Mojian looked like a scholar, but his physique told a different story. Though not tall, his body was well-developed, with muscles that belied his scholarly appearance.

  "Was the literary clan a clan of warriors?" Jean wondered. He didn't even know what "literary" meant.

  Mojian's long black hair and smooth, spotless white skin gave him an almost ethereal look. Like any other child his age, his face was small and rather cute. His brown eyes, however, shone with an intensity that contrasted with his scholar's attire, which failed to hide his impressive physique.

  After Mojian's grand speech, Jean simply nodded, deciding not to respond. Anything he said might be taken against him, and he didn't want to get further involved with the proud weirdo.

  Elder Quenlith emerged shortly after, his amiable smile as warm as ever—except when his gaze fell on the edgy brat.

  "Everything is settled now, child," Elder Quenlith said reassuringly. "Let us meet again under better circumstances. On behalf of the elven forest, I thank you for assisting the World Tree Guardian's successor."

  The elder knelt to meet Jean's gaze and gently rubbed his head. Jean was taken aback but found the gesture oddly comforting. Feeling like a child, even briefly, was something he couldn't bring himself to dislike.

  Rising to his feet, Elder Quenlith walked toward the carriage and informed Nina that everything had been arranged for their enrollment. Nina jumped out hurriedly.

  Jean made eye contact with Rian, exchanging a silent promise one last time. No goodbyes were spoken. Everyone went their separate ways.

  As Jean passed through the school gates, his gaze fell on another large signboard, similar to the one outside. This one, however, bore only two words. He couldn't read them, but he didn't need to.

  Mojian's fanatic voice rang out beside him:

  "Always prepare. Great Teacher, your words will be our creed and salvation. I, Mojian, take your teachings upon myself, for I will forever pursue a fraction of your greatness. Bless my insignificant self!"

  Mojian bowed deeply before the signboard, and Jean groaned inwardly. He had a bad feeling that he'd be hearing that speech—and that voice—far too often from now on.

  The group was guided through a massive drill field, nearly empty save for a few scattered students. Today, only six students were set to enroll.

  At the center of the field stood a man. He had a black mane, round ears atop his head, and a tail swaying behind him. His legs bent backward like those of a beast. A beastman.

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  His amber eyes were sharp and piercing as they scanned the children.

  Standing a step behind him was a woman with crimson red hair and striking blue eyes. Her fair skin carried a faint flush, radiating vitality. Though tall, she was still shorter than the beastman. Unlike his stern demeanor, her face carried a welcoming smile.

  "Welcome, children," the man said, his deep voice commanding attention. "I am Roman of Badass, the current principal of this school. It is a tradition to personally welcome every new student—whether one or a thousand, whether once a year or every day.

  "As newcomers, you should know that the principal must give this speech personally, as decreed by the Great Teacher and founder of our school. This ensures no one abuses their authority.

  "Now, regarding your school life: the school will provide all your necessities—clothing, food, and education. You will also receive resources as needed. Until you pass the entrance exam, you will remain cadets, attending classes and undergoing regular training. In return, you'll be assigned tasks such as cleaning, cooking, copying books, or assisting on the farms.

  "Once you become official students, you'll have access to advanced theoretical classes and can choose specialized subjects. All classes are free, and there is no merit-based system. If you wish to pursue something, you may do so freely, but results will be expected.

  "There are no special privileges here—no favoritism, no racial discrimination. Money holds no power within these walls.

  "As for graduation prospects, the paths are endless. The school always welcomes teachers. Teaching talent has nothing to do with strength. You can become an on-campus teacher or a wandering teacher, recruiting, rescuing, and educating children.

  "Those of you who wish to pursue combat will find opportunities anywhere. Our graduates are trained in the combat theories of Aaron Isidor himself, making them highly sought after. Should you choose not to accept such offers, the school will protect you.

  "For those inclined toward crafting and sorcery, graduates may choose to become freelance production specialists if that's what they desire. The Great Teacher once said that the word 'freelance' is a profound term from his homeland, meaning someone who works independently.

  "Finally, one absolute rule: bullying is a capital offense. As the Great Teacher said, 'Those who hurt others for fun should be executed for fun, too. But since they're still children, let's just expel them.' There are no exceptions. No apologies, no compensation. The decision is final.

  "Beware, for the school is always within my field of vision. Wherever you are."

  Principal Roman paused and glanced at the woman behind him. She nodded and stepped forward.

  "I am Isolde of Badass," she said, with Roman nodding back toward her. She continued, "the Vice Principal.

  "You all will be assigned to preparatory classes. The next entrance exam will be held at the end of this month, so you have 20 days to prepare," she said, her tone calm yet firm. "Also, everyone on campus works—be it teachers, students or cadets. Don't think being a student is a special privilege; it only grants higher exposure to teaching theories once you pass the primary level.

  "You need to awaken your mana if you haven't already, and discover your mana affinities. In rare cases where you awaken a gift, you must get familiar with its usage and limitations.

  "I will now escort you to the dorms. Tomorrow morning, you'll receive your schedules and assigned tasks.

  "If you're hungry, the mess hall—the name given by the Great Teacher—is still serving food. Your daily necessities will be ready in the dorm you're assigned to.

  "Good luck, students, and my future junior brothers."