Chapter 52: First Day of Class
Professor Jake’s first class had thirty students, one exploding desk, and a minor dimensional breach.
He considered it a success.
“Welcome to Practical Combat and Crisis Management,” he said, standing at the front of the reinforced lecture hall. The walls were scarred from decades of magical mishaps. The windows were unbreakable (supposedly). The chairs were bolted to the floor (necessarily). “I’m Professor Jake. You might know me as the guy with infinite mana. I’m also the guy who once accidentally blew up the training grounds while trying to heat up soup.”
A hand shot up. A first-year student, barely sixteen, with eyes like saucers. “Is it true you fought the Eraser?”
“Yes.”
“And saved reality?”
“Also yes.”
“And your best friend became the Weaver?”
“She did. And she’s watching this class right now, so please don’t embarrass me.”
The dimensional fabric rippled with what might have been laughter.
“This class isn’t about power,” Jake continued. “Every one of you has power. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. This class is about what to do when your power isn’t enough. When the monster is stronger, the crisis is bigger, and the odds are against you. Because that’s going to happen. I promise you, it’s going to happen. And when it does, what matters isn’t how much mana you have. It’s who you’re fighting for.”
He projected an image: the team photo from the Door quest. Jake, Null, Lyra, Pi, Epoch, Ink, Gerald, the Remnant. Seven beings who had no business fighting a cosmic annihilator, who had done it anyway because they cared about each other more than they feared the darkness.
“Your first assignment,” Jake said, “is to find a partner. Someone in this room you don’t know. You’re going to spend the next week training together, fighting together, failing together. By Friday, you will trust that person with your life. Because in this line of work, you’ll need to.”
The students shuffled nervously. Pairs formed. Alliances began.
Jake watched them and felt, with the warm certainty of someone who had found his calling, that this—teaching scared kids to be brave, powerful kids to be kind—was the most important thing he’d ever do.
Even more important than saving reality.
Because saving reality was a one-time achievement. Teaching the next generation to save it again? That was forever.