"Those with power should use that power for the betterment of society and humanity."
Arin grew up hearing those words from a young age.
Both of her parents were supernaturals who had spent half their lives on the front lines fighting monsters. To them, those words carried a particular weight.
Having parents with supernatural powers didn't guarantee that their children would inherit them, as abilities weren't passed down genetically. But Arin was born with them. Her parents always told her, "With great power comes great responsibility."
Arin found it hard to accept. What did power have to do with responsibility? Power was simply that—power. She hadn't chosen to obtain it, so why should she bear its burden?
At that young age, Arin grew tired of her parents' constant advice, hearing it so much that she felt she was getting calluses on her ears. She eventually started to rebel, even acting against their wishes on purpose.
She was a supernatural. Yet, she didn't understand the weight of what that term truly meant. To her, it was just being stronger than most people—no more, no less.
It wasn't until she was twelve that Arin began to comprehend that weight.
It was a day like any other. She had finished school, enjoyed ice cream with her friends, and walked home. They waved goodbye at the intersection, saying they'd see each other tomorrow. After all, if they met yesterday and today, surely they'd meet again tomorrow.
Humans are complacent, believing that their daily lives will continue unchanged. Without specific reason or evidence, people assume tomorrow will be just like today. They don't realize that this peace is a fragile illusion, ready to shatter at any moment.
It was her supernatural ability that first noticed something was wrong.
Arin's ability was "Crisis Detection." She could sense anything that posed a threat to her.
Twelve-year-old Arin stopped in her tracks, looking up at the sky. Her ability was sounding a warning like never before. She didn't know why, what, or where, but she trusted her instincts.
She ran with all her might to escape the range of danger. But even as her breathing grew labored, the danger persisted, and she realized that no matter how far she ran, she couldn't escape.
The entire city was in danger.
The warning noise from her ability grew louder, drowning out any other sound around her. Deafened by the cacophony in her head, Arin pressed her hands over her ears, terrified.
And then, at that critical moment, the sky cracked.
Like shattering glass, a void appeared in the sky. "Ah," she murmured unconsciously, a sound she remembers to this day.
As if rain were pouring down, monsters descended.
How could she forget that day—the horror, the disaster, the carnage? Screams erupted. Blood splattered. People died, were devoured, torn apart. Walls broke, buildings collapsed, utility poles toppled. People fell, fragmented, died, died, and died again.
For the first time in her life, Arin understood the weight of the term "Supernaturals." She finally grasped the meaning behind her parents' words.
She survived. Arin survived hell. She understood now why her parents had always emphasized the responsibility of those with power—because power comes with weight. That day, she knew she'd never be able to go back to the way things were.
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The final chimera golem collapsed.
Breathing heavily, Arin adjusted her grip on her spear. Using her "Crisis Detection," she predicted the golem's movements and launched attacks ahead of time. Her fighting style was flawless, favoring solid defense over sheer firepower. Every move the enemy made fell within her scope of prediction, and the battle was under her control.
She defeated eight golems simultaneously without sustaining even a scratch, but rather than satisfaction, she felt a pang of regret. She sensed her limits. While she could defeat a few more, any attempt to exceed her physical limits would compromise her safety.
"That's enough. Well done, Arin."
At Angelina's declaration, Arin gave a small bow before returning to her place.
She felt slightly disappointed.
"Thirteen golems, like that girl did... I guess that's still beyond me."
The first to go was Elsia. Remembering his performance, Arin bit her lower lip.
Having trained rigorously under her parents' guidance since childhood, she'd secretly thought she might be the strongest in Class A.
Now, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her overconfidence. What had made her so sure of herself? She'd assumed others wouldn't have trained as hard as she had.
She fanned her warm cheeks with a sigh.
This was the Academy.
Here, she realized she'd been a frog in a well, finally comprehending her narrow view.
Elsia could slice a chimera golem in one swift motion. Leo could throw rapid punches faster than the eye could follow. Anastasia could clone herself into a dozen duplicates, while Alice destroyed five golems in one blow with a terrifying heat beam. Each student was as strong as—if not stronger than—Arin herself.
She carefully observed the abilities of the other students, her classmates for the next year and, perhaps beyond that, her comrades in the fight against otherworldly monsters. She knew it was wise to assess their strengths and weaknesses.
Watching them closely, she found that only one student was left.
A boy with a cute, black-haired appearance who wielded a weapon that didn't seem to fit his image as he faced a wolf golem. His movements were large, with many openings, yet every strike landed with weight. His skill wasn't anything exceptional—perhaps a bit better than average.
But Arin knew it was too soon to conclude. She observed the boy's every subtle movement. The boy defeated the wolf, took down the gargoyle, crushed a knight, and ended up reaching the chimera that only a few students had confronted, but he encountered a mishap.
Crunch.
Arin's vision was painted red.
"...Huh?"
Blood splattered.
Despite the distance, Arin felt as if the blood had soaked her own skin
Reflexively, she bent over and clutched her mouth. The boy's expression twisted in pain. Arin recognized that look all too well—she'd seen it plenty of times. That day, that place, when monsters rained down on the city and devoured people whole.
The sound of chewing.
No, it was just her imagination.
Suppressing the bile rising in her throat, she forced herself to straighten up. It's different now, she told herself. She was strong now. So there's no need to be scared.
She had joined the Academy for a reason.
With effort, she raised her head. The chimera golem had vanished, and Angelina was checking on the boy. Fortunately, he was unharmed. Super regeneration—such was his ability.
The assessment ended, but the image of the boy's crushed shoulder wouldn't leave Arin's mind.
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Regenerative abilities healed any wound, allowing the body to always remain in peak condition.
However, the healing was quick, not painless. Injuries still hurt, and wounds caused suffering. Especially when a shoulder is shattered like that, the pain was unimaginable.
The boy, Leon, had spent the entire class drenched in cold sweat.
Now, fully healed, he held his shoulder and tried to steady his breathing.
Was it phantom pain? Arin found herself casting concerned glances toward Leon. She couldn't shake the sight of him falling, covered in blood, or his face twisted in agony. It must have hurt. It had to. Arin knew that feeling all too well.
Students at the Academy were expected to prepare for injuries. One couldn't become a true hero by fearing wounds while learning to fight otherworldly monsters. But accepting that fact didn't make it easier; people naturally hated pain.
Arin sighed. She knew, deep down, that her concern for Leon wasn't entirely pure-hearted. Her own trauma was resurfacing, stirred by Leon's plight. But that didn't mean her worry was wholly false.
As soon as class ended, the pale-faced Leon left the classroom as if fleeing. Arin had offered to walk with him, but she declined. Watching his retreating figure, Arin wore a bitter expression.
"Will he be okay...?"
Moving on from it wasn't easy. Wounds heal, but the pain lingers, clinging persistently. Arin knew this from experience. Overcoming it was up to the individual; there wasn't much she could do. At most, she could offer to listen.
"Though… I'm in no place to talk."
Arin shook her head slowly.
Crunch.
Somewhere, she thought she heard that sound again.
It's probably just an illusion.