Shadow Being System

William awoke to a quiet dawn, the sun began to rise from the horizon. After freshening up, he headed down to the cafeteria for a quick breakfast, then made his way to the first class of the day. The lecture that morning wasn't particularly exciting—a dry rundown of heroes and legends who have made a great contribution to the world. William's thoughts drifted, already focused on the main task of the week: selecting his special classes. He'd already set his sights on the elemental class for combat class due to his wind ability being an elemental ability, he has not made his decision on which special class to choose.

After class, he decided to check out the cooking class. He wasn't too invested in learning how to cook—especially not for career reasons—but he'd heard rumors about the unique experiences it offered. Stories circulated among students of learning to prepare exotic beast meat and handle ingredients that could either heal or harm, depending on their treatment. So, with a mix of intrigue and a touch of skepticism, he made his way to the building where the class was held.

As he entered the classroom, he paused to take it all in. It was set up like a small theater, with seats arranged in tiered rows overlooking a stage equipped with everything a chef might dream of—and more. At the front of the stage was an enormous chopping board, surrounded by a lineup of massive, razor-sharp knives. One of them gleamed so menacingly that William swore it looked sharp enough to slice through reality itself.

He took a seat near the back, slightly early, and waited. Soon, other students trickled in, filling the rows around him. As the seats settled, the lights began to dim, casting the audience in shadow and leaving only the stage bathed in a warm, dramatic glow. The soft hum of anticipation buzzed through the room.

Suddenly, the sharp click of heels echoed from behind the stage. A woman in her late thirties appeared, striding confidently to the center, her heels marking a steady rhythm on the polished floor. She was a chubby, authoritative figure with a stern expression, and her presence seemed to fill the room as she grabbed a microphone and addressed the students.

"Good morning, everyone," she began, her voice a smooth yet powerful drawl. "I'm Mrs. Chambers, your instructor for the culinary arts—beast edition." She flashed a smile that seemed both welcoming and slightly ominous. "A little about me," she continued, "I've spent fifteen years as a master chef specializing in the handling and preparation of exotic beast meat, and I've worked with some of the most dangerous materials known to humans."

She launched into a lecture, explaining the importance of proper cooking techniques and the dangers of mishandling beasts' unique properties. As she spoke, William's attention drifted. She was thorough—too thorough, delving into detail after detail with a level of enthusiasm that seemed lost on most of the class. Around him, students were struggling to keep their eyes open. He stifled a yawn himself, eyes glazing over as she droned on about things like "beast fibers," "poisonous marrows," and the "perils of amateur carving."

Mrs. Chambers seemed to pick up on the restlessness, and a playful smile curved at her lips. "Well," she said, snapping the class to attention, "before I bore you all to death, how about a bit of hands-on learning?" Instantly, the room perked up; even William sat a little straighter, his boredom fading to curiosity.

At her signal, the curtains behind her parted, and a pair of assistants wheeled in a large trolley. Resting on it, fully intact and eerily lifelike, was a massive cat-like beast with thick, blue scales that shimmered in the stage lights. It lay dead, its powerful form rigid and menacing. Though lifeless, the beast retained a sense of lethal beauty with its scarlet eyes frozen in a final, ferocious glare.

The sight of it struck William like a punch to the chest. His breath caught, and in a flash, memories of that horrific day in the tunnel surged up, the terror and the chaos, the smell of blood and the cries of his friends. This was the same type of beast he'd fought—the first beast he'd ever killed.

All around him, the other students gasped, their expressions ranging from awe to raw fear. Some of those from the Western territories looked particularly stricken, faces pale and tense. They've encountered these things too, William realized, his own hands clenching into fists.

Mrs. Chambers stepped forward, her tone shifting to one of admiration. "This, students, is a tier-one Razor Fang. Don't let its looks fool you; even in death, this creature holds immense value. Its scales are tougher than most armor. In fact," she paused, lifting a finger for emphasis, "we'll be using these scales to create lightweight armor prototypes for combat trainees."

William's gaze shifted to the scales, recalling how they had deflected his blows that day, the creature barely flinching as he struck. He remembered the sword Mr. Beth had given him, snapping in two when he'd tried to pierce the beast's hide. Even now, a faint shiver of fear mingled with the adrenaline building inside him.

"To handle beasts like these," Mrs. Chambers continued, "we use specialized knives, crafted with materials capable of slicing through even the toughest flesh." She gestured to the largest knife on the table and picked it up. With a single, practiced movement, she began carving the beast's scales, her skillful motions making it look effortless.

Each cut was precise, measured, and controlled. Every flick of her wrist spoke of years of experience, and the students watched in awe as she deftly peeled away a scale, revealing the thick, muscular tissue beneath. She held up the scale, turning it so that the students could see its size and density, then placed it on the table before wiping her hands.

"I need two volunteers," she announced, her gaze sweeping over the silent, wide-eyed audience. "Anyone brave enough to try?"

A tense silence filled the room. Most of the students froze, some with nervous laughter, others visibly paling at the idea of touching the creature. William felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears, every instinct telling him to stay seated, to let someone else take the risk.

But something inside him—a deep, simmering anger—refused to be silenced. The same fury he'd felt that day in the tunnels surged forward, overpowering his fear. Without a second thought, he raised his hand.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

To his surprise, he noticed someone else had done the same. He turned, locking eyes with the boy across the room, and his lips curled into a faint smile. The boy's expression mirrored his own—a mixture of hatred, determination, and something darker, a mutual understanding born of shared trauma.

Side by side, they stood up and walked toward the stage, their footsteps echoing in the stillness. The rest of the class watched, expressions a mix of shock and curiosity, whispers passing between them.

Thank you Darius_Sampelean and BLAZER_KUN for the power stones, I really appreciate it.