A Star in the Lowest Class
Arpia Academy. A thousand years ago, the seven heroes who distinguished themselves in the great war between the human and demon races pooled their strength to establish this training ground for future heroes.
It was said to have begun as a modest little dormitory in those distant days, but now—with the entire continent pouring resources into it—its splendor rivaled the imperial capital itself.
If I had to put it into words, this grand auditorium, backed by the support of an entire continent, was simply too beautiful for a girl who had grown up in a rural village.
“Wow…!”
The reaction slipped out before I could stop it, sounding every bit as unsophisticated as it felt. And honestly, it wasn’t just her—even I, a city kid who had only ever seen this place through a monitor, wasn’t immune. I focused hard on keeping my poker face intact.
The empire and the federation supplied basic materials like stone and timber. Dwarves and gnomes, those master artisans, shaped and stacked them with flawless precision. Elves poured their legendary craftsmanship into the wooden furnishings that filled every corner. As for the beastfolk and barbarians? Handiwork wasn’t their strong suit, so they sat this one out—but they had spent years defending this massive island from the magical beasts that constantly assaulted it.
Through that transcendent collaboration of races, the building raised by artisans whose names had echoed through countless eras was breathtaking in a way no monitor could ever capture.
“Hey. You two are the last ones. Hurry up and get inside.”
An assistant instructor finally called out to them, apparently tired of watching the pair stand motionless in front of the auditorium, staring up at the building. Hint studied the man carefully. He looked familiar, but the name refused to surface.
As Hint and Stelle hurried over, the instructor opened his roster.
“Procedure is procedure. Name?”
“It’s Hint.”
“Right, Hint. You’re F-class. Go inside and take your seat.”
“Understood.”
Ah, that’s right.
Now that he saw him again, this was the NPC who informed new students of their class upon entering the auditorium. He barely appeared after this scene, which was why the memory had been so hazy.
The assistant handed him a small brooch along with the instructions. The red pin, symbolizing first-years, had an elegant ‘F’ engraved in flowing script.
The lowest rank in the academy. The very bottom. First in line for expulsion. The worst possible class, denied even the right to properly use the academy’s basic facilities.
Exactly as expected. Hint fastened the brooch to his chest. …Even though he had anticipated it, actually wearing the mark of the lowest class didn’t feel pleasant at all.
“Then I’ll head inside first.”
“Yeah! See you later!”
Did she still not understand what the brooch meant?
Stelle gave him a bright, innocent smile and waved. In the original story she should have been placed straight into S-class. Of course, to keep events flowing as they were meant to, Hint would eventually make subtle contact—but for the time being they wouldn’t be seeing each other.
I still need to collect the hidden pieces and grind my own stats anyway.
The entrance welcome exam was coming up immediately, followed by the senior-junior exchange in a week and midterms in a month and a half. Raising the protagonist was important, but F-class was a position where failure to prove your talent or skill within the first semester meant immediate expulsion. His own growth mattered just as much.
And above all else, there was one comforting fact about the first semester: the protagonist didn’t need to be worried about at all.
In the original route, the first semester feels more like a pure youth story.
A time when you could focus on building relationships and raising your specs without any real threat of expulsion or game over. Naturally, if you tried hard enough to screw up you could still trigger a bad end, but barring deliberate stupidity, it shouldn’t happen.
“It’s magnificent.”
Stepping into the auditorium revealed rows of new students already seated, waiting for the ceremony to begin. The exterior had been beautiful enough to draw involuntary admiration, but the interior operated on an entirely different level—it felt like stepping into another world.
Hint glanced around, looking for the F-class seating. Fortunately he didn’t have to search far. Right in front of the entrance he had just used, in a somewhat isolated spot, sat two chairs. A placard reading F CLASS had been planted in front of them, making the location impossible to miss.
He sat down. The moment he did, he felt several gazes turn his way. None of them were kind.
“Hey, look over there. It’s F-class.”
“Whoa… There really are people who show up at the academy with an F.”
“Still, he doesn’t look half bad.”
“Who cares what he looks like? He’s F-class.”
Were they under the impression their voices wouldn’t carry? Or did they simply not care if they did?
The mocking comments flew in from the E-class seats directly ahead. They themselves belonged to one of the lowest tiers, so they had probably felt quite intimidated—until an even easier target appeared. Now they were enjoying themselves.
It didn’t particularly sting, and Hint saw no reason to react, so he let the words go in one ear and out the other. More than anything, the reason he couldn’t spare them any attention was the empty seat right beside his own. That vacant chair loomed far larger in his mind.
Is it just a courtesy seat?
In the original story, F-class was supposed to be him alone. So why was there an extra chair?
The answer arrived moments later—in the worst possible form.
“Ah, Hint! We’re in the same class!”
“Ah, Hint! We’re in the same class!”
Someone in E-class slapped a hand over their mouth with an audible gasp. The loud whispers that had been deliberately meant to be overheard abruptly died.
Well, even after seeing her dozens—hundreds—of times through a monitor, Stelle’s beauty was still shocking. It was only natural that boys seeing her for the first time would be stunned.
“Nice to see you again!”
Stelle sat down with an utterly casual smile. A bead of cold sweat slid down Hint’s cheek. Only one question filled his mind.
“Yes, what a coincidence, Stelle.”
Why are you here?
Tales of Sword & Magic was indeed a game with considerable freedom. But that freedom came from training methods, heroine routes, and countless branching paths—the progression through Chapter One remained fixed.
No matter how thoroughly you abused the ‘stat adjustment’ and ‘trait selection’ features available from the second playthrough onward, the standard start for Chapter One was S-class. Something flashed through Hint’s mind. He swallowed hard, tension rising.
With a faint hope that he might be wrong, he asked, “Stelle. You haven’t seen any ‘starlight’ lately, have you?”
“I have! I look at the sky a lot at night!”
Despite the abrupt question, the girl answered without hesitation. That pure, clueless expression made Hint’s heart plummet with dread.
The academy worshipped talent and sang the praises of strength. Yet if forced to choose between the two on a scale, the academy would pick talent without the slightest hesitation.
Strength is something the academy can provide.
That belief was the pride and dignity of an institution that had raised countless heroes. In the original story, the academy would have seen Stelle’s blessing and placed her in S-class without question.
Blessing of the Stars
The legendary blessing said to have belonged to the first hero. It grants boundless growth potential.
She possessed that very blessing.
But veterans hated the Blessing of the Stars. Regardless of its power, it had a tendency to shatter the carefully optimized builds they had spent countless playthroughs perfecting. That was why they always disabled it before starting a new cycle.
Even then, there had been no problem—Tales of Sword & Magic offered no alternate routes until the end of Chapter One. Starting in S-class was still guaranteed even without the blessing.
But what if that rule no longer applied in reality?
I’m certain I disabled the Blessing of the Stars before playing…
Lowest possible stats. No blessing whatsoever.
There was only one place a girl like that could end up.
F-class.
Completely unaware of the inferno raging inside Hint’s chest, this 100% natural, thousand-year-old beautiful girl grabbed his collar and asked cheerfully, “Waiting is so boring~ When do you think the entrance ceremony will start?”
Emergency level: critical.
Hint’s mind went completely white.