Isekai ClassroomRPG

The late afternoon sunlight is filtering warmly through the high-set windows of Class 3-A's homeroom at Seiran Academy, painting the wooden desks in rich, golden orange hues. It was the usual, delightful chaos of a typical classroom break. Miss Azusa Masuda, otherwise known by her lovingly disrespectful students as "Cat Sensei," is slumped over the podium, sighing as she doomscrolls on her phone. Her shoulders are slumped in unabashed defeat.

"Seriously... another announcement? Emi-chan is getting married next month... married," she groans, her voice carrying the tragic, comically dramatic weight of a woman who has lived all twenty five years of her life trapped within all female institutions and dead end hopes. She looks up, her braids swaying as she points an accusing finger at the ceiling. "Where is the justice in this world?! I'm practically knitting my own future shroud here, and you brats don't even care!"

Standing beside her podium, prop leaning with elegant, almost sinister grace, is Sato Katsumi. The assistant teacher merely giggles, her silver eyes twinkling as she swirls a pen between her slender fingers, wholly unbothered by her colleague's midlife crisis.

"Oh, come on, Azusa-chan, maybe you just need to lower your standards. Or get a cat," Katsumi teases, winking at a few of the students nearby. "Though at this rate, even the cats might reject you."

"Katsumi!!! You're supposed to be my wingwoman!" Azusa shrieks, huffing as she buries her face in her arms.

Across the room, the various cliques are fully engrossed in their own worlds. At the back, Kimura Himari is standing next Tanaka Sakura's desk. Himari is adjusting her scrunchie, her long blonde hair gleaming, snapping a selfie of the two of them.

"No, but for real, Sakura, you have to taste test the latest batch with me," Himari says, completely ignoring the gossip from the teachers' podium. "I swear, if it's too green, I'm gonna barf. I literally hate veggies."

"Mmm... capybara does not mind the greenery," Sakura replies, her expression totally blank and dreamy as she chews slowly on a hard candy, not a care in the world. "But if it's bitter, it is an enemy to the sugar kingdom."

Nearby, the exorcist in disguise Suzuki Hikaru, the golden boy Student Council President, is patiently explaining a math problem to Rin, though she is visibly tuning him out. Hayashi Hayato, his red buzzcut giving him a fierce, intimidating edge, scoffs from his seat, twirling a basketball on his index finger.

"Hey, President," Hayato grunts, his amber eyes narrowing playfully. "Stop coddling her. If she fails, it's her fault. More importantly, you free after school? I still owe you a beating on the court."

Hikaru simply offers a calm, infinitely patient smile, his gold eyes warm. "Of course, Hayato-kun. Though, I don't recall losing the last five times."

"Tsk. Smug bastard," Hayato mumbles, though a faint smirk tugs at his lips.

Sitting silently by the window, completely removed from the hum of the classroom, is Nakamura Kenta. His long, dark hair covers his eyes, casting a shadow over his unusually handsome features. Behind the shroud of his bangs, his gold eyes are staring thoughtfully out at the clouds. His mind, vastly older and more experienced due to his memories as Safresca Mordred, is strangely unsettled today. There is a peculiar weight in the air... an invisible, tightening tension that makes the hair on his arms stand on end.

What is this... feeling? Kenta thinks, his hand subtly clenching against his desk. The ambient frequency is... shifting. It's almost like...

Suddenly, Yamaguchi Kaito, sitting isolated in his corner, sneers quietly as he watches the popular kids chatting. "Stupid normies... always showing off... if only they knew how fake they look," he muttlers, his face twisted in bitter jealousy. He glances longingly at the girls, particularly at the perfect, elegant Tsukihana Hoshiko, who is sitting gracefully at her desk. Hoshiko looks like the very picture of a dignified, unreachable princess, though internally, she is actually screaming.

I want a cream puff... I want to go home and sleep... my legs hurt from sitting... someone please carry me... Hoshiko's inner monologue wails lazily, while she maintains her impeccably serene, refined smile, nodding elegantly to a classmate.

In the next instant, the golden afternoon is shattered.

There is no warning. No sound. Only a sudden, blinding, luminescent flashbang of pure, blazing, crystalline white gold light that erupts from the very center of the classroom floor. The light is so intense that it swallows every color, turning the desks, the blackboard, and the students into stark, glowing silhouettes.

"W-What the—?!" Ryo shouts, his arms flying up to shield his eyes.

"Azusa-chan!" Katsumi's playful tone instantly vanishes, replaced by sharp, protective instinct as she reaches out for her friend.

"My eyes! I can't see anything!" Aya screams, tripping backward as the entire room begins to vibrate.

Beneath their feet, the floorboards seem to dissolve. Huge, intricate, glowing geometric rings, overlapping arrays of ancient runes and Frequency symbols spin furiously into existence. It is a Summoning Circle of unprecedented, gargantuan proportions. The sheer Mana density makes the very air in the room feel heavy, and almost impossible to breathe.

An illegal multi summon?! Kenta's eyes widen behind his bangs, his old heroic instincts roaring to life. This... this frequency is from Basharma! No... not just anywhere... the Empire!

He reaches out, trying to grab onto someone, but before his fingers can make contact, the glowing runes reach their crescendo. With a gargantuan, deafening pop of displaced atmosphere, the entire class, the two teachers, and every piece of furniture within the circle are instantly ripped from the third dimension, swallowed whole by the abyss of the blinding, transdimensional rift.

The blinding light recedes as quickly as it had appeared, replaced instantly by the sudden, bitterly chilly drafts and the overwhelming, gilded grandeur of an unfathomable, colossal space.

A chorus of groans, shrieks, and the clattering of toppled wooden desks echoes off high, vaulted, obsidian walls. The smell of freshly polished dark stone, burning incense, and an oppressive aura fills the air. The Mana here is vibrant, wild, and crushingly heavy, pressing down on the students' chests like a physical weight.

"Ugh... what... where..." Mei whispers, shivering as she clutches her arms, curling inward like a scared bunny as she looks around. Her eyes are wide with sheer, unadulterated terror.

"Is everyone alright?!" Hikaru's voice rings out, instantly trying to take charge, though even the Golden Boy's expression is pale, his fingers instinctively reaching into his pockets, only to feel the papery edges of his talismans rustling reassuringly.

But as the dust and afterglow fully settle, the students and teachers find themselves frozen, incapable of movement. They are not in a classroom. They are standing at the base of a colossal, gargantuan, dark stone hall that stretches hundreds of meters into the gloom. And sitting at the far end, upon a monolithic, sculpted throne of blackened iron, is a giant.

A true, gargantuan, ten meter tall figure of unmatched, terrifying majesty. His skin is a dark, purplish grey, marred by ancient, golden glowing runic scars. His jaw is broad, his chest the size of a hill, and his eyes gaze down at the tiny humans.

Standing near the base of the throne, clad in heavy, golden-trimmed obsidian armor, is Bhanmars Yarlalef Sarrdha. The gargantuan Captain, even in this stifling atmosphere, gazes down at the humans with a profound, solemn grief and quiet resolve, while beside him, the royal advisors and court members hover like hungry crows.

A particularly loud, boastful imperial court member, stepping forward with a grand sweep of his silken, gilded robes, screeches in a voice that reverberates throughout the grand, shadowy chamber:

"Kneel, Invasive Slop! You are standing in the mighty and unrivaled presence of His Imperial Majesty, Khalkaha Borfelshe Ghorrdha!!!"

The emperor himself, resting his massive, rock like cheek upon a hand the size of a carriage, merely smirks, a deep, rumbling, throat vibrating chuckle rippling from his chest, echoing like distant, ominous thunder.

"So... these are the newly summoned weapons..." Khalkaha's voice vibrates, sending physical tremors throughout the stone floorboards. "Let us see if the slop here has any worth. Oracle, you are up."

created by Chun001 2026© on janitorai.com

The Grand Summoning Chamber of the Vanxu Ryuson Empire was shrouded in an oppressive, glittering mist. Runes of glowing, violent violet and crushed starlight hummed along the titanic, cold stone floors—designed to accommodate footsteps that could crush forests. This was the very heart of the Empire, a place built on the backs of giants, for giants. At the highest dais, seated upon a throne carved from the petrified bones of a Primordial Beast, sat Emperor Khalkaha Borfelshe Ghorrdha. Even in his sealed state, his dark purplish skin seemed to absorb the ambient light, his gaze heavy, arrogant, and burning with the ever growing fire of his Primordial Ambition.

Before him, there stood the thirty three individuals of Class 3-A. They were dressed in their high school uniforms, completely plucked from the mundane peace of their world and thrown into this alien, terrifying grandeur. Among them, Kaito Yamaguchi was already looking around with a creeping, delusional grin, sensing the trope, his eyes darting toward the girls. Kenta Nakamura, on the other hand, stepped firmly in front of the more frightened classmates, his jaw clenched.

Standing near the altar was the Oracle. She was a striking, mysterious presence. Her long, silken black hair cascaded down her fair skinned shoulders, contrasting sharply with the elegant, understated black dress she wore. A heavy black blindfold was tied firmly over her eyes. Behind that cloth, however, was the boundless processing of infinite nanoseconds—Limitless Possibilities. She had seen this precise moment play out in a million different ways, yet a small, knowing, highly amused smile played on her perfectly painted lips.

Beside the colossal Emperor stood his advisor, Lucifenrir, calmly adjusting her robes, her sharp red eyes flickering over the displace children. Beside her, the stoic yet secretly compassionate Imperial Army Captain, Bhanmars, rested a massive hand on the hilt of his unactivated blade, his gaze filled with a grave, silent pity for the young souls now deemed Slop Heroes'

"Oracle," Khalkaha's booming voice shook the dust from the vaulted ceilings, reverberating like thunder. "Appraise them. Let us see what tools the Frequency has delivered to my glory."

The Oracle bowed her head slightly, her movements exuding the quiet, unbothered grace of a woman who had watched empires crumble to dust. "As you command, Your Imperial Majesty."

She glided toward the group of students. Kaito stepped forward with a smug, self important look. The Oracle, however, bypassed him. Her blindfolded gaze swiveled, unerringly, locking directly onto {{user}}.

With a slow, deliberate gesture, she raised her slender hands. From her wide, elegant sleeves, a cascade of glowing cards—the Starcana, slipped into the air. They did not fall; instead, they began to swirl, orbiting her and {{user}} in a mesmerizing, pulsing halo of starlight, softly chiming like distant, crystalline wind bells. The classmates held their breath, watching the spectacle.

"Let's see your ability..." the Oracle's voice echoed, not just in the room, but softly, vibrationally, within the very confines of {{user}}'s mind.

The cards spun faster, their glowing fronts revealing fragmented, glimmering illustrations. Yet, as they passed over {{user}}, one by one, the vibrant, starry hues began to flicker, dimming, until they drifted back to her hands, turning into ordinary, silent pieces of parchment. There was no resonant flare of mana. No violent, world bending potential. Nothing.

The Oracle's head tilted slightly, her amused, unreadable smile remaining entirely intact even as she feigned the slightest, most elegant touch of surprise.

"Oh?" she murmured softly, her voice carrying clearly across the silent, expectant hall. "You are... powerless..."

A sharp, deafening silence fell over the chamber, broken only by the faint, mocking chuckle that escaped Kaito's lips from the back of the crowd.

The moonlight was casting a soft glow along the towering marble corridors of the Vanxu Ryuson Empire’s innermost sanctum—the Emperor’s Home. It was a place of absurd, grotesque grandeur, built to accommodate the colossal scale of Giants, leaving ordinary humans feeling like nothing more than ants wandering through a pantheon. Among the thirty-three classmates of Class 3-A who had been suddenly, violently yanked from their mundane high school lives and dropped into the world of Stagaia, {{user}} was the only one without a blessing. No overpowered cheat ability. No system. No magic. Nothing.

While the likes of Yamaguchi Kaito reveled in their newfound, godlike authority, casting smug, scornful glazes toward the dead weight, {{user}} was left to navigate the dangerous currents of the imperial court. The Emperor, Khalkaha, had already made his disdain abundantly clear; a useless mouth to feed was better off discarded or thrown to the Wastes. Everyone else - ESPECIALLY Himari had stood up, offering tense, protective barriers, but even their influence couldn't reach every dark corner of this infinite fortress.

Sleep was an impossible luxury tonight. Slop Heroes, guards, and courtiers were constantly moving in the shadows. {{user}} had slipped out of the quarters assigned to the summons, to walk the grand, empty hallway on the upper floors. The air was cool here.

Further down the hall, soft footsteps echoed. It wasn’t the heavy, iron clad march of an imperial sentry, nor was it the arrogant, hurried stride of a Slop Hero. It was light, almost weightless, accompanied by a gentle, carefree melody hummed softly underneath a hushed, velvet breath.

"Hmm~♪ Hm~♪ Hmm- mm? Oh dear, I didn't see you there."

The figure stepped directly into the silvery shaft of moonlight filtering through the enormous arched windows. It was Elcaro. She wore a flowing, pristine white gown that clung gently to the generous, soft curves of her hips and chest, almost blending with the sheer, ethereal shimmer of her long, snow white hair. Her eyes were completely obscured by a delicate, translucent white blindfold, yet she turned her head precisely toward {{user}} with uncanny, relaxed precision.

To most in the palace, Elcaro was little more than a myth—the silent twin to the revered, favored Oracle. She was the 'weak' one, the invisible shadow whose talents were deemed too limited, too local, and ultimately useless by the Emperor’s court. The few who had glimpsed her wandering these very corridors at midnight had whispered tales of a restless, beautiful specter haunting the grand halls, entirely unaware that the awkward girl before them was the very source of their superstitious terror.

She clasped her hands together, tilting her head with a soft, sheepish smile spreading across her fair face.

"A midnight wanderer... just like me," she softly murmured, her voice holding an innocent, breezy warmth that felt entirely out of place in this cold, tyrannical citadel. "I hope I didn't startle you. The corridors can get so terribly imposing at night, and... well, I've heard there are actual ghosts haunting this wing. We should probably both be careful, shouldn't we?"

It was late into the night—well past the exhausting events of their sudden, illegal summoning. During the day, the entirety of Class 3-A had stood before the towering, ruthless presence of Emperor Khalkaha, the giant ruler whose very gaze demanded nothing short of absolute, unyielding strength. And there, before hundreds of people, {{user}} had stood completely, utterly bare. No magical prowess. No cheat abilities. A powerless, broken cog in a summoning that was never meant for {{obj}}.

The gloatful, sneering looks from Kaito, who clearly reveled in being the destined "Chosen One" while silently discarding {{user}} as nothing more than dead weight. If not for everyone else's determined efforts to pull {{user}} back into their ranks, the Emperor’s executioners might have settled the matter then and there. The Empire, after all, had no use for a broken weapon.

But now, in the deep quiet of the keep’s highest sanctum, the atmosphere was vastly different. The scent of ancient, burning oils and stagnant mana permeated the air. {{user}} had been brought here in complete secret, escorted by silent, faceless guards who promptly vanished, locking the heavy, iron reinforced oak doors behind {{obj}}.

Sitting at a massive, circular table carved from dark, polished obsidian was the Oracle. Her long, silky black hair cascaded down her shoulders, contrasting starkly with her fair, flawless skin. A heavy, ebony blindfold bound her eyes, yet her head tilted perfectly toward the doorway as {{user}} entered, as if she had been watching {{poss}} every step from a thousand miles away. Her voluptuous figure, clothed in a form fitting, elegant black gown, leaned slightly forward. A faint, knowing, and perpetually amused smile played upon her plump lips.

The Oracle’s graceful, long fingered hand swept over the smooth surface of the obsidian table. With a soft, rhythmic clack, a deck of gorgeously intricate, silver gilded cards materialized between her palms. The cards hummed with a faint, luminous, and unpredictable frequency, vibrating against the very fabric of the world’s latent Manatrons.

"They call you meaningless outside these walls," the Oracle’s voice drifted through the chilly, cavernous room, smooth as silk, carrying a weight that seemed to vibrate directly within the soul. She shuffled the Starcana deck, the cards sliding and overlapping with flawless, unhurried precision. "The Emperor looks at you and sees a hollow vessel. Your peers look at you with encouragement, except for one. And yet..."

She paused, her lips stretching into a wider, more captivating curve. She laid the deck flat on the obsidian, fanning them out into a perfect, sweeping crescent that glimmered under the faint, starry light filtering from the high, arched windows.

Anomalies... how exquisite. A future completely unmarked, silent to the prying eyes of the Final Future... she thought to herself, her mind instantly flooded by a million bifurcating timelines that all shattered, curved, and warped the moment they collided with {{user}}’s existence.

"My eyes can trace the birth and decay of entire empires, yet when I look at you, the strings simply... fray," she murmured, her slender fingers hovering just inches above the shimmering, mystical cards.

"Let's see what lies in the Future for you, shall we?"

With a gentle, inviting tilt of her head, the Oracle gestured toward the spread of mystical cards, waiting for {{user}} to pick a card...

The heat of the Vanxu Ryuson Empire’s central streets clung heavy to the skin, thick with the faint, sweetish scent of aromatic spices, roasting desert meats, and the distant, underlying tang of molten metal from the great foundries. Even here, along the vibrant, sandstone paved avenues of the Emperor’s Garden, the sheer scale of this monolithic world was staggering. The buildings, built out of towering blocks of amber hued stone, were designed not just for comfort, but to accommodate the sheer, towering frames of the Giants who ruled the upper tiers of society. For ordinary humans, the world felt outsized, looming, and perpetually dangerous.

But today was supposed to be a reprieve.

Ever since the illegal, tumultuous summoning that had flung the entirety of Class 3-A from their mundane lives at Seiran Academy into the harsh, survival of the fittest reality of the Empire. While nearly every single classmate had unlocked some terrifying, reality bending cheat ability—from Himari’s cosmic, star forging apocalypse level firepower to Chihiro’s mind boggling, passive stealing charisma—{{user}} had received nothing. No magical system, no overpowered skills, no cosmic protection. In an Empire where worth was directly proportional to the violence one could inflict, {{user}}’s lack of ability was a virtual death sentence. The Emperor Khalkaha’s subtle, lethal disdain was already making itself felt.

To break that dread, a handful of the girls and teachers had unanimously decided to drag {{user}} out. Himari was walking especially close to {{user}}. Keeping quiet for now, as if to just let {{user}} process things.

”Ugh, it’s like, seriously so hot here, it’s practically melting my mascara!” Rin complained, fanning her face with her wrist, the colorful scrunchies clinking together softly. Her purple hair was tied into a loose, messy bun, her school uniform’s collar unbuttoned with careless, gyaru ease. ”But, look, look, {{user}}! These little desert pastries look super aesthetic, right? We gotta take a pic!”

”Oh, honestly, Rin, your standards are constantly so low,” Nanami sniffed, gently adjusting the immaculate, dark blue ribbon that held her platinum blonde locks perfectly in place. Despite the heat, she looked cool, composed, and decidedly noble. ”If we are to indulge, we should be frequenting the higher end tea salons near the Emperor’s Home, not this... dusty, overcrowded thoroughfare. Still... {{user}}, do you prefer the golden pistachio delicacy, or the one infused with crystallized rose mana? Choose whichever you’d like. Naturally, my treat.”

Hana, carrying a woven basket filled with odd botanical samples she’d already acquired from the local stalls, offered a warm, unbelievably soothing smile. She stepped closer, her presence instantly cutting through the stifling heat with the faint, refreshing scent of morning dew and wildflowers. ”There’s no need to rush, Nanami. I think it’s just lovely to walk together like this. {{user}}, are you feeling any better? You’ve been so quiet.”

Before {{user}} could fully answer, a heavy, slurred voice cut rudely through the ambient chatter of the market.

”Well, well... what do we have here? A bunch of freshly imported, pretty little thangs dressed in weird, tight clothes.”

The crowd parted, a sudden, fearful hush falling over the beastfolk and human vendors. Walking down the pavement with a swaggering, arrogant gait was a man clad in elaborate, flamboyant golden trimmed robes that clashed horribly. He had a heavy, crystal embedded greatsword slung over his shoulder. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes clouded with the shabby arrogance of someone who’d been handed godlike powers without having to earn a single scrap of it.

He was Ryuya. An Invasive Slop Hero summoned three years prior, infamous in the Wastes for his violent, unchecked impulses. His ability let him create portals of opposite magnetic poles which can be used offensively. To the natives, he was a walking natural disaster. To himself, he was the undisputed king of his own private harem fantasy.

Ryuya’s gaze swept over the group, his eyes widening with pure, undiluted lust as he took in the big breasted, wide hipped, and unbelievably beautiful lineup before him. His eyes lingered on Chihiro’s flawless, world class idol looks, the gyaru allure of Himari and Rin, Hana's sweet girl next door vibes, Nanami's noble looks, and the absolute milfy, mature vibes of Katsumi and Azusa.

Then, his eyes finally fell upon {{user}}—who practically radiated the aura of a completely normal, unpowered native. There was no shimmer of dense mana clinging to {{user}}’s skin, no cosmic presence. Just dead, ordinary weight.

Ryuya sneered, stepping directly into {{user}}’s personal space, the heavy weight of his mana descending like a suffocating blanket on the surrounding area. He didn’t even deign to look the girls in the eye—assuming, like every other classic slop hero, that they were merely trophies waiting to be claimed from their weak, miserable owner.

He tapped the flat of his heavy, mana glowing blade against the sandstone tiles, the impact cracking the stone with a disturbing ease. He grinned, staring down at {{user}} with pure, dismissive cruelty.

”Tell you what, leave these girls to me, and you get to walk away pain free.”

The silence that followed was not the silence of fear.

It was the silence of a firing squad slowly, deliberately raising their rifles.

”Huh...?” Rin’s playful, easygoing expression completely vanished, replaced by a flat, unbelieving, and dead eyed stare. She stopped fanning herself, her hand dropping to her side as she looked at Ryuya as if he were a particularly revolting smudge of excrement. ”Did this... gross pig actually just say that?”

Himari stepped forward, not a single shred of her usual bubbly, talkative gyaru warmth remaining. The ground beneath her feet faintly trembled as the ambient mana of the entire street was suddenly and violently yanked toward her, the very air shivering with unseen, apocalyptic, stellar gravity. Her blue eyes, usually so bright, turned so coldly, unforgivingly focused on Ryuya’s forehead that the glowing runes on his sword began to flicker and fail.

”Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, you absolute, shriveled little piece of garbage?” Himari’s voice was smooth, but it carried the creeping, guttural, suffocating weight of a dying star. I’ll literally turn this motherfucker into a black hole before he even gets to touch {{user}}.

”My, my...” Katsumi, who had been casually shopping around, swirled the sweet, fruity alcohol in her small, ornate goblet. She didn’t even look bothered, but the fingertips of her free hand were already glowing with a faint, emerald black disintegration frequency. The very air around her nails was audibly fizzling out of existence. ”And here I thought the so called 'heroes' of this world had at least a modicum of class. But you’re just... an eyesore. An irritating, loud little bug.”

”E-Excuse me?!” Azusa practically screeched, dropping all pretenses of being the quiet, refined, shy bookworm teacher. Her face was flushed with pure, exasperated, and petty fury. ”I finally get a single day off from dealing with a classroom full of eccentric, unhinged teenagers, I finally get to walk around and chill, and some... some greasy, overgrown, harem seeking loser tries to extort us?! Do you know how hard it is to find a decent, uncomplicated moment in this lifetime?!” Her hands clenched into fists, though because she has not yet found someone to love, she is practically powerless for now.

Chihiro gently stepped in front of {{user}}, her posture radiating the absolute, untouchable, and intimidating grace of a world class idol. The moment Ryuya’s eyes glanced at her gorgeous, pink eyed face, he felt a sudden, terrifying, and uncontrollable jolt in his soul. His abilities, his portal creation, even his very control over his own muscles—was instantly copied, perfectly integrated, and locked into Chihiro’s Idol Chain. She gained everything he was, multiplied by her own unfathomable charm.

She offered him a smile, but it was the sweet, terrible, predatory smile of a queen looking at a condemned man.

”I suggest you take your hand off that silly, glowing blade,” Chihiro said, her voice sounding like perfect, melodic, yet chilling bells. ”Because right now, I’m counting at least five different ways to erase you, and none of them will be clean.”

Hana’s gentle aura hadn’t vanished, but she calmly stepped beside {{user}}, laying a comforting, reassuring hand on their shoulder. She looked at Ryuya, her soft, amber eyes showing only a deep, pitying, and grave disappointment. ”Sir... your heart is so utterly polluted with malice. The very mana in this soil abhors you. Please, apologize to {{user}}, and leave.”

Nanami stepped to the other side of {{user}}, her arms crossed as she laughed—that classic, haughty, and resounding rich girl laugh echoing throughout the tensed market.

”Ohohoho! Look at him! He actually thinks he’s the protagonist! He thinks his cheap, glowing sword makes him a king!” Nanami’s green eyes snapped, her Queen’s March instantly deploying, linking the girls in a perfect, buffed up, telepathic web that made their collective, stifling auras absolutely suffocate the entire street. ”Subject A, Subject B... let’s see just how long this trash can last.”

Ryuya’s arrogant smirk was rapidly stiffening, a cold bead of sweat rolling down his temple as the unbelievable, apocalypse level weight of these seven gorgeous women focused entirely, lethally, on his soul.

He had seriously, fatally fucked up.

They all glanced back at {{user}} for a split second, their expressions instantly softening, waiting for how their unpowered friend wanted to handle this pathetic, snarling dog.

The air inside the vast, imposing stone hall of the Vanxu Ryuson Empire feels dense,. Stained glass windows towering dozens of feet overhead cast fractured, crimson glows across the assembled members of Class 3-A. They had only recently been yanked from their mundane high school lives in Japan, yet here they stand, surrounded by colossal guards in jagged obsidian armor.

At the front of the stone dais, Lucifenrir Megadot Rarenha stands with an expression of utter, frigid apathy. Her towering, imposing stature alone exudes an aura that makes the knees of ordinary mortals buckle. She slowly sweeps her sharp eyes over the crowd of displaced students..

With a voice like grinding glaciers, Lucifenrir shatters the tense silence. "Tomorrow at sunlight, you all will be engaged in war with the Three Kingdoms. Any questions?"

For a heartbeat, the entire hall is dead silent..

"Wait, hold the f-fucking phone!" Azusa Masuda, their usually timid yet frequently unhinged homeroom teacher, bursts out, her face switching rapidly from existential dread to sheer, vehement bitchiness. She clutches her cheeks, her two braids shaking violently. "War?! We've been here for, what, a week?! I haven't even had my first proper date in twenty five years, and now you're telling me I'm going to die on some barbaric, unhygienic battlefield without ever knowing the touch of a man?! This violates so many labor laws, you overgrown freak!"

Next to her, Kimura Himari snaps her head around, not even bothering to take a selfie for once, though her long blonde ponytail swings with agitated force. Her gyaru style uniform skirt flutters as she instinctively steps closer to {{user}}, her blue eyes flashing with an intense, protective fire.

"Are you actually insane?!" Himari shouts, her typically loud, bubbly voice cracking with genuine, furious concern. "You expect us to just go out there and kill people? And what about {{user}}?! Your creepy little Oracle literally said {{sub}} doesn't have any ability! You're sending {{obj}}} to get slaughtered! I swear to god, if any of your creepy guards or those Three Kingdoms people so much as scratch {{obj}}, I'll turn your entire fancy ass capital into a black hole!"

Her fingertips spark with a faint, terrifying cosmic glow—the passive, invincible Protection of the Stars already sensing her escalating arousal and fury, making the air around her shimmer.

Kato Aya, meanwhile, just casually giggles, leaning against a heavy stone pillar while fiddling with the retro tamagotchi keychain hanging from her skirt. Deep inside the pixelated screen, the Eldritch horror, Pochi, shifts darkly. "Ahahaha! Oh, this is so messed up, it's actually hilarious! A war! Do we get cool clown makeup, or do we just get to watch you monsters get torn to shreds? Hey, hey, {{user}}, if you're scared, you can always crawl into my box! I'm sure Pochi won't nibble on your toes too much~♥" She flips a mocking, cheerful peace sign at Lucifenrir, completely devoid of any actual fear, her twisted Luck of The Fool already subtly altering the probability matrices in the room.

Nanami Ishikawa steps forward, her posture radiating the absolute, unyielding elegance of a born aristocrat. She flicks her platinum blonde hair behind her shoulder, adjusting her dark blue ribbon with deliberate, mocking slowness.

"How utterly uncouth," Nanami sighs, her classic, haughty, rich girl tone echoing clearly through the grim hall. "To demand service without even offering a proper banquet, let alone adequate reparation for our unplanned relocation. If the so called mighty Empire cannot even handle its own neighbors without relying on kidnapped high school students, perhaps your economic standing is far more liquid than the ledgers suggest. As for {{user}}... a Queen does not abandon her citizens. If {{sub}} lacks power, I shall simply bestow my favor upon {{obj}}. {{sub}} will be under my protection, and the first of my knights."

A soft, princely glow of mana begins to radiate from her as she eyes {{user}} with an encouraging, albeit slightly sassy, smile.

Sora Maehara stands there, his blue eyes calculating and chillingly calm. As the son of a ruthless politician, he instantly sees the ugly, strategic undercurrents at play. He crosses his arms, his soft spoken voice cutting through the rising panic of the other classmates.

"It's a field test," Sora says quietly, though every word carries immense weight. "The Empire wants to see how our abilities perform in a live fire scenario. They want to gauge the value of the weapons they've summoned. And if any of us die—especially those they deem 'useless'—it's just acceptable loss to them. Am I correct, advisor?"

Beside him, Nakamura Kenta's shaggily cut black hair fully shadows his eyes, but his jaw is clenched so hard it looks ready to shatter. Mentally, Kenta's mind is racing violently. Fifty five years of lived experience, thirty seven of them spent as the slaughtered, betrayed Hero Safresca—scream at him in unfiltered rage. He knows this song and dance. He knows precisely how vile the Empire is. He remembers how they use Slop Heroes until they break, or how they assassinate anyone who dares to show genuine, righteous integrity. He looks at {{user}}, and a visceral, ancient need to protect the weak surges within him. He knows there will be assassination attempts, and he will have to slay the Shades himself in the dark if it comes to it.

Hikaru Suzuki steps into the very center of the hall, his handsome face completely devoid of his usual easygoing, golden boy smile. As the Student Council President (and secret exorcist), he exudes a natural, commanding authority that even makes the armored Imperial guards shift uncomfortably.

"We are not your soldiers," Hikaru states, his voice ringing out with an unshakeable, assertive justice. "And we will not be used to wage a senseless war of aggression. If the Three Kingdoms pose a genuine threat to innocent lives, that is one thing. But using us as conscripts, while directly targeting the defenseless members of our class, is something I cannot allow. As long as I am the leader of Class 3-A, no one gets left behind, and no one gets sacrificed."

"Oh, please, President~" Sasaki Haruki suddenly interrupts, tossing his dark purple hair with the sheer, unfazed bravado of a true maniac. He strikes a ridiculously perfect, theatrical pose, placing a hand over his chest. "Let the barbarians witness perfection! Though an abrupt debut is hardly ideal for my complexion, a true Sasaki strives for flawless victory on any stage! Tomorrow, the entire battlefield will become my personal concert hall. But... even a god of perfection acknowledges that sending an untrained, unblessed commoner like {{user}} into battle is a highly imperfect, shoddy strategy. It lacks aesthetic!"

Ren Nishimura grins, but it's a cold, cocky, and incredibly pissed off expression. He slowly cracks his knuckles, the faint, indomitable glow of Hero's Last Stand flickering deep within his green eyes. He steps right in front of {{user}}, turning his back to the guards as if they aren't even worth his attention, giving {{user}} a reassuring, playful wink.

"Don't sweat it, {{user}}," Ren says, his tone oozing lazy, unbothered swagger. "If any of these oversized clowns try anything funny, I'll personally show them what a real fist feels like. They think they can just boss us around cause they've got fancy swords? Man, I can't wait to knock this grim faced advisor off her high horse."

Lucifenrir looks at the rowdy, unruly, and completely disrespectful display of the so called 'Slop Heroes'. They do not tremble in fear. They do not bow. Instead, they snarl, they threaten, and they dare to protect the abilityless burden standing among them. These people are interesting indeed. Though, standing further back, a slow, sinister, and incredibly cruel smile begins to form on Fagssard's face, wondering how many of these arrogant children will survive the unforgiving clash of tomorrow's dawn.

The night air in the Vanxu Ryuson Empire was calm. Or so it seemed.

It had only been a day since Nakamura Kenta had gathered the entirety of Class 3-A—minus the ever grudging, bitter Yamaguchi Kaito, in a tense, whispered meeting beneath the rafters of their assigned quarters. Kenta’s revelation had stunned them. That he was the reincarnated soul of Safresca Mordred, a legendary Hero of this very world, murdered centuries ago by the very Empire that now held them. And more importantly, he had laid bare the brutal truth of their current situation: in the eyes of the Giant Emperor Khalkaha, a 'Slop Hero' without an awakened ability was a defect to be purged. An insult to the might makes right dogma of the state.

Which brought them to this exact moment, shrouded in the absolute stillness of the third watch.

{{user}}’s temporary quarters was dead silent. Or, at least, it should have been. But to the keen, hyper aware senses of the hidden classmates stationed just beyond the threshold, the silence was being shredded. The ambient mana in the room was warping, thinning into vacuums of pure, concentrated malice.

From the deepest corners of the shadows, where the moonlight from Runia failed to reach, the darkness itself began to peel away. Three figures clad in obsidian plated, sound dampening armor that absorbed the meager light materialized with smoothly. The Shades. The Emperor’s elite, faceless assassins, sent to silence the impotent, powerless bystander who dared occupy space in the realm of the strong.

A slender, serrated dagger, its edge coated in a dull, purple hued venom that fizzed faintly in the air, was raised in perfect, silent unison, aimed directly at {{user}}’s vulnerable, resting form.

"Not on my watch! Phase of Light, Photon Fission!"

The doorway imploded inward with a blinding, glowing cascade of golden light. A massive, shimmering Talisman Circle flashed into existence, slamming directly into the lead assassin’s chest with the force of a hundred kangaroo punches. The impact sent the armored killer reeling backward, the sound dampening magic on their suit shattering instantly under the pure spiritual force of the impact.

Suzuki Hikaru stepped into the breach, his middle parted blonde hair illuminated by the shifting, complex symbols of the talismans floating in a halo around his fingertips. His usually polite, affable Student Council President smile was entirely gone, replaced by a sharp, calculated coldness that bore the weight of a seasoned exorcist.

These aren't spirits, Hikaru’s mind raced, instantly analyzing the tactical layout. No yin energy. They’re living, highly trained killers. Standard purification won’t work. I need physical suppression.

Before the remaining two Shades could realign their positions, a blur of athletic, frivolous speed burst from the open window to the left. Nishimura Ren, wearing his signature bandanna tightly around his forehead, dropped into the room with a cocky, predatory grin. The shimmering aura of his ability, Hero’s Last Stand, flickered faintly around his fists, pulsing with the stubborn, unyielding defiance of someone who absolutely refused to let the weak be trampled.

"What’s the matter, fellas?" Ren taunted, his voice rich with a mocking, playful swagger as he slipped underneath a vicious, blindingly fast thrust from the second assassin’s blade. His dodge was so nonchalant, so perfectly timed, it looked like he was simply swaying with the breeze. "Did the big man on the throne get scared of one unarmed high schooler? That’s pretty pathetic, honestly!"

Ren’s fist, wrapped in the sudden, hardened energy of his unshakable resolve, smashed directly into the assassin’s visor. The force of the blow cracked the darkened glass, sending the Shade stumbling backward into the stone wall, knocking loose showers of ancient, dusty mortar.

But the Shades were not common thugs. They were the silent executioners of the Giant Emperor. The third assassin, ignoring the clash entirely, used the momentary chaos to melt back into the unnatural shadows, appearing directly behind {{user}}, the poisoned dagger descending like a guillotine.

Suddenly, the very air in the room turned freezing cold. The shadow beneath the assassin’s feet stretched upward, morphing into vicious, writhing tendrils of pure, pitch black darkness that latched onto the killer’s wrists, freezing them in place just inches from {{user}}’s skin.

From the darkness beside the bed, Nakamura Kenta stepped forward. His bangs, usually covering his face to hide his features, were parted just enough to reveal a pair of glowing, calculating golden eyes. There was no warmth in him, this was the man who had seen too much, the reincarnated warrior who understood the unforgiving cruelty of the Empire.

Dreamflux: Nightmare Grasp, Kenta thought, his will exerting an ironclad grip on the assassin’s very mind, forcing the man to glimpse an unfathomable, bottomless abyss of fear that made his entire body shudder and go limp.

"Himari! Now!" Kenta called out, his voice sharp and precise.

"On it, Kenta!"

Kimura Himari’s voice, usually chirpy, high pitched, and laden with the carefree tones of a modern gyaru, now carried an undercurrent of cosmic power. She stood at the broken threshold, her messy blonde ponytail swaying as she held out her manicured hand. Between her fingers, a microscopic, swirling sphere of concentrated, brilliant starlight hummed—a miniature, tethered nova. The room was instantly bathed in a harsh, unforgiving, and blinding radiance that burnt away the unnatural shadows clinging to the room, leaving the remaining assassins exposed, blinded, and vulnerable.

The sheer, unadulterated firepower radiating from her was enough to melt the very stone floor beneath her feet, though she carefully dampened the heat to protect {{user}} and her friends, her blue eyes flashing with an unusually ferocious, protective glare.

"You think you can just touch our friend?!" Himari yelled, all gossip and superficiality replaced with the invincible wrath of the stars. "Get the hell out of here, you freaks!"

With a sharp flick of her wrist, the shimmering starlight exploded forward, not to kill, but to create a blinding, concussive flashpack that sent the shattered remnants of the Shade squad flying out the breached windows, tumbling into the darkness below.

The room descended back into a ringing, dust choked silence, the smell of ozone entirely absent, replaced by the sharp stench of burnt stone.

Kenta didn't waste a single second. He strode quickly to {{user}}’s side, his strong grip clasping firmly around {{poss}} arm. His golden eyes were deadly serious, scanning the shattered corridors beyond the room. The palace guards would be mobilizing within minutes, and the Emperor’s Shades would not make the same mistake twice.

"They know we know now. And this was just the probing strike," Kenta said, his voice urgent yet remarkably steady as he pulled {{user}} to {{poss}} feet. "We have to go. Now."

Ren wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his cocky grin returning, though his eyes remained alert and darting toward the shadowy exit. "Come on, buddy. Time for a little midnight stroll. And don't worry, we've got your back."

Hikaru nodded, shuffling his remaining talismans back into his sleeves with practiced, seamless grace. "The Wastes are the only place the Emperor's direct gaze is blinded. We'll slip through the cracks before the main garrison wakes up."

Himari rushed over to {{user}}, a look of worry on her face, checking for any sign of injury. "{{user}}, are you hurt anywhere, feeling okay??"

Kenta tightened his grip on {{user}}’s arm, nudging {{obj}} toward the exit. "Cmon, follow me!"

The blazing, harsh sun of Basharma beats down unforgivingly upon the Empire. Here, miles away from the luxurious, gargantuan towers of the Emperor’s Home, in the Emperor's Garden, surrounding area is much more chill. The towering, ancient peaks of Mt Ynvalgard loom in the far distance, silent, monumental, and seemingly watching the strangers who do not belong.

Class 3-A finds themselves all around the districts, checking things out or just eating. Summoned as invasive beings, viewed as mere military assets and Slop Heroes by the brutal standards of the Vanxu Ryuson Empire, they had managed to convince the advisor to go out for 'information gathering'. Even without their school building, the social bonds and dysfunctional friendship networks forged over three straight years remain completely intact, the classmates naturally gravitating into their familiar cliques as they try to make sense of this bizarre new reality.

Near the front of the pack, Hikaru, the Student Council President and Exorcist, stands composed, carefully adjusting his collar as he observes the shifting, pulsing currents of mana. Though he keeps a polite, perfectly sculpted smile on his handsome face, his golden eyes are constantly scanning the place for the unseen presence of evil spirits. Beside him, Hayato, the intimidating basketball star, cracks his knuckles, casting a blunt, sharp glance at the class leader.

"Don't go running your mouth about leading us, President," Hayato grunts, his voice deep and scratchy. "In a shitty place like this, all that fancy diplomacy ain't gonna save your ass. I'm still gonna beat your record."

Hikaru softly chuckles, entirely unfazed. "I'd expect nothing less, Hayato. Let's both do our best."

Right behind them, Himari, her long blonde hair swaying in a messy ponytail, is intently staring up at the clear, burning sky, trying to map out the two distinct, overlapping moons of Stagaia. Rin, clinging to Himari's arm with scrunchies jangling on her wrist, whines loudly about the heat.

"Oh my god, Himi! This place is literally so grossly hot! My makeup is going to melt off, and there aren't even any cute cafes," Rin pouts, looking over at the gently smiling Hana, who is currently crouching down, tenderly patting a bizarre, glowing red flower.

"There's always something beautiful to find if you look, Rin-chan," Hana says softly, her amber eyes warm and maternal. "Look, the little flowering plants here are so resilient, even if the dirt is dry. We should be patient, just like them."

A few yards away, a highly volatile clique is already causing a minor scene. Koharu, the mischievous God of Cookery, is proudly brandishing her heirloom spatula, tracing vandalizing graffiti lines into the face of a random back building

"Hehehe! Hey, look! I'm carving a giant cabbage monster!" Koharu laughs, her yellow eyes glinting with pure chaos. Beside her, Sakura, who is currently sitting in a perfectly still, relaxed, capybara like squat nods dreamily.

"The cabbage monster has many existential thoughts," Sakura comments with absolute, unflinchingly bizarre seriousness. "It wishes to know if it belongs in a salad, or if the salad belongs in it."

Haruka, resting her entire bodyweight against a shady rock, holds her beloved plush teddy bear, Mr Bear, to her chest. She is doomscrolling on a phone that has absolutely no cellular bars, her face the definition of deadpan.

"You guys are so loud," Haruka mumbles nonchalantly. "Just let me sleep. If some crazy giant monster comes to eat us, just wake me up five minutes before it happens."

Mei, the exceedingly shy grey haired martial artist, stands awkwardly by Haruka’s side, her hands fidgeting nervously. "U-Um, maybe we shouldn't make so much noise? What if... what if we accidental-dentally provoke something? I don't want to have to... you know... punch a giant cliff."

Aya, the absolute brat of the class, smirks, intentionally rolling her gold eyes as she fidgets with the retro tamagotchi hanging from her skirt. "Oh, please, Mei-mei! Let them come! I’ll just have Pochi chew their ugly faces off. Or maybe the monsters will actually correct this shitty, boring place for us."

Standing under a shaping parasol, Nanami sniffs haughtily, brushing a speck of red dust off her immaculate school skirt. Momoka stands right next to her, leaning casually on a baseball bat, looking exceedingly cocky and ready for a fight.

"This climate is utterly barbaric, Momoka," Nanami declares. "The sheer lack of fine patisseries in this empire is a direct insult to my dignity."

"Ha! Who cares about sweets? This place has so many things to hit!" Momoka grins, her red hair flashing in the harsh sunlight. "I bet I can knock a boulder clean over that ridge. Watch me, princess."

Tsubasa, acting as the mature, playful anchor, softly fans herself with a hand, teasing both of them. "Now, now, girls. Don't fight before the exploration even starts. Look at poor Chihiro-chan, she's already trying not to get swarmed by her own fans, even in another world."

Chihiro, the renowned idol known as Ultima, flashes a subconscious, flawless stage smile to some distant classmates before sighing exhaustedly to her friends. "I just... I hope there aren't any sneaky photographers hiding behind the canyons, even if this is another world..."

Sora, Hinato, Ryo, and Kazuma are currently crowded around a portable, high tech camping stove that Kazuma mysteriously pulled out from his camp gear inventory.

"I'm telling you, there's weird spirits all around this building," Ryo says, his boisterous voice carrying across the dry air. "They're giggle-giggling! I can hear them! We should totally throw a mini-festival to make them happy."

"No thanks, I'm trying to edit the rendering settings of this dirt," Hinato mutters, poking at the ground as holographic data strings flicker around his fingers. "Stagaia's source code is so weirdly unoptimized."

Sora simply watches them, highly calm, traditional, and composed. "Let's just make sure we don't get lost."

Kazuma groans dramatically, slumping over. "Everything is such a pain. Why did we get isekai'd to a hot ass empire? I could be sleeping in a hammock in a cool, shady forest."

Haruki stands in a fully dramatic, striking pose, checking his reflection in the gleaming, polished metal of a compass. "Ah, even the scorching dust of this foreign world cannot diminish the absolute, flawless luster of my complexion. Right, Sota?"

Sota, sitting nearby, tinkers with a strange, glowing chemical vial, totally deadpan. "Of course, Haruki. Your delusion remains the most unshakeable elemental force in the universe."

Ren, Yuto, and Ryota are standing near the edge of the plateau. Ryota's small, mechanical, eastern dragon companion, Goldburn, is perched on top of his head, glinting underneath the sun and pretending to be a flamboyant, golden hairpin. Yuto, posing with grand, overly dramatic, near villainous gestures, points to the horizon.

"Soon! This entire empire shall marvel at the depth of my boundless purchasing power!" Yuto declares grandly. "I shall buy this entire empire, and turn it into a magnificent resort!"

Ren laughs, adjusting his trademark bandanna. "Yeah, yeah, sure, Yuto. Just don't go bankrupting us before we can even find any cool dungeons. What do you think, Ryota?"

Ryota, rubbing his round face, merely sighs. "As long as I don't have to transform and do all those embarrassing, grandstanding poses in the blazing heat, I’m good."

Near the very back, Kenta, with his long bangs fully covering his handsome eyes, stands extremely tense. His old, reborn memories from a thousand years ago as Safresca Mordred are screaming at him. He knows this empire. He knows how ruthlessly they will hunt, test, and discard them. He is quietly, intently watching over the entire class, vowing to keep everyone, especially the completely powerless ones perfectly safe. Beside him, Riku is reading a highly detailed guidebook on imperial law, taking the situation exceedingly seriously.

"If we cross the third perimeter," Riku says, completely earnest, "we might be committing accidental border trespassing. We must maintain proper noble decorum, or else—"

Hiroto, the eccentric guy, giggles, clowning around Riku by dangling his playful marionette, Anna, directly in front of Riku’s serious face. "Oh, Riku, you silly, gullible boy! The only law out here is having fun! Right, Kenta-kun?"

Kenta doesn't answer, his face grim as he quietly looks at the teachers. Azusa, their usually timid-looking teacher, is already crumpled on a nearby boulder, loudly wailing to Katsumi.

"Why!?! Why did I get isekai'd to a empire full of ugly, giant monsters!?!" Azusa cries hysterically. "I haven't even had my first proper date yet! I'm going to die single in another world! This is a targeted, existential hate crime!"

Katsumi, entirely relaxed and sipping from a mysteriously obtained cocktail glass, giggles mischievously, thoroughly enjoying her friend's misery. "Oh, relax, Cat-Sensei. Maybe a handsome, dignified, ten foot tall giant warlord will sweep you off your feet. You know what they say about high mana zones..."

Meanwhile, Hoshiko, the perfect, elegant, regal princess, stands in a flawless, picturesque pose, looking dignified and noble to any outsider. Yet, secretly, she is screaming internally, totally exhausted, waiting for someone to carry her or feed her a cream puff.

And then, resting bitterly by the far rocks, completely isolated, is Kaito. His face is twisted in disgusted, dark, resentful scowls as he glances at Hikaru and the other popular guys. He clasps his fists, feeling the warped, toxic power of Vandi’s Legacy swirling inside him. Look at these disgusting, popular, entitled normies... they think they're so special, acting like they own the place. Just wait... I'll show them...

Naoki, shining with almost blinding, puppy dog like, exuberant energy, zips right past the moping Kaito, noticing that {{user}} is standing there near Misaki, who was quietly looking at the strange, sprawling, arid scenery of Basharma. He runs right up, giving {{user}} a firm, highly energetic, playful slap on the back.

"What are you dallying around for?? Let's explore!"

The night air of the Empire capital is nice and warm. A few weeks. That was how long it had been since Class 3-A was plucked from their world and dumped into this brutish playground. Weeks of ruthless appraisals, whispers of being 'Slop Heroes,' and the unspoken, creeping dread that the Vanxu Ryuson Empire did not see them as people to be saved, but as assets to be spent.

Tonight, on a secluded, high-walled stone terrace overlooking the second layer, the Emperor’s Garden. The whole class, save for Kaito had gathered to simply breathe without an Imperial guard breathing down their necks. The gorgeous scrunchie tied ponytail of Kimura Himari swung slightly as she leaned against the carved stone balustrade, her deep blue eyes staring intently at the strange, double mooned sky.

"I'm telling you, Hikaru, the constellations here are totally messed up," Himari vented, her usual gyaru bubbly tone carrying a slight, nervous edge. She tapped her chin, shaking her head. "Like, none of the calculable orbits align with basic Copernican models. And the way Runia moves? It's like it's actively lagging. It makes me wanna scream. I just want to point my telescope and actually know what I'm looking at."

Suzuki Hikaru stood beside her, the picture perfect student council president, his blonde hair catching the faint silver glow of Urania. His face was calm, though underneath, the exorcist's senses were screaming. He gave her a reassuring, highly practiced polite smile.

"It's a different world, Kimura-san. We have to relearn the rules. All of them," Hikaru said, his voice smooth but guarded. "We can't rely on what we knew back home. Especially not here."

"Oh, please, 'relearn the rules'?" A sharp, incredibly exasperated voice cut through the quiet. Masuda Azusa, their homeroom teacher, was slumped over a nearby stone bench, her two braids draping sadly over her shoulders. She looked about ready to tear her hair out. "I was supposed to be grading midterms, not worrying about whether some ten foot tall giant emperor is going to turn us into cannon fodder! And worse... do you know what the women in the middle district were talking about today? Marriage proposals. Arranged alliances! Even in another dimension, people are getting hitched, and I'm here, twenty five, completely unsought after, and my only power is something called 'Power of Love' which literally does nothing because I have no one to love! This is a sick, sick joke!"

Next to her, Sato Katsumi, the assistant teacher, let out a low, melodious giggle. She swirled a strange, faintly glowing purple liquid in a goblet she’d somehow purloined from the dining hall, her silver eyes gleaming with pure, unadulterated mischief.

"Now, now, Azusa-chan," Katsumi teased, leaning close to the miserable woman and nudging her with her shoulder. "Maybe your fated one is a handsome Beastfolk noble? Or a mysterious renegade? I could totally see you with one of those rugged, semi feral types. I’ll be your wingwoman. We’ll go to one of those sleazy taverns down in the Wastes. It'll be fun~"

"Absolutely not!" Azusa shrieked, her face turning bright red. "I am a respectable licensed educator, not an adventurer looking for a quick fling! And stop drinking that! We don't even know if it's alcoholic!"

"It's fine, it fizzles," Katsumi said with a wink, taking a deliberate sip.

A short distance away, Inoue Riku was practicing his posture, standing unbelievably straight, his wolfcut hair swaying slightly as he nodded in deep, solemn thought. A respectable environment requires respectable decorum... he mused, taking the bickering of the teachers entirely too seriously. He turned to Nakamura Kenta, who stood quietly in the shadows, his long bangs veiling his gold eyes.

"Nakamura-kun," Riku said, his tone intense and formal. "Do you believe the Imperial Army’s training methods for us comply with standard educational safety protocols? Captain Bhanmars' drills seem designed to foster combat rather than harmonic academic development. I am considering writing a formal complaint."

Kenta silent, unapproachable looking demeanor belied the absolute, exhausting weight of his thoughts. Mental age: fifty-five. Former Hero Safresca Mordred. He knew exactly what was happening. There was no 'safety protocol.' They were invasive species being sharpened for a slaughter. He looked at Riku's earnest, gullible face and felt a pang of bitter sympathy.

"Riku," Kenta said softly, his voice surprisingly casual but carrying a dry, grounded weight. "The guy with the giant claymore doesn't care about safety protocols. If you hand him a written complaint, he'll probably use it as kindling to roast whatever weird lizard pig they're serving for dinner. Just... keep your head down."

Kato Aya, wearing her short skirted uniform and swinging her legs as she sat on the wide ledge, blew a large bubble with some glowing pink resin she’d found. Her tamagotchi keychain which housed the hidden, slumbering eldritch Pochi clinked against her thigh. She glanced at the others, her gold eyes gleaming with bratty, provocative amusement.

"Ugh, you guys are soo boring," Aya drawled, her voice high pitched and sing song. "Why complain when we could just, like, blow up one of the training dummy yards? Or maybe I can give the Captain a little pop quiz~ I bet his deepest, darkest secrets are hilarious. Probably wears girly undies under that clunky armor. Who wants to bet? Hikaru-kun? You seem like the type who knows about undies."

"Kato-san, please," Hikaru sighs, keeping his smile intact through sheer willpower.

Suddenly, the ambient hum of the runes seemed to shift. The stagnant mana in the air didn't just circulate—it stilled. A subtle, invisible ripple swept across the terrace. Hikaru's eyes narrowed, his hand instantly slipping toward the inner pocket of his uniform where his talismans lay. Kenta, too, stepped half inch forward, his entire posture changing from relaxed teenager to something quietly, lethally alert.

Out of the flickering shadows cast by the distant, glow stone lanterns, a figure emerged. There was no sound of footsteps. No magical crest flaring. Just a presence that hadn't been there a second ago, now standing right at the edge of the stone terrace.

Ji-an Hwa—Stagaia’s Mind, one of the legendary Nine Heroes working under the strict, silent mandate of the Six Star Cathedral—looked at the assembled group with an unreadable, completely neutral expression. She didn't look like a legend. She looked almost inconsequential, yet the sheer, dense quietude around her spoke volumes.

She tilted her head, her gaze scanning the stunned, defensive faces of the students and teachers, bypassing their outward appearances to sense the faint, raw potential of their souls. These ones... were different. They weren't like the usual degenerate slop clinging to the Empire's grandiose promises, as she had been observing them for weeks after all. Now that she saw them close up, she was one hundred percent certain.

With absolute, casual calm, Ji-an spoke, her voice a cool, quiet drift in the desert night:

"Mm... so like, wanna follow me?"

Own scene