It was a circular ring-shaped object with a protruding antenna-like attachment, resembling a single-sided pair of glasses.

“What’s this…?” My gaze snapped to the item Teacher Ye pulled from the box—just like everyone else in class.

“This will accompany you for the next four years,” Teacher Ye said, holding it up for the class to see. She slid the circular part over her left ear, the front protrusion settling against her temple.

“I trust most of you have used AR before, so I’ll skip the basics. The manual covers it.”

“AR? This tiny accessory is AR?” I was surprised. Even now, AR wasn’t widespread—the tech was underdeveloped and highly restrictive.

Augmented Reality (AR) calculates camera positions and angles in real-time, overlaying images, videos, or 3D models to blend virtual and real worlds on-screen. Simply put, computers process your sensory input and feed it back, enriching daily life—even boosting interest in sports.

It felt eerily similar to some Monster abilities.

Yet due to technical flaws, AR never lived up to early hype and faded fast.

I never expected Heavenly Stand Academy to use it. Σ(°Д°;

“Our school runs on a credit system. Higher credits mean higher class rankings. And high rankings,” Teacher Ye paused, gathering weight, “bring unimaginable privileges.”

Silence swallowed the classroom after her words. Breathing hushed. The air turned heavy again.

“Outstanding students deserve superior resources. Inferior ones get eliminated in competition. This isn’t just my view—it’s our academy’s policy.”

Her tone hardened further, like fresh concrete and steel, without a trace of softness.

“…Eliminated? Teacher Ye, what does ‘eliminated’ mean exactly?” A boy in the middle raised his hand. At her nod, he stood, voice trembling.

“Hmph.” Teacher Ye gave a cold, ambiguous laugh. “Elimination means precisely what it says.”

“You mean… leaving? Leaving Heavenly Stand Academy?” The boy hesitated, face paling as if recalling something grim.

“A reminder,” Teacher Ye dodged his question. “Our university acceptance rate is one hundred percent. Why?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “Because inferior products get weeded out midway. Only the high-quality remain.”

“What! How?!”

“Lies! I thought getting in meant safety—how can this happen?”

“Impossible! I’ve never heard of expulsions midway…”

Murmurs of unease spread. Complaints buzzed low, their anxiety thick even when words blurred.

“Therefore,” Teacher Ye’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and loud, “I suggest you think carefully. Grades are the lowest metric here. The academy values abilities—all kinds of abilities.”

Forced silence fell. Students fidgeted, words trapped in their throats.

I casually scanned the room while attention drifted from me. A few faces stayed calm—utterly unchanged.

Including my seatmate, the class monitor, Xing Ye.

Hearing these near-cruel survival rules, I felt no panic. I wasn’t here to study—I was on a mission. Besides, these rules were mild compared to ours.

The training of us Demon Hunters is true hell.

But others? Their reactions?

My eyes landed on a boy two rows ahead and right. His expression unsettled me.

Pure surprise, excitement—even delight.

His raw, unguarded face laid his emotions bare, stirring discomfort in me.