The theoretical class on Superheroes focused on their greatest current threat: the Dire Calamity.

"Dire" meant terror and unease. Thus, the Dire Calamity referred to disasters that plunged humanity into sheer panic—cataclysms beyond human resistance, shielded only by the innate power of Superheroes. If supervillains were poisoned blades lurking in shadows, the Dire Calamity was annihilation itself.

Notably, Mirror October shared an inextricable bond with the Dire Calamity. One reason he still lived today? Precisely because of this fateful tie.

"The Dire Calamity may be a creature or a natural disaster," the lecture continued. "Each appearance brings mindless, relentless assault. Nearly four years have passed since its first emergence—the very span in which Superheroes rose to secure their place today." Only Superheroes could stand against it—a truth carved from humanity’s painful losses. The white-haired lecturer’s face was grave. Even the most frivolous students sat upright, listening intently.

Four years ago, humanity faced utter despair: annihilation by the Dire Calamity, with no recourse. From that pitch-black void, Superheroes emerged as the final dawn. No wonder their status now soared, adored with fervent passion.

Hope in name. Despair in truth.

To others, those four years were merely a time of fear. To Mirror October, they marked a lifelong turning point.

Dire Calamity…

Mirror October’s fingers lightly traced his pale lips. A hint of reminiscence drifted through his crimson eyes. Those years were an epic saga of blood and valor. The earliest awakened heroes had no system—every clash with the Dire Calamity was a gamble with death.

What *was* the Dire Calamity?

The lecturer quoted A-Class Superhero Tianxia Piaohuo’s autobiography—a depiction all heroes deemed most accurate. Words glowed on screen in deep blood-red font, sending a chill through the room:

*"The first time I faced the Dire Calamity, I never imagined it would be an eight-kilometer sea beast.*

*The first time I faced the Dire Calamity, I never imagined it would be the World Serpent coiled beneath Granling Island.*

*The first time I faced the Dire Calamity, I never imagined it would be the primordial giant slumbering in Shadow London.*

*The first time I faced the Dire Calamity, I never imagined it would be Fafnir the Dragon ravaging Constantinople.*

*The first time I faced the Dire Calamity… I never imagined I—a hero—would tremble so badly I couldn’t stand straight. Shame burned through me."*

Those few lines left only silence and crushing weight. Online clips now showed Dire Calamities effortlessly "defeated" by heroes in flashy displays. But here? Raw, helpless terror from a hero’s own words.

"Leviathan. Ouroboros. Ymir. Fafnir…" Mirror October murmured the names of S-Class Dire Calamities he’d personally beheaded and torn apart. A faint, wry smile touched his lips. Tianxia Piaohuo was a rising star to him—but Mirror October had skimmed that autobiography. Heavy implications lingered. It hinted at the Superhero Administration’s injustice toward "him." Most shockingly, "his" end wasn’t a heroic death battling the Dire Calamity—as rumors claimed—but suicide. Netizens had debated it fiercely. That "him"? None other than Mirror October himself, once brilliant under another identity.

"Hm…? Big brother, what did you just say?"

Mumu, the freckled girl, blinked slowly, pulled from the projector’s glow. She didn’t grasp the weight of stories clinging to Mirror October—only felt his strangely captivating aura.

*That feeling…*

Like bittersweet anime beauty. Mirror October wasn’t the typical handsome guy; his elegance was ethereal, androgynous, every feature delicately refined. As a girl, Mumu felt utterly outshone.

"I meant the Dire Calamity names up there. Don’t you know them?" Mirror October’s mild surprise made Mumu duck her head, voice soft and hesitant.

Turns out, this insecure girl had been lost since becoming a Superhero trainee—resisting her power, alienated by the new world, never truly opening up. A tragic waste of heaven’s gift.

Mirror October studied her. She guiltily looked away, fingers twisting.

"You’re wasting your talent."

"Big brother, I…"

"Your path is yours alone. I’m not blaming you. Mumu—you *can* do better. I believe one day you’ll stand atop the stage, and your talent will lift it higher."

When insecurity meets admiration’s spark? Explosive potential. Mirror October never doubted it. He saw it now: Mumu’s timid eyes slowly filling with gratitude, with awe.

*She will.*

Break free. Become the butterfly.

"Ahem—you two in the back! Lower your voices," the lecturer called out, tapping the podium. "PDAs aren’t banned, and I’m not some bitter single guy—but you’re hurting the class’s fragile hearts!"

Good-natured laughter rippled through the room. Girls shot envious glances at Mumu’s flushed cheeks.

Misunderstood, Mirror October gave a wry smile. He opened his mouth to clarify—then caught Mumu’s gaze: wide, trembling, like a frightened fawn silently pleading.

Under the room’s watchful eyes, he stayed silent. And offered her a gentle, understanding smile.