A Bad Child

"Hing-ing-ing..."

"Don't cry, Titocoga!"

"Everyone's always picking on me, and the light stand big sis said would be super popular just got laughed at... hing-ing-ing!"

Tears streamed down Titocoga's cheeks in heavy rivulets. She wept so sorrowfully that anyone watching would have felt their heart ache with pity.

"That's only because they're idiots! They're total fools who fall for the kidnapper blaming you for not bringing the ransom on time after they're the ones who committed the crime in the first place!"

"The professor isn't a kidnapper, though..."

"He took your grades hostage and told you to hand over homework if you ever ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠want to see them again, didn't he?"

"Is... is that so...?"

Titocoga finally stopped crying.

"You can't go around crying every time your feelings get hurt. How are you supposed to survive in this cutthroat academy if you do?"

"Sniff. Okay. I'll try to get stronger."

Operation: Soothe the Weeping Titocoga was a complete success.

"Orknodi. If you have time later, after this..."

"Sorry. For third period, I've got Basics and Understanding of Mana Usage."

"What about fourth period?"

"Fourth period is Ranged Weapon Mastery."

"And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fifth period is... Adventurer's Night Operations, right?"

"Yep."

Titocoga looked at me as if I were the most pitiful creature walking the earth. In fairness, any student drowning in back-to-back lectures starting right on a Monday morning deserved that exact look.

"Orknodi. To be honest, I was going to drop fifth period starting this week."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But I'm going to muster my courage one more time! Today, I swear I won't pass out during Adventurer's Night Operations."

"...If it's that bad, shouldn't you just drop it?"

"No! I'm definitely going. I can't leave you to sit through that terrifying class all by yourself, Orknodi. We're friends!"

I wasn't sure who was supposed to be worrying about whom, but Titocoga parted ways with a face full of renewed resolve. She was a kind-hearted soul who found far more strength in helping a struggling friend than she ever did in wallowing over her own misery.

A pure meta min-maxer wouldn't have cared if Titocoga got bullied straight into expulsion. But to a seasoned veteran, whims and personal inclination mattered infinitely more than raw numbers.

How could I not help her?

My steps toward my next class felt just a little bit lighter.

That lightness in my stride quickly transformed into a leaden sigh. Professor Weird had just dumped a literal mountain of homework on us.

"Make sure to memorize all twenty formulas. There will be a pop quiz at the start of next class. In addition, analyze five practical use cases for every single formula. Oh, and while you're at it, bringing in an actual physical specimen demonstrating the practical application of each formula would be lovely."

Dorothy raised a trembling hand.

"Professor... that assignment is due next Monday, right?"

"Our next lecture is on Wednesday. Whatever reason would I have to push the deadline back?"

"I just thought... it might be a bit much to finish by then."

"Once you realize just how much more homework I am capable of assigning, you won't think so at all."

At the professor's chilling remark, Dorothy's face drained of all color, and she clapped both hands over her mouth.

Whoa, I almost witnessed Titocoga Unit 2 right there!

With Dorothy's spirit thoroughly crushed, Rosini, an apprentice mage from the Red Magic Tower, stepped up in her stead, fire blazing in her eyes as she protested.

"Professor! This isn't the only class we're taking. We have other courses to attend. There simply isn't enough time to finish all that. Couldn't you cut it down just a little?"

"Who told you to take other courses?"

"Excuse me??"

"Nature magic reigns supreme among all magic. Nature studies stand at the apex of all academic disciplines. If you lack the time to prepare, it is solely because you waste it attending useless, inferior lectures instead of acknowledging that plain truth."

"Wait, if we don't complete our mandatory credits, we can't advance to second year!"

"Oh, that's perfectly fine. Any research student accepted into my laboratory can enroll in upper-year courses without ever advancing in grade. All it takes is a letter of recommendation from me."

The lunatic professor had finally revealed her true colors a mere three lectures in. To think she was demanding that fresh-faced first-years—barely two weeks into academy life—mortgage their entire futures to her and accept a life of indentured laboratory servitude!

As Rosini's face flushed a furious, blazing crimson matching her tower's signature hue, Sandcooker, the apprentice mage from the Yellow Magic Tower who had already been shanghaied into becoming her teaching assistant, spoke up.

"Professor... surely you didn't recruit us as assistants with that exact scheme in mind, did you?"

"And what if I did?"

A collective shudder ran through the lecture hall. The students finally grasped just how cruel and utterly merciless an instructor intoxicated by nature's indifference could be.

Yet Sandcooker, true to the legendary mental fortitude of the Yellow Magic Tower, did not break. He calmly pressed his case.

"What's done is done, Professor. Regrettably, we finalized our course registrations before having the privilege of experiencing your magnificent lectures. Please, treat this as nothing more than the naive folly of green freshmen and grant us your mercy."

"Hmph. Foolish children. Still, I suppose you have slightly more sense than last year's crop. Very well, consider it an act of charity. You may skip the task of collecting physical specimens."

One assignment crossed off the list.

Clap, clap, clap.

Whistle!

Genuine, heartfelt applause rippled through the room. I clapped along with enthusiasm; anyone with the sheer guts to negotiate down an academy professor deserved my utmost respect.

"Naturally," Professor Weird added with an airy smile, "any student who still wishes to submit the specimens is more than welcome to do so."

The class burst into relieved laughter, assuming it was a joke.

"As if anyone has that kind of free time!"

"Seriously. She literally just said we didn't have to."

"Don't you think that's crazy, Orknodi? Nobody in their right mind would ever do extra credit like that."

At Dorothy's comment, I offered an awkward grin and averted my eyes.

"...Orknodi?!"

Sorry, Dorothy. When it comes to bonus Points, I physically cannot resist the grind.

Unlike the relatively peaceful conclusion of nature magic, the end of fourth period—Ranged Weapon Mastery—was a sheer bloodbath that could rival Developing an Eye in sheer brutality.

"Due to the heavy rain advisory issued for today, this session will be conducted indoors."

Targets had been set up inside the training hall, where students practiced firing bows, slinging throwing knives, or discharging firearms. But for Professor Eveningshooter, a centaur drillmaster notorious for accelerating the curriculum so fast she had pitted us in timed sprint trials by our very second class, an indoor substitute session clearly rubbed her the wrong way.

"Seeing as today's training was comparatively trivial, I shall assign homework in its stead. Everyone, strap these bracelets onto your dominant firing wrist."

"Professor? What are these?"

"Ah. These are Automatic Recording Bracelets. They will only unclamp from your wrists once you have executed the mandatory quota of shots and throws. The operation is simple. Instructor, demonstrate."

A seasoned instructor pressed a button on the bracelet, aiming a red laser line at the far wall. With a second click, a shimmering virtual target flickered into existence on the stone surface.

"You will designate a mark, generate the virtual target, and strike as close to the center as possible to record your score. You are required to accumulate a total of one thousand points each across distances of fifty meters, one hundred meters, one hundred and fifty meters, and two hundred meters."

"To prevent fatal accidents, the device will not trigger on or near living organisms, so do not come whining to me that your bracelet is broken. Dismissed."

Target rings ranged from ten points down to zero. That meant, at an absolute minimum, one hundred perfect bullseyes per distance—and realistically, well over a thousand projectiles each for anyone lacking pinpoint accuracy. An absurdly grueling mastery grind!

Dread slowly crept across the students' faces as they realized they might actually die of sheer overwork.

"Orknodi... if we try to finish this legitimately, staying up all night won't even be enough. Isn't there some kind of trick?"

"Oh? You want a shortcut? I can tell you one!"

"For real?! There's a way to cheese it?"

"Climb up as high as you possibly can and project the target down below! Gravity does most of the heavy lifting, so you can loose tons of arrows with barely any effort!"

"Ohhh! That's brilliant! So where do we find a spot like that?"

"A mountain peak? Or maybe a cliff?"

"...You did see what the weather looks like out there, right?"

Man, lower-class students really want everything handed to them on a silver platter, don't they?

"If you want your homework to be easy, you've got to make some sacrifices!"

"Braving a torrential storm while dodging Giant Crabs just to climb a mountain or a cliff sounds way harder than doing the actual homework?!"

"Mob, you're being a total crybaby."

"Aaargh! I'm so mad! I'm losing my mind here!"

Mob clutched his head, thumping his chest in sheer agony.

Why?! I was just giving him helpful tips!!

After that tumultuous string of lectures, dinner arrived, and with it, a thoroughly pouting Isabelle.

"Orknodi. How could you ditch me and leave me all alone with this colossal king crab?"

"I'm sorry, hehe. But I couldn't just leave Titocoga by herself, could I?"

"You've always got an answer for everything, don't you?"

Isabelle let out a soft sigh, roughly ruffled my hair, and pointed toward the table.

"Get over here and snap some legs. The claws are built like iron; we need all the extra hands we can get."

Gathered around the prep station were students from Developing an Eye, all united by a singular, burning ambition: to feast upon succulent king crab meat. Right now, they were locked in mortal combat with the carapace, struggling desperately to shatter the armored legs down to a size that could fit inside the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steamers.

"Okaay~."

He who does not work, neither shall he eat. A timeless truth.

Humming a cheerful tune, I took hold of a thick, spiny leg and snapped it in two with a crisp crack. Beside me, a second-year senior froze mid-motion, his jaw dropping so wide it looked ready to unhinge.

"H-Hey..."

"Yes?"

"I haven't handed out the steel shears yet... Did you just snap that shell with your bare hands...?"

Why would anyone need shears?

"You can just rip it off with muscle, can't you?"

...Seriously, what is with this game labeling everything I do as a "bad child"?

The system notifications were really getting on my nerves today.

Keep pushing me like ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this, system, and I might just go full villain for real.