Chapter 18: The First Class Chaos

A Divided Classroom

The atmosphere was chaotic.

The classroom buzzed with the noise of restless students.

The heavy air mirrored their unease.

Nobles from the kingdom and the empire, young lords and ladies.

Just a decade ago, their families clashed swords in war.

Raised on tales slandering the other side, they carried that baggage.

‘Kingdom brutes eat raw meat like savages!’

‘Empire leeches live off the poor, flaunting gaudy trinkets!’

Their thoughts were plain to see.

Of the five rows with thirty seats, the empire claimed the left two, the kingdom the right two.

Opening the front door revealed a scene like Moses parting the sea.

I was dumbfounded.

What are they, kids? Sitting divided like they drew a line, and they’re all twenty!

Why are they all in this class?

I stepped inside, scanning the students.

“Saintess, good to see you.”

“You’re here.”

As a special invitee, I’m naturally in Class 1, so it makes sense that Orphe, the protagonist, or Theo, the third prince and mid-boss, are here.

Fine, I’ll accept that.

“You’re late, Saintess Isidora!”

“Lady Arkis, good morning.”
‘Your chest is still tiny today, flat-as-a-board Patricia.’

Why’s she here?

Fifirel, who came with me from the dorm, is a heroine, so that’s fair.

But Patricia? She’s just an extra!

[The God of Justice says you shouldn’t rank friends.]

Friends, my ass. I met her yesterday!

It’s already too noisy, and now I’m stuck with her for a year?

Smiling at Patricia, I took the front seat in the middle third row.

I wanted the back, but my body wouldn’t budge past the front.

I thought about arguing if sitting upfront is “proper,” but gave up.

They never listen anyway.

[The God of Entertainment says compromise can be a fine choice.]

Compromise is for when there’s room to negotiate.

If someone holds a gun to your head and says sit or die, is that compromise?

Ugh, whatever.

At least the main heroine, Erdike, is in another class by setting, so that’s a relief…

Creak—!

“….”

“….”

The front door opened, and Erdike’s eyes met mine.

Fck, seriously.

[The God of Dreams asks if the “fun” gift he prepared was enjoyable.]

You bastard.

Putting a bully and victim in the same class?

Fun?

In a modern setting, that psycho would be expelled!

Erdike walked straight in, heading toward me.

I flinched, but nothing happened.

She passed by and sat down with a thud.

‘She’s sitting behind me?’

Her gaze burned into the back of my head.

Yup, it’s her, that crazy, hopeless psycho!

What did I do to you, you lunatic?!

Two more students in mage-like robes entered, filling all thirty seats.

Less than a minute later, the bell rang.

The front door burst open.

A massive man.

The instructor.

He strode in, gripped the podium with both hands, and roared.

“Beasts are evil!”

Short brown hair.

Bulging muscles.

Countless scars on his massive forearms hinted at his brutal battle history.

“They nest in corpses, feeding on grudges! For years, both nations neglected and passed off the problem, and now the Dispute Resolution Zone is crawling with them!”

His fierce gaze swept the room, as if we were to blame.

“Some of you might think, ‘So what?’”

No one reacted among the thirty students.

The instructor paced lightly in front of the chalkboard.

“What a foolish thought. Are you here because you’re exceptional? No! Maybe if you were commoners, but is there a single one in this class?”

None, he answered himself, turning.

“You’re the scraps your nations discarded! And you think you’re here for espionage? At twenty? The moment you react to my words, you’re already disqualified. Can’t even hide your expressions, yet you dream of spying!”

Hic!

Someone on the right hiccuped.

The instructor glared at the source, then looked away.

“So why are you here? Hostages? Sadly, you’re not even worth that. That was true in the early days after the war.”

“How rude! The Third Prince is here!”

A student on the left stood, shouting.

Theo, seated behind, tried to calm him with an awkward look, but not very hard.

“Rude? What will you do? Draw a sword for your prince’s honor?”

“…Know you live by His Highness’s grace.”

The student glared, then sat.

The instructor smirked openly at him.

“Look at this pathetic display, failing to defend your lord’s honor! You’re spare parts, substitutes, surplus! Oh, except the saintess and a few others, invited by our academy.”

Eyes turned to me.

My already burning neck felt hotter.

Why bring me up? It’s embarrassing.

“So why are you here? Beasts! Perfect prey for prideful, useless hypocrites like you. Question: why does the academy handle this?”

“Because only the academy can conduct military actions in the Dispute Resolution Zone.”

Orphe spoke calmly.

The instructor grinned at him.

“Hero Orphe, one of our few special invitees! Correct. As a third force, the academy is the only group guaranteed activity here. Both nations found a brilliant way to use their spare parts to clear border pests.”

Murmurs rose among the students.

Who’d have thought their loyal nations would use them as hired muscle?

Being a hostage at least proves your value.

As the noise grew, the instructor slammed the podium.

“Enough! Too much chatter. You’re just eating up your families’ resources—better to kill a beast here, no?”

“So what classes will we take?”
‘F*ck, why’s he dragging this out?’

I spoke up to cut through the endless Q&A.

“Sparring with beasts!”

The instructor wrote “3-person teams” on the board.

“We’ve captured low-tier beasts for training. This morning, Class 1 will face them directly.”

First day, first class: sparring.

With beasts, not people.

The Training Ground

The training ground.

Ten iron cages sat on neatly laid sand.

“Grrrr…”

“Grwl, bark!”

The novel described them as grotesque, so I was nervous, but they just looked like big wild dogs.

Motorcycle-sized, maybe?

Less menacing than expected, which was a relief.

The real issue was team composition.

The instructor deliberately mixed things up, breaking up empire-with-empire, kingdom-with-kingdom groups.

So, people who’d never team up ended up together…

“Ohohoho! Saintess Isidora, trust in Patricia! I’ll keep the beasts at bay!”

Of course.

Our bond’s too sticky, huh?

Patricia, clanking in armor she’d somehow brought, kept patting my shoulder.

Her laughter rang in my ears, tempting me to curse the gods.

Then, another teammate approached.

“Um… m-my name is… M-Monica Caliga… I-I’m good at necromancy…”

“Monica Caliga, nice to meet you. I’m Isidora.”
‘Hiyo!’

“N-Not M-Monica… Monica Caliga…”

I totally forgot.

Monica Caliga, one of the novel’s two sub-heroines.

She came into class with her head down, shrouded in a robe, so I didn’t notice.

But seeing her now, she’s exactly as described.

Frizzy, dark purple curls, like dog fur.

Shoulder-length hair that made her look messier.

A worn navy robe.

And a chest so prominent, even the robe couldn’t hide it.

The epitome of a gloomy, busty archetype.

Good thing she’s not wearing glasses.

I’d have crushed them if she was.

Necromancy, huh?

Suits her vibe perfectly.

Will we mesh well?

In the novel, she worked decently with Erdike, so with the God of Jealousy’s powers, it might be fine.

Thanks to her, our party’s midsection balance is solid.

Flat Patricia, average me, busty Monica.

The dream triangle formation.

A jet stream attack to stir a man’s heart!

“Now, let’s decide the order! First to fight the beast is…”

The instructor’s voice snapped me out of my daydreams.

I gripped the 7-iron I brought from the dorm and prayed.

‘Please, not first. Please, not first.’

Any god, doesn’t matter.

With eight of them, can’t they grant this one wish?

“Hmm, Saintess Isidora and two others! Step forward!”

[The God of War wishes you victory.]

Today, the gods are dead. Or maybe yesterday.