SSS Class Awakening: I Can Forge My Beast Soul Avatars
Chapter 21: Ted the Fatty

Chapter 21: Ted the Fatty

Morning arrived far sooner than Atlas would have liked.

The quiet atmosphere of the Bronze Dormitory had gradually disappeared as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the large windows, spilling across the wooden floors and illuminating the four beds arranged neatly within the room.

For a brief moment, everything was peaceful. Then—

"Wake up!"

Atlas’s eyes snapped open as he immediately shot upright.

"What?!" His eyes darted around the room, searching for whatever threat had apparently invaded the dormitory.

Derrick stood beside his bed, his blue and black hair a complete mess.

His usually confident expression was nowhere to be seen, replaced by pure panic. "Get up! Get up! Get up!"

Atlas stared at him. "What’s happening?"

"He’s coming!"

"Who’s coming?"

"The Fatty!"

Atlas blinked. "...The what?"

From the opposite side of the room, Claus slowly lifted his head from his pillow.

"The Fatty," he repeated in a completely emotionless voice.

Atlas stared at him. "That doesn’t explain anything."

"It explains everything."

Eric, meanwhile, was standing beside his own bed, meticulously wiping down the surface of his desk with a small cloth. Atlas glanced at him. "Eric?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you cleaning?"

"Because it’s dirty."

Atlas looked at the desk—it was spotless. He narrowed his eyes. "There’s literally nothing on it."

Eric continued wiping. "That’s what makes dust so dangerous. You can’t always see it."

Atlas stared at him for several seconds. "...Right."

Derrick suddenly rushed past him, dragging his bedsheets into place. "Guys, seriously! Stop wasting time! Ted is making his rounds!"

Atlas looked at Derrick. "Okay, I’m going to ask again. Who exactly is Ted?"

Derrick froze, his eyes slowly widening. "You don’t know?"

"No."

"How do you not know?"

"I’ve been here for approximately twelve hours." Atlas yelled.

"Right..." Derrick slapped a hand against his forehead. "Of course. You’re new."

Claus rolled over in his bed. "Ted is the head disciplinarian assigned to the Iron and Bronze Dormitories. He conducts morning inspections — he checks whether students are awake, dressed, prepared for class, and maintaining their rooms properly. He also checks whether everyone is punctual."

Atlas nodded slowly. "Sounds reasonable."

Derrick stared at him as though Atlas had just said something incredibly stupid. "It’s not."

"Why not?"

"Because if your room isn’t clean enough, he’ll punish you."

Atlas paused. "How bad is the punishment?"

Derrick’s expression darkened. "Depends on how much he hates what he sees."

Atlas glanced around the room. Derrick was frantically stuffing stray clothes into his wardrobe, Eric was inspecting the corners of his desk for imaginary dust, and Claus was still sitting on his bed with the expression of a man who had already accepted his fate.

Atlas looked at them, then back at Derrick. "You guys are terrified of this man."

"No," Claus replied.

Atlas raised an eyebrow, prompting Claus to sigh. "Yes."

"Thought so."

Derrick suddenly pointed toward Atlas. "And you’re not helping!"

"How am I not helping?"

"Your side of the room!"

Atlas turned his head. His section of the dorm looked exactly as he had left it the night before: his blanket was loosely thrown across the bed, his shoes were lying beneath the frame, and his clothes from yesterday had been tossed over the wooden chair beside his bed.

"Oh," Atlas murmured.

Derrick looked like he was about to faint. "Oh?! That’s all you have to say?!"

"I didn’t know there was going to be an inspection."

"That’s because you arrived yesterday!"

"Exactly."

"Then start cleaning!"

Atlas sighed. "Alright, alright." He immediately jumped from his bunk and began gathering his belongings.

As he did, a thought suddenly struck him. Atlas froze, his eyes widening. He had completely forgotten the Soul Forge.

His head snapped toward the system interface that only he could see. A translucent brown screen immediately appeared before him:

[Forge Complete.]

[Congratulations, Host. Your first Beast Soul has been successfully forged.]

* Beast: Wolf

* Size: Medium

* Role: Scout

* Elemental Affinity: Shadow

* Additional Affinity: Bone

* Appearance: Greyhound

* Name: Unnamed

[Please name your Beast Soul.]

Atlas stared at the notification as the chaos of the room faded into the background.

’It’s done. My first beast... my first creation.’ The thought of finally seeing his creation brought a small smile to his face. ’I actually did it.’

"Atlas!" Derrick’s voice snapped him back to reality as the boy stood right in front of him. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yes."

"What did I just say?"

Atlas paused. "...Something important?"

Derrick’s eye twitched. "Ted is almost here!"

"Right."

"Then why are you just standing there?!"

Atlas glanced at the system notification.

’I’ll name him later.’ Dismissing the interface with a final look, he turned back to Derrick. "Alright. I’m cleaning."

He immediately began making his bed, prompting Derrick to release a breath of relief. "Thank God."

Claus glanced toward Atlas. "You’re taking this surprisingly well."

Atlas shoved his blanket beneath the mattress. "I’ve survived worse."

"You’re sixteen."

"...And?"

"Never mind."

The room descended into frantic activity. Derrick was practically tearing his wardrobe apart in an attempt to find something presentable. "Where is my other boot?!"

"Under your bed," Eric replied without looking up.

Derrick dropped to his knees. "How did you even know that?"

"I saw you kick it there last night."

"You could’ve told me!"

"You didn’t ask."

Derrick stared at him, but Eric calmly returned to polishing his desk. Meanwhile, Claus had finally decided to contribute: he picked up a shirt from the floor, stared at it, and threw it onto his bed.

Atlas glanced over. "That’s not cleaning."

"It is."

"How?"

"It isn’t on the floor anymore."

Atlas opened his mouth, then closed it. ’I don’t even have the energy to argue.’

A sudden, heavy footstep echoed through the dormitory corridor, and the entire room went silent.

Another step followed.

Derrick’s face immediately drained of color. "He’s here."

Atlas slowly turned toward the door. "That?"

"Yes," Claus said, sitting upright while Eric stopped polishing.

The footsteps grew louder, followed by a deep voice booming down the hallway: "BRONZE DORMITORY!"

Atlas blinked. "Why is he shouting?"

"Because he enjoys watching people suffer," Claus muttered.

"Students! Morning inspection begins in five minutes!"

Derrick immediately panicked. "Five minutes?!" He grabbed a shirt and desperately tried to button it.

"Everyone move!"

Atlas watched the chaos unfold. Having spent his entire previous life in an orphanage, he had experienced his fair share of difficult adults, but this was entirely new.

The door suddenly swung open, revealing a massive man standing in the doorway. He was easily over six feet tall, with a broad, heavy frame that strained against his neatly fitted dark uniform.

His stomach protruded slightly over his belt, giving him the appearance of a man who had spent many years enjoying good meals without sacrificing his intimidating presence.

A thick black mustache covered his upper lip, his head was completely bald, and his face was set in a cold, stern glare. His eyes scanned the room with the precision of a military inspector.

Atlas immediately understood. ’This must be Fat Ted. The nickname doesn’t betray his appearance one bit’

The man stepped inside, his boots striking the floor with a heavy thud. "Good morning."

The four students stood straight. "Good morning, sir!"

Ted’s eyes narrowed as he looked at each of them. "Name."

Eric immediately stepped forward. "Eric, sir."

"Department?"

"Healer Department."

Ted walked toward Eric’s desk, running a thick finger across its surface: nothing. He inspected the bed — perfectly made — and checked the wardrobe, which was neatly organized. Ted nodded once.

"Acceptable."

Eric released a tiny breath as Ted moved on. Derrick immediately straightened. "Name."

"Derrick, sir!"

"Department?"

"Assassin Department, sir!"

Ted’s eyes moved across the room — bed, wardrobe, floor.

His expression darkened, causing Derrick to swallow nervously. Ted pointed toward the corner beneath the frame. "What’s that?"

Atlas followed Derrick’s gaze to a tiny piece of cloth lying beneath the bed. Derrick’s face went pale. "That’s—"

"Pick it up."

"Yes, sir!" Derrick rushed forward.

Ted continued walking until he stopped in front of Claus, who stood completely still. "Name."

"Claus."

"Department?"

"Archery."

Ted glanced at Claus’s bed, then at the floor, and finally at Claus himself. Claus stared back emotionlessly.

Ted raised an eyebrow; Claus raised one in return. The two men engaged in a silent staring contest while Atlas watched quietly.

’This guy has absolutely no survival instincts.’ Atlas thought internally.

Ted eventually broke the stare and looked away. "Your quarters are acceptable."

"Thank you," Claus offered neutrally.

Finally, Ted reached Atlas. The man’s eyes slowly traveled across his section — bed, clothes, shoes, desk. Atlas stood perfectly still.

"Name."

"Atlas, sir."

"Department?"

"Beastmaster Department."

Ted looked at him, then at the room, then back at him. "You’re new."

"Yes, sir."

"How long have you been in this dormitory?"

"Since yesterday."

Ted’s eyes narrowed. He walked toward Atlas’s bed and lifted the blanket, which was slightly crooked. His gaze shifted to the chair, where Atlas’s clothes were folded somewhat loosely, and then down to his shoes: one was facing left, while the other was facing right.

Ted stared at the shoes, Atlas stared at Ted, and then Ted stared back at the shoes. Atlas slowly looked down. Oh.

Ted inhaled deeply through his nose. "Atlas."

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you know what happens when a student fails inspection?"

"Punishment?"

"Correct." Ted pointed toward the shoes. "Your quarters are bordering on unacceptable."

’Bordering?!’ Atlas thought, eyeing his section. It really didn’t look that bad to him.

Ted turned toward the rest of the room. "Your room is shared, which means the condition of this room reflects all of you."

Derrick’s face fell as Atlas realized the implication. Oh no.

Ted looked back at Atlas. "You are new, so I’ll overlook today’s poor preparation."

Atlas relaxed slightly. "Thank you, sir."

"However," Ted’s eyes hardened, "if I see this level of disorder again tomorrow, your entire room will be placed on probation."

The three other students immediately turned to glare at Atlas, who slowly raised both hands defensively. "Sorry."

Ted ignored the exchange. "Tomorrow, I expect every corner of this room to be clean — beds made, uniforms prepared, belongings organized. Failure to comply will result in punishment."

He turned toward the door, his hand resting on the knob before pausing. "Oh, and one more thing. Every morning, I select the five students across the Iron and Bronze Dormitories who demonstrate the best discipline, cleanliness, and punctuality."

Derrick’s eyes widened.

"The top five will receive breakfast in the Golden Dining Hall."

Claus’s expression immediately shifted. "Wait."

Ted glanced back as actual life returned to Claus’s eyes. "Golden Dining Hall?"

Ted nodded. "Yes."

Eric adjusted his glasses, Derrick straightened, and Atlas raised an eyebrow.

"Those who fail inspection, however, will receive the opposite treatment," Ted added, his mustache twitching into a far from pleasant smile. "Have a productive morning." He stepped out and closed the door behind him.

A heavy silence lingered in the room for three full seconds before all four students released a collective breath.

"That was close," Derrick whispered.

Claus immediately collapsed back onto his bed. "I hate mornings."

"I hate dust," Eric added.

Atlas stared at them. "What’s so special about breakfast in the Golden Dining Hall?"

All three turned to look at him.

"The Golden Dining Hall is for the Golden Dormitory!" Derrick said, grabbing Atlas by the shoulders. "That’s where the richest and most influential students eat! They serve food that costs more than what some students spend in a month!"

"The quality of ingredients is significantly higher," Eric explained calmly. "They use imported spices, rare beast meat, fresh produce, and specialized nutritional meals designed for Awakeners."

Atlas’s expression instantly changed. ’Rare beast meat?’

Derrick noticed immediately. "Exactly! So tomorrow, you better clean up properly."

Atlas glanced at his side of the room, then at the door, and nodded firmly. "Alright. I’m getting us breakfast."

Claus stared at him. "Us?"

Atlas smiled. "Well, I’m not going to let my room get punished because of me."

"You’re alright, new guy," Claus murmured, sitting up.

Atlas smirked. "Thanks."

He glanced toward the window as the morning sunlight fully illuminated the room. Somewhere inside his Soul Forge, his first Beast Soul was waiting. I just need to get through today, and then I’ll finally meet it.

The journey toward Class 5E was surprisingly peaceful for everyone except Atlas, whose mind constantly returned to his newly forged beast.

’I have less than a week before the duel,’ he thought, walking thoughtfully along the pathway.

I’ve never fought alongside a beast before. I understand tactics and how powerful beasts can be, but understanding something intellectually and experiencing it firsthand are two completely different things.

His creation was a Scout-type beast with Shadow and Bone affinities, meaning it likely wouldn’t be suited for direct, brute-force confrontation — at least not initially.

’What exactly can he do?’ Atlas pondered. ’The Soul Forge created him, but I only designed the foundation. I need to test him and learn how to fight alongside him.’

The upcoming duel against Class 5D was no longer just about proving himself; it was about proving that Class 5E had a right to exist among the other classes, and Atlas had no intention of losing.

’If I can figure out how my beast works before the duel, maybe—’

He suddenly stopped. Class 5E was strangely quiet, and several students were gathering their belongings and heading outside.

Atlas walked inside. "What’s happening?"

Seraphine spotted him immediately. "Atlas."

"Why is everyone leaving?"

Seraphine blinked. "You didn’t know? We’re not having theory today—today is entirely practical."

Atlas stared at her, then at the door. "Practical? Today?"

"Yes," Seraphine offered a sympathetic smile.

"Because Mr. Crosswell said so."

Atlas remembered yesterday’s practical session—the obstacle course, the synchronization drills, and Mr. Crosswell’s overwhelming demonstration.

But now, Atlas actually had a beast waiting for him. His heartbeat quickened with a mix of anticipation and nerves. ’Maybe this is perfect. I’ll finally have the opportunity to test it.’

"You look excited," Seraphine noted, tilting her head. "Your eyes are shining."

Atlas quickly composed himself. "I’m just looking forward to training."

"You’re definitely excited."

"I’m not."

"You are—you’re smiling."

Atlas touched his face and narrowed his eyes. "...I’m not smiling."

Seraphine giggled softly, prompting Atlas to sigh. "Fine."

As the remaining students moved toward the exit, Atlas grabbed his bag. The classroom door opened, and all conversation died instantly as Mr. Crosswell stepped inside, looking far too calm.

"Class 5E, gather your equipment," Mr. Crosswell instructed, his gaze sweeping over them. "We’re heading to the training grounds."

Atlas turned to follow the others, but Mr. Crosswell’s voice stopped him: "Atlas."

"Yes, sir?"

The teacher stared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted toward Atlas’s bare waist. "You’re not wearing a beast crest."

Atlas froze, his heart skipping a beat. ’Right... nobody knows yet except me and the Soul Forge.’

He offered an awkward smile. "I’ll explain later, sir."

Mr. Crosswell’s eyebrow rose. "See that you do."

Atlas nodded and turned back toward the door. Behind him, Mr. Crosswell’s voice echoed through the room: "Today, we’ll be determining exactly how far behind Class 5E truly is."

Atlas stopped as a ominous feeling settled in his stomach. He slowly turned his head to see Mr. Crosswell wearing the exact smile of a man who had just decided to make his students suffer.

Atlas’s expression stiffened. ’...How bad could it be?’