Faction Fears and Classroom Tease
Rainer glanced furtively at our side, and the moment our eyes met, he let out a shriek. "Eek!" He slammed his head down. His face was deathly pale, and I could even see cold sweat trickling down his back.
What's his deal? Is he sick?
Rainer Roeder, eldest son of the Roeder Marquis family, was utterly confused. Things should have been going according to plan by now. He'd meant to swagger up to that arrogant little Northgard punk, rattle his nerves, and humiliate him. Or failing that, pick a fight with that illegitimate princess to show off Slokina royalty's prestige. It was the perfect chance to seize the initiative from day one at the entrance ceremony and make a name for himself.
But.
What the hell is that?
Behind the young master... sat a bear. His thighs looked thicker than Rainer's waist, and his forearms were the size of Rainer's head. But above all, those eyes. They seemed indifferent, yet that very indifference made them feel like a predator's gaze—every time they swept over him, Rainer's heart skipped a beat.
Pick a fight with that guy?
Insane. That wasn't human. One wrong word, and his spine would snap in half right there, his teeth scattering like dried corn kernels. The primal survival instinct crushed Rainer's arrogance. Family prestige and honor be damned—he had to live first.
Don't make eye contact... don't make eye contact...
He chanted it to himself like a mantra.
...What's his deal? Is he sick?
I tilted my head. The guy had freaked out and hidden the second he saw me—like a puppy desperate to poop. Am I that scary? I'd dressed as neatly as possible today. Hair combed back, tie on, even keeping a mild expression.
But I wasn't aware of it. The baseline intimidation from my massive build. The mana waves pulsing from my Behemoth leather. And the subtle killing intent leaking out—'Touch my family and you're dead'—that was weighing down the air around me.
I was just vigilantly on guard, dead serious. To others, I looked like a beast ready to pounce and hunt.
In the end, the original story's entrance ceremony confrontation event fizzled out under my sheer physical presence. No one dared approach our North faction zone. Even the ants crawling by seemed to swerve away.
"......Peaceful, huh."
I muttered, and Kairun shrugged with a grin. "Thanks to you. With you behind me, Barg, it feels like I've got a fortress wall at my back."
"That's a compliment, right?"
"Damn straight."
Then, spotlights flicked on above the platform. The murmurs died down. The white-haired old gentleman, Academy Principal Archimedes, ascended the stage. He scanned the crowd with a stern gaze, then frowned when his eyes hit our side. He was still pissed about the dorm issue, apparently.
"New students. Welcome to Eterna Imperial Academy."
His booming voice echoed through the hall. It had finally begun. Our academy life was kicking off far more quietly—and overwhelmingly—than expected.
And right away, I faced the greatest crisis of my life.
"......"
The classroom air wasn't just heavy—it was sticky. Outside the window, lazy afternoon sunlight poured in, and chalk dust floated hazily in the air. From the lectern came the sharp tap-tap of chalk on the board, paired with a monotonous, raspy voice.
"Thus, the tax revenue fluctuations from tenant farmers' crop yields in a territory form a quadratic curve, profoundly impacting the lord's fiscal health..."
Course title: Advanced Arithmetic and Territory Taxation.
I stared blankly at the board. It was crammed full of white numbers on black. The digits crawled like ants, then tangled up and started dancing.
No wonder the original story cut out all the class scenes...
I stuck out my tongue inwardly. In a typical academy tale, the first class might feature a duel for shock value, or capturing a live monster for a practical on threats you'd face. At minimum, testing mana potential with crystals or magic theory. But not here.
Peaceful times. At Eterna Imperial Academy, focused on noble duties like territory management, that stuff was off the table.
Screeech. I shifted slightly, and the chair under me squealed. The wood-and-metal seat trembled pitifully under my weight. At the noise, a few front-row students flinched, shoulders shaking.
This is torture.
I tried adjusting my posture with an awkward smile, but that only made the desk clamp my thighs harder. My knees were jammed in the front drawer, arms on the desk invaded the neighbor's space. And my seat was dead last in the back corner. Professor Mess's raspy voice—proof of his long career and terrible handwriting—barely reached me.
Damn this blessed bulk...
Before class, the second I opened the door, Mess had pushed up his glasses in horror and exiled me to the back corner—for the perfectly logical, tragic reason that my size blocked everyone's view.
Now the board looked like sesame seeds, and his voice was white noise fading into the distance. Sitting still in this barbarian body for advanced math demanded more endurance than hiding in snow for a night hunt.
But this exile spot had its perks.
"...Barg."
A sleepy, sweet voice from beside me. I turned to see Kara propping her chin, staring right at me.
"Bored?"
She mouthed it with a sly grin. While other noble sprouts fought for front seats to cozy up to the prof, Kara had naturally claimed the one next to mine.
"Don't doze off...! I got warned earlier for nodding off. Prof's got sharper eyes than he looks...!"
That's a brag...
And even Elysia Spencer had glued herself to Kara's other side. As princess, with me and Kara flaunting raw power—the ultimate symbol—that made us the classroom's top power trio, bizarrely huddled in the back corner.
Sorry, I whispered back. "Sorry, Kara. Because of me, you're stuck in the back too... Can't even see the board properly."
Kara was a straight-A student. Top of theory and practicals in the original too. Felt bad dragging her down.
But her lips curled adorably at my apology.
"What? I like it."
"Huh?"
"Prof can't spot us back here."
Swish. Her hand slipped under the desk. Then boldly stroked up the inside of my thick thigh.
"Guh!"
I stiffened, sucking in a sharp breath. Her soft fingers danced over solid muscle, tapping sensitive skin inside my thigh. A shiver raced up my spine. Cold sweat beaded.
This damn woman...!
I shot her a shocked look. But Kara pretended to watch the board, all innocent, while her fingers traced circles on my thigh.
Mess was lost scribbling complex equations. Students heads-down, scribbling notes. Just our secret moment. Kara's eyes sparkled with mischief.
Pregnancy hormones maybe... Her touches didn't care about place or time since arriving at the academy.
"Kara... this is a classroom..."
"That's what makes it fun."
She licked her lips and whispered. Her hand crept deeper—
"......Um, excuse me."
Elysia's voice cut between us. She squinted in disgust, like she'd seen something gross.
"Please, pick a time and place... What are you doing in this sacred hall of learning? Really... showing off..."
Elysia's face burned red. The herbivore's plight, sandwiched between North's beast couple.
But Kara ignored her, linking arms with me defiantly.
"Elysia, you'll get it when you marry. How good a cushion a husband's thigh makes."
"I don't wanna know...! And I've never even dated, let alone marriage..."
Elysia sniffled. I cleared my throat awkwardly, gently prying off Kara's hand, and turned forward.
In my peripheral, front-row dead center: Kairun's familiar black hair. He sat ramrod straight like a statue. Perfect posture, hair neatly combed back. Pen flying furiously, catching every word—even the prof's offhand jokes.
Tough bastard...
In the original, Kairun bet his life on studies. Problem was his petty sulks whenever Kara outscored him by one subject. But this changed Kairun looked good. Nothing motivates you like watching someone lost in passion.
But his desperation wasn't just academic thirst.
I recalled the bombshell the principal dropped at the entrance ceremony.
Like the original, but no system for kids...
Effective, sure. But.
The principal on stage brushed back his long white hair, surveying the crowd. He eyed with interest how students had divided by origin and faction without orders.
"Hoho... Sides already picked, eh? Excellent. Perfect."
He chuckled low into the mic.
"You lot are future leaders of the empire. What's a leader's key virtue? Personal strength? Knowledge? No. Command and responsibility."
Here it comes.
"So, starting this semester, we'll introduce the Faction Competition Evaluation."
The hall buzzed. The principal pressed on undeterred.
"Simple rules. Capital, East, West, South, North. We'll aggregate each faction's grades and conduct. Of course... not every undergrad gets penalized."
He paused, then grinned wickedly.
"But... the faction reps—the top enrollees—will bear massive impact."
"......!"
Kairun's eyes shook below the stage.
"A lord takes blame for faulty vassals. Poor attitude, incidents, failing grades from your faction? Rep pays—via score deductions."
Obvious who cooked this up... Smells like Radianus.
Innovative system laced with bad taste? Bet on the history prof. Faculty were smirking proudly even now.
He's clutching his back, though. Been busy lately.
Anyway, reps start at 50 points. Lowest final score gets penalties for their faction. Not just academics—tests how you lead and manage as a lord. A brutal game masked as noble training.
Thus, Kairun—who entered three years early—was saddled with heavy burdens at a young age.