!" Marie retorted. "And for the record, I was in my moment…"
Before I could speak, a voice of Miss. Naomi yelled.
"Milicia!"
The gym went silent again. Milicia turned slowly, her grin widening as she saw the idol marching toward her.
Even Coach Bogard, who still had the same expression but looked like he was about to call someone, halted as if not expecting another confrontation but still had an amused expression with a raised brow.
"Oh? The pop star speaks?" Milicia asked, tilting her head. "Want an autograph? Or perhaps you want to see if my other shoe fits?"
"I want you to stop acting like a tyrant," Miss. Naomi declared, stopping five feet from the demoness. "We are classmates. We are supposed to be in this together, despite this place trying to have us be divided. This violence... attacking Leonid, intimidating everyone... It's counterproductive. We need to be united, not at war with ourselves."
Milicia blinked, genuinely amused. "United? With who? You? The coward over there bleeding? Don't make me laugh, Jun. Sheep unite because they are afraid of the wolf. I am not a sheep."
"We are not sheep!" Miss. Naomi argued, her voice rising. "I have a plan. A contract. If we pool our resources, if we coordinate our Ruby Points and manage our Requiem spending as a collective, we can ensure that no one in Class H falls behind. We can rise together. We can challenge the upper classes not as individuals, but as a force!"
The appeal would work on anyone, however Miss. Naomi, it is too idealistic. You are appealing to the morality of a creature who sees morality as a shackle.
"A contract?" Milicia laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You want to bind me to a contract with... trash? You want me to carry the dead weight of most of these losers? You think because you sing pretty songs you can command me?"
Any narcissist would feel offended by what Miss. Naomi suggested, but in the psychology of Milicia, she is only amused, since she has no reason to be offended by someone who is below her. A passionate moralist with a socialist view is the perfect antithesis to Milicia Milosevic.
And that is why…
"It's not a command, it's logic!" Miss. Naomi insisted. "If we fight each other, the school wins! We need—"
"I don't need anything from you," Milicia snarled, her amusement vanishing, replaced by a cold, sharp annoyance. "And I certainly don't need a lecture on strategy from a girl whose greatest achievement is wearing a skirt and smiling for cameras. You are a product, Jun. A manufactured doll. You don't have a will, you have a script, nothing more nothing less."
…Naomi Jun is the perfect one to induce Milicia into a state of amusement mixed with malice, it'll make Milicia decide to make an attempt to put Miss. Naomi into her place.
Miss. Naomi flinched as if slapped. "That's not true! I worked hard—"
"Hard?" Milicia stepped forward, her presence expanding, suffocating the air around her. "You don't know 'hard'. You only know rehearsal. I know survival. I know dominance. You want to lead? You want to create a 'collective'? Make me."
"I..." Miss. Naomi faltered, the fear finally piercing through her resolve.
"Make. Me." Milicia took another step. "Or are you going to sing me to submission?"
"That is enough, Milicia."
The voice was archaic, calm, and carried a weight that stopped Milicia in her tracks. Mr. Maximiliano stepped out from the group of boys, removing his glasses and placing them carefully in his pocket.
"You have made your point," Mr. Maximiliano said, his eyes closed, his posture relaxed yet ready. "Bullying the idol is beneath even you."
"Oh?" Milicia turned to him, her eyebrows raising. "The calculator speaks. Finally found your variables, Leonidas?"
"Hey," a lazy, jagged voice cut in. Miss. Lehi stepped up beside Mr. Maximiliano, she cracked her neck, the sound loud in the quiet gym. "I don't care about the idol or the contract. But I'm getting really tired of your voice, Milicia. For a tyrannical bitch, you talk a lot for someone who throws shoes."
Miss. Lehi strikes me as interesting, since she was the only one who didn't introduce herself properly, since all she did was say her name and hold up her middle finger during Orientation day.
And the fact that she chose to step in means that she is doing it because she knows what is coming and wants to fight for the love of it, or she is someone who values her freedom than anything, and having someone like Milicia, who understandly can be viewed as a tyrant, and there was Miss. Naomi, and Miss. Lehi in her mind thinks that she is incapable of leading the class in this hyper-individualist world and it was evident to Miss. Lehi due to the fact that Miss. Naomi is showing fear shows to Miss. Lehi that Miss. Naomi lacks the will to act as a leader up against a tyrant in the making.
Since Miss. Lehi to join in the fight, shows that she shows no interest of being anyone's subordinate or plaything, and she will use this fight to prove her philosophical point.
She truly is a prodigy of anarchy. Someone who values freedom and against any form of state control regardless of the intent.
In a way, I can relate to that.
Of course, I believe there are many who would join like Miss. Bosque, Mr. Bombacci, Miss. Perez, and Miss. Dolfuss specifically, but at the same time, I knew they would not join.
How am I so confident in this? because, Miss. Bosque has already accepted Milicia to be superior in not only strength, but also psychologically. Miss. Bosque follows the principle of the Rule of Combatants, or in simplified terms, Social Darwinism of the strength of mind and body.
Miss. Bosque was impressed by Milicia's strength and speed from her shoe throw, so she decided to hug Milicia with her full strength to see if Milicia would struggle, show fatigue, or even break psychologically due to the physical pressure. But Milicia exceeded those expectations by effortlessly breaking out of Miss. Bosque's death hug and showing no fatigue or fear, only amusement. That is when Miss. Bosque recognized a superior to her, therefore will not fight Milicia who could overpower her, another thing to note is that Miss. Bosque would never get angry at someone who she deems the superior alpha lion, hence why she didn't step in to fight with Milicia, since Milicia did not order Miss. Bosque too.
The same can be said for the likes of Miss. Perez and Mr. Bombacci who either feared or respected Miss. Bosque and given how they saw Milicia overpower her, they also recognized her as an unstoppable force in their eyes and saw that stepping up to Milicia, is the most irrational option.
As for the wildcard and also the one that slanders me with media coverage known as Miss. Dolfuss is following up with my hypothesis that she and Mr. Maximiliano is that despite Miss. Dolfuss is clearly tempted to want to fight Milicia, she can restrain herself because she likes to be unpredictable without showing herself in broad daylight.
And as for why not the others is quite simple.
People like Mr. Shoi, Mr. Alexandrescu, Marie, and Mr. Falk are rational individuals, they already acknowledged that stepping in would not help, but worsen the situation.
Mr. Beckham, Adrien, Mr. Mercado, Mr. Fajr, Mr. Moon, Mr. Miroslav, Mr. Montreal, Miss. Famala, Miss. Vexley, and Mr. Faust are already intimidated, and or afraid of Milicia and see stepping in as a fate to death.
And Miss. Winchester is still preoccupied with Leonid's condition despite his persistence that he is fine, but even then they know when not to intervene after seeing what Milicia displayed.
And that is why, Miss. Lehi and Mr. Maximiliano are the most perfect ones suited for this situation, since it aligns with them perfectly. Miss. Lehi rejects the dichotomy of control of the Milicia and Miss. Naomi, so she introduces herself as the antithesis of control by fighting Milicia and at the same time rejecting Miss. Naomi's collective contract planning. And Mr. Maximiliano joined in because he is the antithesis of Miss. Dolfuss's chaos, so he is the one for intellect, stability, and direct confrontation, and he wants to defuse the situation as efficiently as possible, even if he has to fight.
So I wasn't surprised that those two stepped up for different reasons.
Miss. Lehi spoke once more but in a raspy tone with a grin as she took off her own gym jacket revealing her own upper body, which showed her well toned muscular arms that weren't bulky and her tight abs that were chiseled to a level that only a martial arts master can achieve, and she was wearing a sports bra that held her assets well. "I like the boldness from you Milicia, but," She paused as she stuck out her middle finger and opened her mouth as she stuck her tongue out and put her middle finger on it. "I really hate tyrannical bitches that act like bimbos, like you."
her tongue flicking the middle finger in a gesture so delightfully crude it felt like a declaration of war against the concept of etiquette itself.
The gym, previously a cathedral of stunned silence following Leonid's execution by footwear, erupted into a cacophony of whispers and gasps. Miss. Lehi stood there, her torso a roadmap of violence and discipline. Unlike Milicia's sleek, engineered perfection or Miss. Bosque's titan-like mass, Miss. Lehi's physique was… dense. It looked like corded wire wrapped around iron, scarred and functional.
"Holy…" Mr. Moon whispered, his eyes wide. "Look at her serratus anterior. That's not gym work. That's combat conditioning."
"She looks… incredible," Miss. Famala murmured, her voice barely audible, though my ears picked it up effortlessly. I glanced over to see a distinct, crimson flush painting her cheeks as she stared at her friend's exposed back.
"You're drooling, Areli," Miss. Perez noted, her tone dry but her eyes equally fixated on Miss. Lehi's stance.
"Shut up, Camila! I am appreciating the aesthetic of anarchy!" Miss. Famala hissed back, though she didn't look away for a second.
"Bimbo?" Milicia repeated the word, tasting it. Her grin didn't falter, if anything, it sharpened. "You have a foul mouth for someone with such a small stature. Do you think acting like some mediocre anarchist makes you intimidating? It will just make you far easier to break."
"Try it, plastic," Miss. Lehi retorted, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Her stance was fluid, no, it was formless. Her hands hung low, her shoulders loose. It was the stance of someone who trusts their reflexes more than a guard.
"Stop this!" Miss. Naomi cried out, stepping between the two forces of nature, her arms spread wide in a desperate, futile attempt to shield the world from the collision. "Please! We are classmates! We shouldn't be fighting!"
"Move, idol," Milicia said, her voice dropping an octave. "Or you become collateral."
"Jun, step aside."
Mr. Maximiliano walked past Miss. Naomi, gently guiding her out of the line of fire with a hand on her shoulder.
"But Leonidas! They're going to kill each other!" Miss. Naomi pleaded, her eyes wet with frustration.
"No," Mr. Maximiliano said, his archaic voice calm, almost soothing. "They are going to establish a hierarchy. Words have failed, Jun. The currency of this negotiation is now violence. To intervene is to devalue the transaction. Let them conclude business."
"Business?!" Miss. Naomi looked at me, begging for support. "Isaac! Tell them!"
I offered her a sad, serene smile, shrugging my shoulders helplessly. "I am afraid Mr. Maximiliano is correct, Miss. Naomi. Sometimes, the storm must break before the sky can clear. To stop it now would only delay the thunder."
Go on, Mr. Maximiliano. Show me what the Victorian calculator can do.
Miss. Leonidas stepped into the space between Miss. Lehi and Milicia. "I will take the first dance, Zisel. I wish to verify a variable."
Miss. Lehi snorted, stepping back but keeping her eyes locked on Milicia. "Be my guest, professor, I always prefer finishing up by taking out the trash. Try not to get folded."
Milicia looked at Mr. Maximiliano, her head tilting. "You? You want to dance with the devil, calculator?"
"I merely wish to solve the equation," Leonidas replied. He assumed a stance that was as old as it was effective, a bare-knuckle boxing mixed with the low center of gravity of Greco-Roman wrestling.
Milicia didn't even take a moment to let Mr. Maximiliano get the first move as she launched at him.
It wasn't the sonic boom of the shoe throw, but the floorboards groaned under her sudden acceleration. She threw a straight right, a simple, brutal punch aimed at Mr. Maximiliano's chest.
Mr. Leonidas didn't dodge, instead, he pivoted. His left hand parried the wrist, guiding the force past him, while his right hand shot out, not a fist, but a palm strike aimed at her floating ribs. It was precise. It was perfect, it was expected from Mr. Maximiliano.
Thud.
Milicia didn't even blink. She absorbed the hit, her torso twisting slightly to trap Mr. Maximiliano's arm between her arm and her side.
"Gotcha," she purred.
"Incorrect," Mr. Maximiliano whispered.
He dropped his weight, turning the trap into a lever, using her own clamping force to pull her off balance. For a split second, the unstoppable force teetered. It was a masterful display of physics manipulation.
Then, Milicia simply… stopped moving.
She planted her feet. The floor cracked. She looked at Mr. Maximiliano, her eyes glowing with a terrifying, playful light.
"Is that it?"
She flexed.
It wasn't a technique.
It was an explosion of raw power. Leonidas was thrown back as if he had tried to wrestle a hydraulic press. He skidded across the floor, his shoes leaving black streaks, stopping only inches from my feet.
He stood up, dusted off his gym pants, and retrieved his glasses.
"Ten percent," Mr. Maximiliano announced calmly, putting his glasses back on. "You escalated to ten percent physical output to break the leverage."
"And?" Milicia asked, unimpressed.
"And that is my limit," Mr. Maximiliano bowed slightly. "I can calculate the trajectory of a bullet, Milicia. I can dismantle a strategy in seconds. But I cannot fight an avalanche with an abacus. I yield."
"Coward! Just like Leonid," Milicia scoffed, but she looked disappointed. "Boring!"
"Finally that calculator gave up," Miss. Lehi stepped up, cracking her knuckles. "My turn to take out the trash."
The air shifted. Mr. Maximiliano relied on calculations and the arts of archaic discipline to go against Milicia in a physical fight, which made him predictable against Milicia in a fight.
However, Miss. Lehi was different.
Miss. Lehi didn't wait for a second to let Milicia make the first move, Miss. Lehi did instead.
Miss. Lehi's style was… mesmerizing. It was a library of violence. One moment she was utilizing the knee strikes of Muay Thai, the next she was flowing into the ground-based evasion of Capoeira, spinning on one hand to deliver a heel kick that Milicia actually had to block.
Bam!
Milicia's forearm met Miss. Lehi heel. The impact sound was sharp, like a gunshot.
"Oh, you're much better than that calculator!" Milicia laughed, grabbing at Miss. Lehi leg.
Miss. Lehi retracted the limb with the speed of a striking cobra, shifting instantly into a Krav Maga disengage, stepping into Milicia's guard and landing a rapid-fire combination of a jab, cross, and elbow to Milicia's sternum.
Pop-pop-crack.
Milicia stumbled back half a step.
The class gasped. Even Mr. Falk opened his eyes slightly than they already were, not expecting Miss. Lehi to hold her own against Milicia.
"She… she moved her," Mr. Montreal whispered in disbelief. "She actually moved the mountain."
"Adaptability," I murmured softly, my eyes tracing Miss. Lehi's movements. "She isn't fighting Milicia's strength. She's fighting her rhythm."
Miss. Lehi was water crashing against a cliff. She knew she couldn't break the rock in one hit, so she was eroding it. She was faster than Mr. Maximiliano, stronger in raw output, and her endurance… she was breathing rhythmically, her heart rate barely elevated. She was my physical equal.
"You're very annoying!" Milicia shouted, swinging a backhand that would have decapitated a normal student. "I like you!"
Miss. Lehi didn't duck. She melted. She dropped into a full split, letting the fist pass millimeters above her hair, and simultaneously drove a double palm strike into Milicia's groin area, which was a very dirty, effective, and anarchic tactic.
Milicia hissed, jumping back. "You little shit!"
"Street rules, princess!" Miss. Lehi grinned, flipping back up to her feet. "No referees in the jungle!"
Milicia's grin returned, but it was different now. It was wider. Hungrier. She rolled her shoulders.
"Fifty percent," Mr. Falk annotated from the sidelines, his voice cutting through the tension.
Milicia moved. The speed increase was terrifying. She was no longer playing. She unleashed a barrage of blows, each one heavy enough to shatter concrete. Miss. Lehi parried, dodged, and weaved, but the sheer displacement of air was pushing her back.
"Ninety-five percent," Mr. Falk updated, leaning forward.
The gym floor began to vibrate. It wasn't a metaphor. The impacts of Milicia's steps were sending tremors through the foundation.
Miss. Lehi was being pushed to her limit. I could see the strain in her serratus muscles, the way her eyes widened slightly as she realized her adaptability had a ceiling when faced with overwhelming kinetic energy. She blocked a roundhouse kick, and I saw her slide five feet away, her shoes smoking.
"You're good, anarchist!" Milicia yelled, closing the distance in a blur. "But you still care too much!"
It was true, Miss. Lehi was fighting for something. She was fighting to prove a point, to defend her philosophy of freedom. She had a stake in the outcome. She had everything to lose.
Milicia? Milicia was fighting because it was Tuesday. She viewed this as a side quest. She had nothing to lose because she considered herself already above the concept of loss. And the fact that she even treats her own plan, Machina Genesis, as a side quest despite telling me it was her ambition, when in truth, she has no ambition because she has been the lion on top of the mountain for so long, she has nothing, no equal, no walls to truly crush.
Let's say if she did lose something, like control, then she has no actual reason to hold back.
And if that happened, she would be very dangerous that bordered on being actually unstoppable.
And that is precisely why, Miss. Lehi, despite her endurance and adaptability, will now lose against Milicia.
Milicia caught Miss. Lehi's punch caught it dead in her palm. The shockwave ruffled Miss. Lehi's hair.
"Game over," Milicia whispered.
She didn't strike, like Mr. Maximiliano, she pivoted instead, using Miss. Lehi's own momentum, a bastardized, overpowered version of an Aikido throw. She launched Miss. Lehi.
Miss. Lehi flew through the air, tumbling out of control, heading straight for the group of us boys and Maris, specifically, straight for me.
The throw was much faster than Milicia's shoe throw as Miss. Lehi was still bolting at me at a speed of Mach 3.5…
In exactly two seconds, I stepped forward, my movements fluid, and caught Miss. Lehi in my arms. I moved with the momentum, dispersing the kinetic energy through my legs and into the floor, coming to a gentle stop as I was moved at least four inches from where I was originally at.
Miss. Lehi blinked, looking up at me, her face flushed from exertion and the sudden intimacy, and completely intact as if being thrown at a speed of Mach 3.5 was nothing, but I did see one sweat on her forehead.
"You alright, Miss. Lehi?" I asked, my smile serene.
"I… yeah," she scrambled out of my arms, dusting herself off, looking furious, or perhaps flustered, but unharmed. "She cheats. That bimbo cheats physics."
"She does," I agreed. "But are you sure you are alright Miss. Lehi?" I asked again since she is my classmate and as a student, I should make sure my classmate is fine.
Miss. Lehi hummed and checked her body to see if anything was dislocated, broken, or if any bruising had formed and surprisingly her body was fine. "Yep!" She flashed a rebel smile. "But one thing is certain is that if that bimbo used even more of her strength, I would definitely be knocked out."
Miss. Lehi's wording is interesting, she states that she would get knocked out if Milicia kept using more of her strength despite the fact that Mr. Falk said that Milicia used Ninety-five percent of her strength, which means that even if Milicia went all out, the only thing that would happen to Miss. Lehi would be a knock out, not death or a coma, but a knock out.
She truly is a prodigy of endurance and martial arts that she could potentially withstand and survive a full power Milicia that could potentially March the potency of the Tsar Bomba.
"You really are a messy individual, Zisel." Mr. Falk bluntly stated but was impressed that Miss. Lehi held her own against Milicia.
"That's how you counter tyranny." Miss. Lehi retorted.
Miss. Famala immediately ran to Miss. Lehi with her gym jacket to give it back to Miss. Lehi. "Zisel! Are you okay?"
"Yeah yeah I'm fine," Miss. Lehi took her gym jacket back and put it on. "See? No harm done Areli."
Miss. Famala shook her head. "You could have died from that!"
"Keyword Areli, 'could' but I didn't." Miss. Lehi corrected as Marie spoke.
"She's right though, how did you not die? Or at least get heavily injured." Marie questioned as Miss. Lehi looked at her.
"When you value the discipline of endurance and mix it with the philosophy of freedom, you can endure anything, and I wasn't gonna let some tyrant bimbo in the making decide to take over me," Miss. Lehi explained as her determination did not waver despite being beaten by Milicia.
Miss. Famala sighed as she pulled Miss. Lehi went away and went to the wall that Miss. Winchester and Leonid are at, as she murmured. "Just be more careful…"
"Now who's next!" Milicia yelled, turning to the class. Her eyes scanned the crowd and landed on the only person who had dared to challenge her authority verbally.
Which was Naomi Jun…
"You," Milicia pointed. "You wanted to lead? You wanted to make a contract? Come sign it in blood."
Miss. Naomi froze. The blood drained from her face.
She was an idol, a performer. She wasn't a fighter.
"Milicia, please," Miss. Naomi whispered, stepping back.
"No more talking!" Milicia yelled as she reached down and rolled up her right pant leg.
The class went silent. Mr. Falk went perfectly still despite his usual boredom.
"Oh, dear," Mr. Falk whispered. "One hundred percent."
We saw it.
The muscles in Milicia's leg didn't just tense, they were being compacted. It looked like cables tightening under high tension. The vascularity popped.
She was preparing a siege weapon.
"She's going to kill her," Marie hissed, gripping my shirt. "Isaac, she's going to turn the idol into paste!"
Marie was right, with the way this was going, Miss. Naomi would most definitely die if Milicia's full strength made an impact on Miss. Naomi.
Not even Marie with her speed would be able to counter, if anything, she would be able to move Miss. Naomi, but Marie would not as she would use all of her strength to push Miss. Naomi away from not being hit, but Marie would be hit by Milicia, and she would not survive. I'm sure Marie knows this, hence why she hasn't made a single move to even try.
Milicia moved.
It wasn't speed.
It was teleportation.
She was in front of Miss. Naomi in a heartbeat. She pivoted on her left foot, her right leg chambering for a Scorpion Kick, a vertical strike aimed directly at Miss. Naomi's chin.
At 100% capacity.
This wasn't a kick.
It was, as I grimly hypothesized, the Tsar Bomba. It was a kinetic event that would atomize bone and liquefy the brain.
There was no gravitational pull, no flickering lights, just the raw, unadulterated promise of absolute destruction.
Miss. Naomi, too frozen to scream or move.
I moved.
I didn't run.
I didn't teleport.
I simply stepped into the space that existed between life and death. I grabbed Miss. Naomi by the back of her collar and pulled her behind me, stepping into the trajectory.
I didn't block, because that would end the performance.
I didn't dodge, because that would interrupt the performance, and the kick would manage to hit Miss. Naomi kills her due to Milicia's range and power shock.
I took it, because as a magician, I must continue with the performance I have started, because this was the outcome I was hoping for, to push Milicia to this limit with directly being the one responsible since the environment and conditions of this situation aligned perfectly with how everything facilitated Milicia's state that I desired. Even if this performance act leads to my death or not, I would still need to carry it on, it is the diligence and integrity of a magician after all, and a magician finishes the performance that he started no matter what.
That is the unmoveable perseverance of a magician.
CRACK!
Milicia's heel connected with my jaw.
The sound was like a tree snapping in a hurricane.
The force washed over me.
It was immense. It was the kind of power that should have torn my head from my shoulders. It vibrated through my skull, down my spine, rattling my teeth in their sockets.
But I didn't move.
I didn't stumble.
I didn't fall, because I became the bunker that Mr. Falk categorized me as.
I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, tearing the soft tissue.
The world stood still. Milicia's leg was still extended, her foot pressed against my jaw. Her eyes were wide, the malicious amusement freezing into something else.
I slowly turned my head back to center, pushing her foot away gently with my chin.
I smiled.
A serene, warm, calm, bloody smile.
I let the blood from my cheek pool in my mouth, then let it trickle down my chin, a stark crimson line against my pale skin.
"That…" I said, my voice calm, unaffected, despite the red mark forming on my jaw. "… Was quite a kick, Milicia."
…..