Soul system:Return Of The SSS-Ranked Troublemaker-Chapter 41: Jeju Island (17) Reunion.
As the door of Canada’s airplane swung open, the first student stepped out—a blonde girl with a yellow bandana tied around her forehead, a white crop top, and a short skirt. Despite stepping onto foreign soil, she was still busy applying her makeup.
"O-M-G, the breeze here is amazing! Hashtag #ILoveForests! Ugh, I wish I had my phone..." she sighed dramatically.
As she strutted forward, her heel caught on an uneven surface. "Ouch!" she yelped as she tripped.
The students around her immediately started murmuring:
"What’s with her...?"
"Man, why is everyone blonde? I wanna see some redheads!"
"She’s an influencer. I follow her Instagroom." A student said with a dead-serious expression.
"Damn, is she good?" Another asked.
"Out of this world." He replied, voice unwavering. The group fell silent before suddenly clenching their fists in sheer admiration, tears welling in their eyes.
As the girl pushed herself up, the next student rushed down the steps to help her—a boy with a black bowl cut, wearing blue shorts and a plain white shirt.
"Are you okay, Lindsay?" He asked sincerely.
"Uhm, yeah! Anyways, let’s go!" she said, brushing herself off and moving forward as if nothing had happened.
Of course, the onlookers had opinions.
"Man, she seems so... easygoing."
"That guy? He’s got nothing special at all."
"Just wait till he gets plot armor. He’ll solo all of us."
They were immediately smacked by their peers. "Stop mixing reality with fiction!"
Then, stepping off the plane next was a tanned guy with messy blonde spikes, wearing a white tank top, loose pants, and a thick golden chain with the name "Fucker" engraved on it.
The moment he appeared, a wave of judgment and disgust spread through the students.
"Man, he looks like a middle school bully."
"He gives off that ’I’ll steal your girl’ vibe."
"Maybe he is! ...But we don’t have to worry. We’re all bitchless here."
Silence. Then, the whole group collectively broke down in a corner, crying.
Finally, the rest of the Canadian students stepped out. With all the international students now gathered, the heroes lined them up according to their respective countries.
Then, Monkey Mic appeared, gripping his well-worn bo staff. As he raised his microphone, an ear-piercing noise screeched through the speakers, causing several students to wince. Thankfully, it stabilized within seconds, making his voice bearable.
"Yo! Alright, first of all, welcome, international students!"
A wave of cheers erupted from the crowd.
"Yeah, yeah, that’s enough." He waved them down with a smirk. "Now, you might be wondering why you’re all here. Well, a lot of countries—especially their presidents—have sent their top students to train under the Kitler Training Program. So, make sure to introduce yourselves, get to know each other, and prepare. Because today is just the beginning... Tomorrow? That’s when the real fun starts."
With that, Monkey Mic turned on his heel, a sly grin lingering on his face as he walked off.
After his departure, other heroes stepped forward, guiding the international students to their assigned dorms. Naturally, groups began to form—teams of five to ten, gathering based on instinct, nationality, or sheer luck.
Once they reached their rooms, they wasted no time settling in, unpacking their belongings.
Zion quickly rushes to Andrea still wearing he’s superhero suit.
Andrea.
Their time together had been brief—too brief—but every moment had felt like an eternity. Or maybe... was he just in love?
As Andrea wandered outside the base, the cool night air brushing against her skin, a familiar voice reached her ears. She turned, her eyes lighting up as she recognized the speaker.
"Oh! It’s you, Zion!" she said cheerfully.
Zion’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His face was already burning.
"She remembers me!" he thought, barely holding back a grin. "Y-Yeah, it’s me! I can’t believe you actually remember me!"
Andrea giggled. "Obviously! How could I forget the guy who saved me and got me into the top 15?" Her voice was soft—angelic, even.
Zion swallowed hard. "I-I see... So, uh, do you already have your costume?" he asked, desperate to change the topic before he combusted.
"Yup! I got it custom-made. My friend’s mom made it for me!"
"That’s awesome! Oh, by the way, check out mine!" Zion said, puffing out his chest and proudly showing off his outfit.
Andrea tilted her head, studying it for a moment before her eyes widened. "Wait... isn’t that an outfit worn by elves from the World Tree?"
Zion’s eyes sparkled. "You actually know about them?!" His excitement was impossible to contain.
Andrea grinned. "Of course! I’m a huge fan of the hero, Elfcaster!"
Zion’s mind blanked for a moment. "She’s perfect!" he thought, barely suppressing his emotions.
"Wow, you actually know him!" he said, still in disbelief.
Andrea nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, though I’m a little sad. It’s been six years since he retired."
"Same... but when the World Tree was destroyed, I decided to make my suit in honor of it." Zion smiled, adjusting his sleeves.
Andrea’s gaze lingered on him. "He’s actually... a good guy." She bit her lip slightly and covered the lower half of her face.
Zion noticed and frowned slightly. "Hey, are you sick or something?"
Andrea jolted, quickly waving her hands. "Ah—no! It’s just my nose! It was runny, so I sneezed!"
Zion stared at her for a second before turning away, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Holy shit... she’s still cute."
Zion found himself lost in Andrea’s eyes, a strange feeling washing over him. Why does this feel so weird...? His mind wandered, completely zoning out.
Andrea tilted her head, confused. "Uh... where is he looking?" she mumbled to herself.
Before she could snap him out of it, an announcement rang through the air.
"Everyone, the meals are ready!"
Andrea turned back to Zion, waving a hand in front of his face. No reaction. She sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder—still nothing. Finally, with a smirk, she reached up and pinched his cheek.
"Ow—huh? What happened?" Zion stammered, blinking as he snapped back to reality.
Andrea giggled. "Come on, let’s go eat."
"Oh, uh—yeah! The meals! Follow me," Zion said hastily, trying to shake off his embarrassment.
Before he could move, Andrea suddenly grabbed his hand.
"Huh?" Zion glanced back at her, his heart skipping a beat.
She smiled warmly. "Let’s go."
His face instantly flushed red, and he quickly turned away. "Y-Yeah... let’s go," he muttered, hoping she didn’t notice how fast his heart was racing.
Meanwhile, other students were reuniting over their meals, some catching up, while a few, like Yin, chose to train instead. But while many enjoyed a fresh start, not everyone had the luxury of a peaceful reunion...
Yin stood firm, his fists ablaze, each strike powerful enough to crack the massive boulder before him. His costume was simple yet striking—a strip of cloth tied around his forehead, his dark hair flowing freely, a red scarf wrapped around his neck. His upper body was covered only by a thin white cloth wrapped tightly around his torso, revealing his toned muscles. On each arm, three metallic rings gleamed—orange on his right, yellow on his left. His red pants, lined with downward-facing spikes, were flexible, designed for combat at any moment. Black gloves covered his hands, absorbing the shock of every crushing blow.
As he shattered another boulder, a deep, familiar voice echoed behind him, a voice that pulled him straight into the past.
"Наконец-то мы встретились!" (Nakonets-to my vstretlis’!)—"Finally, we’ve met again!"
Yin turned sharply, his eyes widening.
A towering man stood before him, clad in a red polo with sleek black stripes. Behind him, two stunning women—one with flowing white hair, the other with deep black locks—stood like shadows to his presence, their expressions unreadable.
Before Yin could react, the man stepped forward and grabbed him effortlessly, lifting him like a child. A cold yet unmistakable smirk played on his lips.
"Long time no see, Yin." His voice was chilling, but the glint in his eyes spoke of something more.
Yin froze, his eyes widening in terror as he recognized the figure before him. "Ivan?... Ivan Dragunov?" His voice was laced with dread. He gripped Ivan’s hand, his massive forearms straining as he tried to force Ivan down, but it was futile. Ivan didn’t even flinch.
"Mm? You want to fall?" Ivan asked in a cold, almost amused tone.
Yin nodded, bracing himself, but Ivan’s smirk only deepened. With effortless strength, he used both hands to toss Yin across the clearing. Yin crashed into the boulder he’d been punching earlier. The impact didn’t just crack it—it shattered it completely, sending debris flying. Yin collapsed, knocked out cold.
"I expected more from the disciple of that monk," Ivan muttered in a detached voice, his tone as frigid as ever. "Я ожидал большего от ученика того монаха."
With a mocking smile, Ivan turned away, grabbing the two women by their waists. "Gotta eat my protein," he added coldly licking he’s lips,his voice still carrying that chilling detachment as he walked off.
