"What do you want, Ben?" Zachary asked, his voice low and cold.
Ben raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. A slow, mocking grin spread across his face.
"Oh? Guess the dungeon changed your attitude too, huh?" he said, tilting his head slightly as if observing something entertaining.
Then—
He raised his hand.
Palm open.
And without hesitation—
Slap!
The sound echoed across the classroom.
A few students flinched.
Others leaned forward, expecting the usual outcome.
Ben laughed, shaking his head. "Pathetic," he said loudly, enjoying the attention.
But then—
His laughter stopped.
His eyes widened.
Zachary hadn't moved.
Not even slightly.
His head hadn't turned.
His expression didn't change.
It was as if the slap… never mattered.
Silence crept into the room.
Ben's grin slowly faded.
"…What?" he muttered.
Then—
Zachary moved.
He grabbed Ben's wrist.
Tightly.
"Ahh—!" Ben cried out instantly, his body jerking as pain shot through his arm. Zachary's grip wasn't just firm—it was crushing.
The difference in strength was overwhelming.
"L-let go—!" Ben struggled, trying to pull his hand back, but it didn't budge. Not even an inch.
Zachary's eyes met his.
Cold.
Unshaken.
"Impossible…" Ben stammered, his voice breaking slightly as panic began to creep in. "This is not p-possible…"
"I'm Combat class…" he continued, his pride cracking under pressure. "Level 9…"
But it didn't matter.
Not anymore.
Zachary's grip tightened just a bit more.
Ben's groans echoed across the classroom, loud and desperate as he tried to pull his wrist free.
"Ahh—! L-let go—!" he hissed, his face twisting in pain.
Then—
SLAM!
The door burst open.
"Students!" the teacher's voice rang sharply, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Everyone froze.
For a split second, all eyes were still on Ben—
On his struggling.
On his pain.
But then—
Something felt… off.
Zachary wasn't there.
Ben blinked, his wrist suddenly free, his body stumbling slightly from the lack of resistance.
Confusion flooded his face as he looked around wildly.
"W-what…?"
The class turned toward the teacher—
And then they saw him.
Zachary.
Already seated.
Quietly.
Calmly.
As if nothing had happened.
As if he had always been there.
"…What?" someone whispered under their breath.
"Sit down!" the teacher commanded, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Chairs scraped loudly as the students obeyed instantly.
All except one.
"Beckmann! Sit down, now!"
Ben flinched slightly, then lowered himself into his seat without a word.
His wrist rested awkwardly on the desk, still numb, still throbbing. His eyes, however, never left Zachary.
The teacher turned to the board, chalk tapping rhythmically as she began the lesson.
But no one was really paying attention.
Students kept glancing back at Zachary, their expressions mixed with confusion, curiosity… and unease.
Meanwhile—
Zachary simply wrote in his notebook.
Silent.
Unbothered.
As if the entire incident meant nothing.
But across the room—
Ben's face darkened.
His jaw clenched.
'How…?'
'How can this nobody… defeat me?'
The thought repeated over and over in his mind.
And it burned.