Nineteen-year-old Seven was still in the seventh year.
That hadn't changed.
Ros and 77 advanced to Sixth Year, Class Three. Their student IDs shifted forward, records updated, and the roster was rearranged. When the corridor screens scrolled, there was no special notification tone—just data reordering itself.
The opening ceremony was canceled.
The bulletin boards were replaced with a new notification interface. Information about the principal's replacement was pinned to the top—no explanation, no accompanying address. At the same time, schedules were updated. Ability training classes were moved to Monday through Friday afternoons, and Saturday mornings. Sunday was not guaranteed to be a rest day.
The cafeteria menu changed in sync. Vitamin supplements were listed as fixed provisions. Some solid staples were replaced with liquid meals. New markers appeared in the tray area, with nutritional ratios precisely labeled.
A chief supervisor was added to ability training.
Sixth Year, Class Three gained an additional student ID.
Number 33.
It hadn't existed before.
No explanation.
—
Monday afternoon.
The thousand-meter run ended.
The formation didn't disperse. It turned directly toward the experimental building.
Sweat hadn't fully evaporated. When the wind swept in from the edge of the field, it carried a chill. Breathing hadn't completely stabilized. Footsteps on concrete sounded heavier than usual.
No one spoke.
The doors to the experimental building opened early.
The glass reflected slightly disordered silhouettes. The lighting was pale—colder than the teaching buildings. The air carried the scent of disinfectant.
Everyone entered in sequence.
Inside, echoes were compressed. Footsteps no longer spread outward—they were cut off by the sound-absorbing ceiling.
The space was clearly divided. Grades separated into designated zones.
The chief supervisor stood outside the observation window.
One meter eighty tall. Military combat uniform. Sleeves tightly fastened. Skin tanned deep brown. Blonde hair carried a cold sheen under the light. Facial lines sharp. No expression.
He stood perfectly straight.
No recording.
No speaking.
Only watching.
The moment the students entered the field, they realized something.
He was an ability user.
That was different from before.
Previously, the administration did not participate in ability execution—they only evaluated.
Now, supervision itself carried suppressive force.
The pressure inside the field seemed to drop by a layer.
Seven stood at his assigned position.
Posture unchanged.
The earpiece rested against his ear, channel open.
The signal light flickered faintly.
Training began.
The fluctuation of abilities in the air surged rapidly.
A voice came through the earpiece.
"Number 27 unstable."
Seven responded, "Received."
His steps were not hurried.
He walked toward 27.
27's breathing was already uneven. Shoulders twitching. Fingers trembling. The air around him showed slight distortion.
Seven stopped.
Arms extended.
A barrier spread.
Not explosive—flattening.
The air expanded outward half an inch, then stabilized.
27's ability fluctuations were contained.
The distortion gradually weakened.
Breathing slowed.
Sweat slid down his jaw.
Stabilized.
Seven withdrew the barrier.
Turned.
The earpiece sounded again.
"122, 178, 87 unstable."
Lower-year section.
"Received. Heading to 122 first."
He changed direction.
122 was on his knees, fingertips touching the ground. Ripples spread across the floor, expanding outward.
Seven approached.
Barrier deployed again.
The air tightened.
122's ability was sealed at the edges.
The ripples stopped spreading.
Breathing gradually returned to normal.
At that moment—
A crisp snap of fingers.
The sound compressed inside the building into a short rebound.
178 froze.
The next second, he collapsed.
No struggle.
No diffusion of fluctuations.
Clean. Direct.
A brief intake of breath rippled along the outer field.
Some looked up.
Their gazes aligned toward the observation window.
The chief supervisor lowered his hand.
Expression unchanged.
Seven glanced up for a moment.
The other's gaze was steady.
Seven gave a slight nod.
No pause.
He turned directly toward 87.
87 was already at the edge of losing control.
The temperature in the air had risen slightly.
Seven stepped beside him.
Barrier deployed for the third time.
At that moment, the chief supervisor's gaze fixed on the edge of Seven's barrier.
The suppression structure was clear.
Layered.
Fluctuations smoothed.
87 stabilized.
Training continued.
—
The air did not return to its initial balance.
The aftereffect of that snap lingered.
Students' breathing rhythms showed subtle disorder.
Some exchanged glances.
A supervising ability user had intervened personally.
That had never happened before.
Previously, administration issued commands.
Now, force intervened directly.
178 was carried away.
Quickly.
No explanation.
Training did not pause.
The earpiece fell silent again.
Seven returned to his position.
His sweat had cooled.
Behind the glass, the combat uniform remained rigid.
Blonde hair barely moved under the cold light.
Students began to restrain their output.
No longer overextending.
Some deliberately lowered their peak.
Some terminated release early.
The fluctuations in the air dropped by half a level.
This wasn't an order.
It was instinct.
When supervision holds power, rules are no longer just words.
The residual tremor of the barrier lingered in Seven's palm.
He didn't shake it off.
Didn't take a deep breath.
He simply stood.
Occasional static passed through the earpiece.
No new instructions.
The chief supervisor's gaze moved slowly.
Sweeping each section.
No extra motion.
But his presence weighed on everyone.
Some pulled back just before crossing limits.
Some pressed their lips tight.
Some stared at the ground.
178's position remained unfilled.
A trace of sweat remained on the floor.
No one mentioned it.
Training time was extended.
No one questioned it.
When the end signal finally came, there was no applause.
No relieved laughter.
Only synchronized breathing.
The formation dispersed.
When they exited the experimental building, the sunlight had shifted.
The air was warmer than inside.
Someone said quietly, "He's an ability user."
The voice vanished quickly.
No one responded.
Seven was the last to leave.
The chief supervisor still stood behind the observation window.
Their gazes met briefly.
No exchange.
Seven looked away.
Corridor light stretched their shadows long.
Footsteps echoed.
The academy's nature had changed.
Not a change written in announcements.
A change pressed into the air.
The students knew.
They could feel it.
Training increased.
Rest uncertain.
Supervision intervened directly.
No one said it out loud.
But the understanding had formed.
They had been moved closer to the observation layer.
Recorded.
Adjusted.
Verified.
Seven walked out of the building.
Breathing steady.
Steps straight.
No glance back.
The first day of training ended.
No one celebrated.
No one protested.
They simply understood.
From today onward, the rhythm no longer belonged to them.