Villainous Me: Help! The heroines are yanderes!
Chapter 52: Combat what?[GTG]

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Combat what?[GTG]

Ryan patted his pleasantly full stomach as he and Helen strolled away from the cafeteria, their hands clasped together. They weren’t holding hands tightly, but there was a comfortable intimacy in the gesture.

The afternoon sun glinted off the towering structure ahead, a gleaming skyscraper that seemed to twist and turn all the way up to its peak. Its facade was made entirely of glass panels, creating a dazzling, and a more modern contrast to that of the capital of the empire from the other world.

"Wow," Ryan breathed, struck by the sight. It was similar to the grand structures he’d known, but with a certain unique flair that set it apart.

"This is where it all happens," Helen said with a smile, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she pulled him towards the building. "Combat class, at least on the second floor."

Understanding dawned on Ryan. No wonder so many students from his class were heading in this direction. He studied the building with newfound interest.

With a sigh, Ryan followed Helen, a comfortable silence settling between them. As they reached the entrance, the transparent glass doors slid open with a soft swish, and they stepped inside.

A kaleidoscope of colors greeted them. Students from other years milled about the hallways, likely on their way to their own combat lessons. The academy had three official classes, well, four technically. But the fourth-years were rarely seen, consumed by their final year missions that took up most of their school time. They were practically phantoms. Each class, however, had its own distinct uniform, creating a vibrant tapestry of diversity.

On a normal day, Ryan might have felt overwhelmed by the chaos. But with Helen’s enthusiastic hand pulling him along, they reached the elevator within minutes. As usual, it was crowded, forcing Ryan to hold onto Helen a little more possessively than he intended. He hadn’t realized it, but her friendliness was slowly chipping away at his defenses. He was falling for her.

A gentle ping announced their arrival. Ryan stepped out with the others, his hand still resting on Helen’s waist. Lost in her own world, she was completely loving this.

They shuffled towards the lone door at the end of the hall.

Someone pushed the door open, revealing a scene that left Ryan speechless. The room was enormous, reminiscent of a grand dojo, and packed to the brim with students. Multiple platforms served as arenas, and the sheer size of the space was awe-inspiring.

"Attention!" boomed a voice, cutting through the excited chatter. The room quieted instantly. "Organize yourselves before I help you with that!"

Everyone scrambled to form a line. Ryan found himself standing behind Helen, his gaze dropping when she purred teasingly in his ear. "Aww, aren’t you being a little possessive?" she whispered, her voice laced with a playful allure.

Caught off guard, Ryan flushed in embarrassment. "I just..." he stammered, unable to come up with a convincing explanation.

"Aww, are you shy now? So cute," she cooed before turning her attention back to the front.

Their exchange hadn’t gone unnoticed. The lower-ranked students, particularly, watched with a mix of envy and amusement, especially considering Ryan’s well-known lack of combat prowess.

"Now for the roll call," the booming voice echoed again. Standing before the rows of students was a bald man with an imposing build and ink-black eyes. His cruelty was almost a tangible presence, radiating from his menacing demeanor. He wore a black tank top and tracksuit pants, his massive physique dwarfing most of the students. He was a walking mountain of muscle.

"Alright, everyone seems to be present... wait, where is this... um, Luke. Luke Miller, are you here?!" he bellowed, consulting a tablet in his hand. "Humph! No response? Someone dares to miss my class? It seems I baby you all too much!" He roared, his voice dripping with fury, scanning the students with a predatory gaze.

A tremor of apprehension ran through the low-ranking students – or perhaps not everyone. But for most, the mere thought of his next move sent shivers dancing down their spines.

"There was something I was considering," he announced, his voice cutting through the nervous tension. "But I believe a more immediate approach is warranted." Without waiting for a response, he strode purposefully towards a peculiar contraption tucked into the corner of the chamber. A circular device, it pulsed with an otherworldly glow, mere feet from the desperate scramble of the final queue.

By now, curses were flying at Luke like hailstones in a hurricane. Vows of vengeance, whispered and fierce, promised a future filled with payback. After all, this man was notorious. Crippling injuries for minor infractions were his calling card, and infuriating him was practically a first-year initiation rite.

With a dramatic flourish, he slammed his hand onto the device. The air crackled with unseen energy, and the chamber itself seemed to warp and twist. One moment they were standing in the combat hall, the next they found themselves deposited in an entirely different realm.

Sunlight was conspicuously absent from this new environment, yet the room shimmered with an artificial brilliance. Rows of fluorescent lamps hung strategically from the high ceiling, bathing the space in a sterile, clinical glow. It was utterly devoid of character, save for the staggering display of weaponry littering everywhere, even on the floor.

Swords of all shapes and sizes gleamed ominously, staffs leaned against the wall like silent guardians, and daggers glittered with a malevolent promise. The sheer volume of armaments was enough to make even the most stoic student’s jaw drop.

"Ideally," the instructor’s voice boomed through the sudden silence, "you lot would only handle these after acquiring sufficient skill to avoid impaling yourselves. But as you’re all painfully aware," he drawled, a cruel glint in his eye, "your safety isn’t exactly my top priority."

A collective whimper rippled through the ranks. Some students wilted under his scathing words, while others, a smaller, more determined group, met his gaze with a spark of defiance. It was about time, after all.

"One weapon, and one weapon only," he continued, his voice sharp with authority. "Acquiring more will be a near-impossible feat, considering the astronomical prices these beauties command. Choose wisely, because mastering a weapon is no easy feat, and switching paths later is a pain you wouldn’t wish upon your worst enemy. Now, make your selections. Time is of the essence."