The Butterfly's Wings
The chain of misfortunes that had begun that morning was far from over.
"Since today is only the first day, we shall leave it at this and conclude the lecture."
With those words, the middle-aged gentleman Aleister Crowley stroked the tip of his impeccably groomed mustache.
Even the final glimpse of him leaving the classroom radiated perfect gentlemanly poise, and Enri, seated beside me, sparkled with admiration.
"Our homeroom professor seems like such a wonderful man!"
"He possesses manners worthy of being printed in an etiquette textbook."
I snorted inwardly at their words.
That lunatic, manners? A passing dog would laugh itself sick.
Once the storm named Aleister Crowley had passed and a brief lull settled over the room, I finally recalled a problem I had completely forgotten.
Come to think of it… where the hell did William go?
No matter how spacious the lecture hall or how many students filled it, he shouldn't have been this hard to find.
"Young Master, is there something you are searching for?"
Elizabeth asked, her expression puzzled as she watched me scan the classroom for William.
"No, it's nothing."
I shook my head.
I was just considering spreading my mana wide to sense his presence when the rear door of the classroom burst open and a handsome blond young man strode purposefully toward us.
The protagonist always makes a late entrance, is that it?
I had been worried he might not be in the classroom at all, so relief washed over me when it seemed he had merely been late.
That relief was instantly shattered by Enri.
"Oh? William, hi! What brings a Class B student all the way over here?"
Wait—what did she just say?
The protagonist is in Class B?
"Good day, Lady Spencer. Enri, it's been a while."
"Yes, and hello to you as well, Mr. Grantz."
Apparently the three of them had already exchanged full introductions during the earlier terrorist incident, because they casually greeted one another while I sat there dumbfounded.
"So what business do you have in Class A?"
"I had a matter to discuss with Young Master Winchester, so I took the liberty of stopping by."
"You? With the Young Master?"
"Yes."
William nodded to Enri, then walked straight up to me and bowed his head deeply.
"I am truly sorry about this morning. Thanks to the Vice President there was no serious harm, but upon reflection I realized it was conduct I should never have directed at you, Young Master."
I was already struggling just to process the current situation; I had no mental bandwidth left to entertain William's apology.
"I already gave my permission. There's no need to apologize."
I really didn't need it.
So please just vanish from my sight already.
As if I didn't already have more than enough to worry about, the idea that the protagonist himself had been assigned to Class B instead of Class A had never once crossed my mind.
Damn it all… what the hell is going on?
The butterfly's wings I had set in motion had returned as a far greater upheaval than I ever imagined.
"Thank you for overlooking my shortcomings. I, William—though I am a mere commoner of insignificant skill—will come running whenever you have need of me, Young Master."
"…Right."
This is a disaster.
At this rate every early-game event was going to unravel.
There were more than a few events that only progressed because they shared the same class.
I couldn't simply pretend those didn't exist; far too many of them would influence the future.
The mid-bosses were all monsters no one could defeat alone—victory required the protagonist's "party."
Every affection event that takes place inside the classroom or the academy will vanish.
If the bonds of affection disappear, the "party" disappears with them.
That was unacceptable.
While I scrambled for a solution, the others were busy clarifying the morning's incident.
"…And that is how it happened. I also apologize for causing concern to your fiancée, Lady Spencer."
"I have no right to comment on a matter the Young Master has already forgiven. Still, Mr. Grantz, as a student of the Hero Academy you would do well to reflect more carefully on your own conduct."
"Tsk tsk. William, you really do cause trouble wherever you go, don't you?"
"I am truly sorry."
Watching William's dejected face somehow eased the tightness in my chest a little.
Now that the future I knew had already changed, every meticulously laid plan had lost its footing in reality.
First priority: get stronger myself.
With uncertainty multiplying, my own survival came first.
And as for the party—I'll prepare it somehow, then slot that guy in.
He had already volunteered to come running whenever I called, so he could hardly refuse.
Forming a party would take some effort, true, but I had already done it once during the tutorial.
I had even managed to bind these three together already, something that never happened in the game's original story—so realizing the plan didn't seem impossible.
After all, the true protagonist of this world was that guy, and his talent existed solely to be used for the world's sake!
So go on and roll, protagonist.
I'll just set everything up as the extra and then sit back and enjoy the ride.
Inside a dark chamber where twelve chairs stood in a neat row, an abyss-like gloom settled thickly, concealing the figures seated upon them.
Their forms could not be discerned by the naked eye, yet the mana that naturally leaked from them alone was enough to confirm how dangerous they were.
This was the deepest sanctum of the Light of Dawn—a place whose location was known only to a scant few even within the cult itself.
Thus it was rare for anyone to visit, yet the crisp click of dress shoes echoed as a man in a perfectly tailored suit entered.
His identity was the special-grade hero Aleister Crowley.
Ranked 73rd among the Empire's heroes, a high-ranking powerhouse who possessed the S-rank talent Golem Master and an impressive record of achievements.
Naturally, he had no business being here.
A man who had once fought monsters on the Empire's front lines and now served as a professor at the Hero Academy was standing in the innermost sanctum of the Light of Dawn—the organization that worshipped the Demon God and had become the public enemy of the entire world, the Empire included.
Aleister walked to the center of the wide, dark chamber, halted, and dropped to one knee.
"This humble servant of the Great One, Aleister Crowley, greets the Earthly Proxies."
He felt the twelve pairs of eyes turn upon him.
Even though it was merely their gazes resting on him, the transcendent presence made him feel that if he relaxed for even a second his body would burst apart.
Is it even allowed for monsters like these to exist in this world…?!
Aleister abandoned any thought of regarding them as living beings of the same kind as himself.
"Why do the humans who come here always tense up more than necessary?"
"…Maiden, mortals cannot endure our existence."
"But look at him, Colossus. He looks just like a worm crawling on the floor."
"…So long as they claim to be servants of the Great One, we have a duty to watch over them."
Aleister listened to their voices without so much as twitching.
He knew full well that the moment he opened his mouth without their permission he would die the most horrific and agonizing death imaginable.
Someone had already informed him in advance that enough people had died that way to fill an entire castle, so he simply held his breath and waited.
While only those two voices filled the air, a still lower and darker voice called to him.
"Mortal. I trust you already know why you have been summoned here?"
Forced to open a mouth that refused to move, Aleister answered the voice that addressed him.
"The Child of Prophecy… is that correct?"
"Indeed. Have you found the Child of Prophecy?"
The Child of Prophecy.
Eighteen years earlier, a single oracle had descended upon the Light of Dawn.
A child fated to destroy the demonic had been born—find that child and eliminate it.
The Light of Dawn had taken the oracle as their highest mandate and moved on a massive scale to locate and eradicate every child born that year who possessed exceptional mana.
They had hunted without distinction—commoners, nobles, royalty—anyone who met the conditions.
As a result they had become the public enemy of the entire world, targets of extermination; countless believers had been captured and executed or slain on the spot.
Thus the Light of Dawn had acknowledged their mistake, retreated into darker and deeper shadows, and begun to sink roots throughout the world.
One of those many roots—Aleister—spoke.
"Among the countless children, I have discovered the most special and radiant one."
He calmly explained his situation.
"—However, eliminating the child immediately would produce repercussions far too great should it prove not to be the Child of Prophecy."
Therefore precise confirmation was necessary, he added.
They had already targeted the entrance ceremony of the academy where talented eighteen-year-olds gathered.
Yet the terrorist attack meant to wipe out the new students in one stroke had failed to achieve even a minor result.
Consequently security around the academy and the Empire had tightened further, and high-ranking heroes now stood guard near every critical facility within the Empire.
In such circumstances, if the child Aleister disposed of turned out not to be the Child of Prophecy, the worst possibility arose: they might fail to locate the true child for the entire four years until the current freshmen graduated.
"Proceed without error, so that the Great One is not disappointed."
"Of course."
He offered a brief bow and was about to leave when the voice of the one called Maiden caught him by the ankle.
"Oh my, come to think of it, we never even heard the name of the candidate for the Child of Prophecy."
Aleister turned back toward the twelve chairs whose occupants remained nothing more than silhouettes.
"Taylor Winchester."