First Sword Class
Nothing beats the thrill of a first time. First love, first experience, first ejaculation, first childbirth.
Attach the prefix "first" to anything, and you get an instantly exciting word.
Today was finally the freshmen’s first day of school. We'd just finished the entrance ceremony yesterday, and dorm assignments were set.
The campus layout was still unfamiliar, but time waited for no one. Amid the chaotic mix of excitement and nerves, the big day arrived.
The academy dorms are scattered in different directions. Oracle Dorm is north of the undergraduate campus, Tempest Dorm to the west, Ibis Dorm to the east, and Drake Dorm to the south.
With these distinct dorms positioned around the campus, students head to class in groups from the same dorm.
Though the undergraduate programs split into Martial Arts and Magic Departments, there are shared core classes and cross-enrollment options. The department buildings are practically adjacent, fostering lively interactions. But bonds within the same dorm often run deeper than departmental ties.
The campus we'd glimpsed yesterday was still vast, majestic, and stunning. Centered around the enormous Practice Hall to the south lay the Student Council Hall, where Scarlett senior and I had first met. The beautiful blue building overwhelmed the eyes even on a second look.
To the Practice Hall's east cluster the Martial Arts Department classrooms; to the west, the Magic Department ones. Each building housed over ten lecture halls. The Practice Hall is shared by both departments, making it the hotspot for inter-department mingling.
Incidentally, a quick rundown on the academy structure: It's a six-year system. Terms start in March, wrapping up the first semester in June, followed by July and August vacations. Second semester runs September to December, then promotion to the next year.
Undergraduates divide mainly into Magic and Martial Arts Departments. Magic teaches spells, as you'd expect; Martial Arts covers swordsmanship, spearmanship, fisticuffs, and the like.
Even starting the same year, different departments mean no shared classes unless you're dormmates—outside of core or elective courses.
That's why Student Council staff form especially tight bonds, united by the massive organization beyond dorm lines.
I'm in Martial Arts. Protagonist Johan has zero aptitude for magic.
“Johan. You in Martial Arts too?”
Axelro, walking to class with me, struck up a chat. The brown-robed Oracle Dorm students heading to campus looked like a massive flock migrating en masse.
These guys were probably big shots back home, but seeing them like this, I get why people avoid Oracle Dorm. Poor bastards.
“Yeah. Magic just doesn't suit me. So I picked swordsmanship.”
Fantasy worlds mean swords and magic. Johan goes with the sword.
“So you've got aptitude for swordsmanship?”
Axelro's tone carried a subtle mocking edge—not malicious, just teasing. Even knowing that, I wanted to flick his forehead.
For reference, Axelro hails from the demon realm; he's a demonkin.
The demon realm has as many races as the human world. Demonkin hold a position like humans there. Mid-realm humans are just humans; celestial humans are celestials.
Note: Celestials and angels aren't the same, just as demonkin and devils differ. Mix them up, and both will hate you for it.
“I've got confidence in swordsmanship.”
I shrugged, but Axelro looked skeptical. No need to score points with a dead man walking anyway.
Ignoring him, I headed to the lecture halls. First-year Martial Arts swordsmanship class was in a small southeast building with an attached training ground. Straw dummies stood at intervals across the field, wooden swords placed before each.
Early in the semester, lost freshmen wandered, auras flickering as they searched. Student Council staff dotted the area, guiding them.
I found the building without help. A human like me asking would just earn sneers. Some staff eyed me like they were itching for trouble. Brushing them off, I entered.
Swordsmanship is the Martial Arts Department's flagship class—most students major in it.
Even combining fist, spear, and axe fighting barely edges it out. Fantasy classics: swords rule.
I was first to the training ground. Soon, others trickled in, faces tense. Original story bit players looked more relaxed. I scanned their faces, mapping out future plans.
“Know who the instructor is?”
“It's in the handbook. Supposedly a big name at the academy.”
“Nervous. Hope my family style holds up here...”
Most clustered by dorm. I was solo, naturally.
Thud, thud.
As class time hit, someone approached slowly from across the field. All eyes turned.
The attention-grabber was a warrior woman with bronzed skin and taut muscles that screamed appeal. Her lion-mane brown hair cascaded to her waist, her face scarred ruggedly.
Her outfit? Black sports bra and red leggings—an outrageously bold, cheat-code combo. Standing before us, she planted a wooden sword upside-down like a staff, hands clasped atop it, surveying us rookies with a fierce grin.
“Come on in, you greenhorns.”
Her smirking face was a sight. The fine scars weren't flaws—they enhanced her. Scattered wounds dotted her chiseled chocolate abs, blending perfectly.
God, I wanted to bury my face in those leggings, inhaling her sweaty musk. A top-tier chocolate dispenser right there, and here I was, powerless.
Rubbing my cock against those bouncy, elastic tits would be heaven. Those scars add that bumpy texture for extra fun. And that cannonball ass—firm, unlike any woman's I've had. Gotta be a whole new flavor!
Her gaze swept the group slowly, lips curled in playful mischief. Sizing up the promising sprouts. Any talent here to satisfy her?
Probably. I knew one well: me, Johan, top of the list.
“Nice to meet you! I'm Bernehardt Line. For the next year, I'll drill basic swordsmanship into your bones. Fun fact: I was once a student here like you.”
She grinned mischievously, scanning us again—like a playful rascal.
Her personality matched: Bernehardt, macho name on a beastly frame, hid a mischievous streak.
“Quick quiz: Which dorm was I from?”
Here it came—Bernehardt's class tradition: asking freshmen her dorm.
Scanning around, one guy flinched. Original story's quiz ace and promising sprout, Vintz Kartman. But I raised my hand first.
I wanted on good terms with Bernehardt. One of the women I craved to fuck. That athlete pussy had to be insanely tight. Tighter than Yeonji's?
“Oho. The famous Johan. Broke the record with 20 demerits on day one. So, what's your answer?”
Most would guess Drake or Tempest. But obvious answers are usually wrong. No point otherwise.
“Ibis.”
My reply shocked two: Bernehardt and Vintz. Others snorted.
“Idiot. Obviously Tempest or Drake.”
“Humans don't even know basics. Kinda pathetic.”
“That guy's Oracle, right? Figures.”
Mockery was old news. Bernehardt crossed her arms, eyebrow arched, staring intently—like a vital lioness claiming territory.
“Why think that?”
“Saw the droplet pendant on your neck. That's the emblem of the academy's sword circle 'Lake's Blade.'”
The academy has many circles. Not as big as Student Council, but prestigious. Stronger bonds than dorms sometimes.
Lake's Blade is Martial Arts sword students' circle—all Ibis alumni. Still active, invites only promising Ibis freshmen.
“Sharp eyes. Vital for swordsmen; it'll save you in a pinch. Good. Johan, one merit point.”
“Thank you.”
Merit point earned. Academy has demerits and merits. 100 demerits? Expulsion. 100 merits? Pick any weapon from the central armory.
Huge perk—stocked with rare gear. Black market deals abound.
Caught? Student expelled (100 demerits), teacher fired. Happens yearly.
Principal manages armory personally; even rowdy Student Council can't touch it.
Merits strictly tracked like demerits—teachers need justification.
She'd pre-filed and approved this.
“Probably the first freshman merit ever, Johan. First for demerits too. I'll keep an eye on you.”
She flashed a charming eye-smile. As she said, I was worth watching.
“Alright. Let's start class proper.”