First blood

Two days later.

The morning sun slanted through cracked glass panes, casting a lazy golden mosaic across the warped floorboards of Class D's classroom.

Dust motes glittered in the air, suspended like forgotten mana.

The usual hum of disinterest filled the space—chairs scraping, bored murmurs, and the uneven tap of Miss Silvia's heels on the stone tiles as she fumbled toward the chalkboard.

Lor slouched in his usual spot at the back, chin propped on his palm, hazel eyes half-lidded behind his messy black hair.

The seat beside him creaked as Nellie fidgeted, her twin braids bouncing with every nervous twitch.

Her standard academy blouse and skirt hugged her petite frame, no trace of the scandalous cat girl costume she'd worn that night in the privacy of her opulent study.

Only Lor knew how she'd looked—velvet clinging to her thick thighs, tail plug glinting, bell chiming with each "meow."

Or how she'd glowed, solving math problems with a confidence he'd never seen in her before.

Miss Silvia dropped a bundle of parchment onto her desk with a clumsy thud, muttering about ink stains on her fingers.

She pinned test results to the board, her enthusiasm barely contained, though her pencil skirt caught on the desk's edge as she turned, riding up just shy of indecency.

A few girls snickered.

Silvia, flustered, tugged it down, cheeks pink, and cleared her throat.

"Alright, Class D! Time to see the results of last week's surprise math exam!" Her voice was bright, but her glasses fogged slightly, betraying her nerves.

The snickering faded.

The room shifted—skirts rustled, spines straightened. Viora leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her green hair glinting under the light.

Myra yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth, her brown eyes dull with disinterest.

Eva glanced sideways at Olivia, who returned a subtle nod, their curvy figures tense in their too-tight uniforms.

Silvia read from the top down, starting with the quiet, unremarkable students—those who neither shone nor crashed spectacularly.

The class barely stirred.

Then—

"Fourth place… Olivia, with Ten points."

"Fifth… Eva, nine points."

Murmurs rippled through the room.

Heads turned.

Eva's lips curved into a sharp, restrained smile, her green eyes glinting with pride, her blue bow steady.

Olivia folded her arms, her wavy bob shimmering as she fought to hide her satisfaction, her tight blouse straining slightly over her busty chest.

"Eight place… Nellie, with five points."

The words landed like a misfired spell.

The classroom froze.

Nellie let out a small, shocked gasp, audible only to Lor.

Viora sat up straighter, her green eyes narrowing.

Myra blinked hard, her yawn cut short.

Even the girls in the front row, usually lost in their own chatter, turned to stare at Nellie, whose braids quivered as she clutched her desk.

"Tenth place… Lor, three points."

Lor didn't react, his face a mask of boredom.

Exactly as planned.

The murmurs grew, a mix of scorn and indifference aimed at him.

"Fourteenth… Viora. One point."

"And last… Myra. Zero."

Silence stretched, heavy and sharp.

Silvia blinked, lips parting as she shuffled the papers, as if hoping for a mistake.

The class held its breath, the weight of the scores sinking in. Viora's jaw tightened, her curvy figure rigid.

Myra stared at the board, unmoving, her usual smirk gone.

Lor's gaze slid to Nellie.

She was trembling—not from fear, but from disbelief.

Her eyes welled with tears, and her lips twitched into a shaky smile.

She glanced at Lor, then dropped her gaze, her face flushing a deep crimson behind her slipping glasses.

He didn't smile, but his hazel eyes softened, and he gave her a slight nod, imperceptible to anyone else.

The bell rang for break, shattering the tension.

Girls spilled into the corridor, their chatter louder than usual, buzzing with Nellie's unexpected score.

Nellie didn't wait—she sprang from her seat, her skirt swishing over her thick thighs, and caught Lor by the classroom door, clutching a small velvet pouch in her trembling hands.

"I… I got this for you, meow," she whispered, the "meow" slipping out from habit, her voice barely audible over the hallway noise.

"I know you said the rituals aren't about gifts, but…" She trailed off, thrusting the pouch into his hand, her braids bouncing nervously.

Lor opened it, his fingers brushing the soft fabric.

Inside was a silver mana pendant, shaped like a cat's paw, enchanted to pulse with a faint warmth when held.

Handmade, delicate, and clearly expensive—a personal, intimate gesture.

His thumb traced the smooth edge, his grin subtle but genuine.

"It's stupid," Nellie muttered, her cheeks burning as she tugged at her skirt. "Forget it, meow—"

"No," Lor said softly, his voice low enough to keep it between them.

"It's good. You earned this, Nellie."

Her gray eyes widened, sparkling with a mix of gratitude and awe.

She opened her mouth, but no words came, only a soft "meow" as she ducked her head, her glasses fogging.

From the corridor's edge, Eva leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, her knit top straining over her full chest.

Olivia stood beside her, chewing a sugar stick too fast, her tight pants accentuating her hips. Neither spoke, but their eyes burned with a mix of suspicion and envy.

"Is that a… gift?" Eva asked, her voice deceptively casual, her green eyes narrowing as she stepped closer.

"Looks expensive," Olivia added, snapping her sugar stick in half.

Nellie flinched, her braids quivering as she clutched her bag.

Lor turned, his hazel eyes glinting with amusement, his posture relaxed despite the tension.

"She passed you, didn't she?" he said, his tone light but cutting.

Eva's smile froze.

Olivia's jaw tightened, her wavy bob swaying as she shifted her weight.

The burn in their eyes lingered, but they didn't retort, their silence louder than words.

Back in the classroom, Viora sat rigid, her green hair catching the light as she stared at the board, her one-point score a raw wound.

Myra, beside her, hadn't moved, her brown eyes fixed forward, her zero a quiet humiliation.

Neither spoke, but their curvy figures were tense, their hands clenched into fists.

The bell rang again, signaling the end of break.

Silvia bustled in, her blouse now buttoned properly, her auburn hair slipping from its bun as she fanned herself with a test paper.

She was oblivious to the storm brewing among her students, her voice bright as she announced the next lesson.

Lor reclined in his chair, his thumb brushing the mana pendant in his pocket, its warmth a reminder of Nellie's loyalty.

The classroom no longer felt like a dumping ground for failures—it was a battlefield, charged with ambition, suspicion, and the faint pulse of his Guiding Light.

Nellie, the timid girl nobody noticed, had drawn first blood with her seven points.

And Lor knew Viora and Myra, watching from their low ranks, were ready to strike back.