The aftermath hit like a ripple.
Class Zero's name was everywhere.
Screens around the campus replayed the match over and over. Clips spread like wildfire—Evelyn's cyclone burst, Vyn's pressure-point takedown, Silas streaking through the sky like a golden comet. No commentary could keep up. People didn't even try to explain it anymore. They just stared, eyes wide, breath shallow.
Some tried to play it off.
"They probably used some temporary buffs," one girl said, arms crossed.
"Nah, that wasn't normal," her friend whispered. "I was at the dome. That wasn't temporary. That was pure skill."
In the lounges and dorms, upperclassmen huddled around projections and paused frame-by-frame. Tactical breakdowns were being formed. Counter-strategies drafted. Everyone was doing the math.
If Class Zero could do that as first years, what would they be like in a month?
"They can't all be that strong," said a boy from Sector Eight. "That Lucian guy didn't even fight."
