SSS Class Awakening: I Can Forge My Beast Soul Avatars
Chapter 8: A Classroom

Chapter 8: A Classroom

For the past ten minutes, Atlas had been staring intently at his floating profile status as he walked through the sprawling corridors.

Since the awakening ceremony, three specific details on that digital screen had been burning a hole in his mind.

First was the origin listing: Orphanage. ’Why did the system have to include that? Is my background really that important to my stats?’

Second was the Soul Forge Status. ’What does that even mean? Does a soul forge have something to do with beast summoning, or is it something entirely different?’

And last, but certainly not least, was the rare skill: Creator. ’Why do I have this? What exactly does it do?’

These questions swirled endlessly in his head, but with no quiet moment to investigate, he was forced to keep his curiosity bottled up.

Walking right beside him was a man in his late twenties. He had a scruffy beard but a cleanly shaved mustache, with little to no hair on the sides of his face, and the hair on his scalp was a wild, curly mess.

He wore the standard dark academy robes and stared intently at a dusty old book in his hands as if it held the secrets to his very survival.

After the registrar had dismissed them, Atlas had been completely lost. He had wandered the corridors of the academy searching for the Beastmaster department, trying to follow the confusing map on the back of his card. Just as he was about to give up, he ran into this man.

As it turned out, this eccentric guy was actually his homeroom teacher for Class 5E. He had offered to guide Atlas to the classroom — even though, as they walked, it became painfully obvious that the teacher was just as lost as he was.

Eventually, by working together, they managed to navigate the maze. The Beastmaster department was tucked away in a secluded wing of the academy, far from the noise of the main campus.

A long, quiet hallway led down to this specialized branch, designed so that Beastmasters could train with their beasts without accidentally endangering other students.

Still, Atlas couldn’t quite comprehend how a licensed instructor could forget the way to his own department.

’That is not a reassuring trait for a mentor...’ Atlas thought, casting a skeptical side-eye at him.

The teacher caught his gaze and blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing," Atlas muttered, looking straight ahead.

They finally reached the hallway of the fifth-year classes, eventually pinpointing Class 5E at the very end of the row.

As they stood in front of the heavy sliding door, the muffled chatter of energetic students filtered through the wood.

"You ready, kid?" the teacher asked, closing his dusty book. "I’m going to introduce you to them. They’re a wild bunch, so just be yourself, alright?" He offered a warm, reassuring smile.

Atlas nodded silently. He didn’t really know what "being himself" meant anymore, but he knew he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could be left alone.

Without waiting any longer, the teacher slid the door open with a dramatic flourish.

A heavy chalkboard duster, rigged intricately to the top of the doorframe, plummeted straight down onto the teacher’s head. A thick cloud of powdery white chalk dust exploded on impact, enveloping his face.

Inside the classroom, the students instantly erupted into a roar of laughter. Howls and giggles bounced off the walls, the kids practically falling out of their seats.

Atlas stared in utter disbelief at his white-powdered instructor.

The teacher calmly picked up the fallen duster. He patted the white stains off his face, hair, and robes, stepping into the classroom with a look of profound, long-suffering annoyance.

"How many times have I told you all not to try this prank?" he muttered, his voice muffled by the chalk dust.

"But it works every single time, Teach!" one student yelled back through the laughter, sparking another round of giggles.

The teacher groaned but let it go. He knew exactly how he would get them back during practical training anyway, so there was no point in arguing.

Clenching his jaw, he let out a long sigh and raised his hands to quiet the room. "Alright, alright. That’s enough."

The class gradually settled down, the loud laughter dissolving into curious whispers.

The teacher walked over to his desk, dropped the heavy book onto it with a dull thud, and turned back to the students with a stoic expression.

"I hope you’re all prepared for today’s lessons. As I mentioned yesterday, we will be holding our practicals. But before we head out, I’d like to introduce a new classmate who will be joining us for the rest of the semester," he announced, dusting off the last remnants of white chalk from his shoulders.

"A new student?"

"Why is someone joining now? Isn’t it way too late?"

"I hope he’s hot," a girl whispered near the front.

’Really?’ Atlas thought, his eye twitching slightly.

The whispers continued to ripple through the room until the teacher raised his hand again.

"Okay, cut the chatter. Do well to treat him right. No insulting his background, no bullying, and no messing with him. He is a student here just like the rest of you."

He looked toward the doorway and gave Atlas a reassuring nod. "Now, come on in."

Taking a breath to steel his nerves, Atlas slid the door open the rest of the way and walked inside. He ignored the dozens of eyes tracking his every movement, keeping his posture straight as he stood beside the teacher’s desk.

As Atlas stepped into the classroom, he was greeted by a familiar sight. The room wasn’t much different from the standard academy classrooms he had imagined — rows of neatly arranged desks, a wide chalkboard at the front, and tall windows that bathed the room in warm sunlight.

Yet there was one obvious difference. Every wall was adorned with murals and carvings of legendary beasts, each standing proudly beside its Beastmaster.

Above the chalkboard hung an enormous portrait of a lean man with white-gold hair and a brilliant smile, his hand resting atop the head of a towering beast that stood faithfully by his side.

The painting radiated an almost indescribable sense of trust and companionship.

"Go ahead, introduce yourself," the teacher said, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Atlas cleared his throat, keeping his expression calm and confident.

"My name is Atlas. I’m from the orphanage. Pleased to meet you all, and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the school year with you." He bowed low and respectful.

The classroom fell into a sudden, heavy silence. The students exchanged wide-eyed, bewildered glances.

"The orphanage?" one student muttered.

Atlas felt a slight, involuntary shiver run through his shoulders. He had prepared himself for this.

Orphanage kids were rarely welcomed into prestigious academies, and the stigma was hard to shake.

"So, like... your parents died?" a boy in the middle row asked, entirely devoid of a filter.

Smack!

"Of course they did, you dumbass!" the student next to him snapped, swatting the back of his head. He then looked up at Atlas with an apologetic wince. "Please ignore him."

Atlas raised his head, scanning the room. He had been expecting immediate whispers of disgust, open mockery, or hostile insults. Instead, they just seemed surprised.

’Maybe the teacher’s warning actually worked?’ he thought, keeping his hands relaxed at his sides.

"Okay, that wasn’t exactly the warm hospitality I was hoping for, but we’ll work on it," the teacher intervened, breaking the awkward silence.

"Welcome, Atlas. We’re glad to have you. You can go take a seat at the back, right next to Seraphine." He pointed toward the far corner of the room.

To Atlas’s immense relief, the desk was right next to a large window. Moving past the lingering stares, he walked to the back of the classroom and slid into his seat.

He propped his chin on his hand, turning his gaze out toward the towering, sunlit mountains of the Northern Spire.

The translucent system screen still hovered quietly within his field of vision.

’Yeah... this definitely isn’t going to be an easy journey.’

’I might as well start figuring out how this system works before it’s too late.’