Under the barrage of juvenile stares from both sides, Sirin was undoubtedly the most composed person in the center of the field.
After all, compared to everyone else here, she used to be a literal queen! Even if her subjects were nothing but Homus, she was more than accustomed to this kind of grand spectacle.
Bronya possessed an incredibly resilient mind—being stared at simply couldn't shake her resolve—but what she was doing was ultimately just "enduring."
That was completely different from Sirin, who was actively enjoying it.
Beside Sirin, Frelly (i forgot her name, she kinda there so well) remained perfectly expressionless under the scrutiny, acting as if being surrounded by thousands of gaping onlookers was just another Tuesday.
A strong heart might be partially innate, but in this world, the ability to remain impassive even if 'Mount Tai collapsed before you' was something largely forged through experience.
For instance, Sirin and Frelly had both experienced extreme wealth and status.
Or, for example, Shu, who had witnessed things far more devastating than the collapse of Mount Tai.
Oh, Mei was actually in the same boat, having forged her composure through her aristocratic upbringing. As for Kiana...
That was just innate. You really couldn't learn that kind of oblivious confidence.
"Sirin, perhaps we should keep a lower profile?" Frelly suggested earnestly with a soft sigh.
"Low profile? For what?" Sirin tilted her head back, eyes closed in a haughty expression, completely dismissing the attention.
But Frelly only needed to think for a second to guess that Sirin was absolutely listening to every single whisper around them. She was probably already scribbling names into a mental burn book.
Fortunately, Frelly hadn't heard any blatant insults in the crowd's chatter. Otherwise, school had barely started, and Sirin's nickname might have already shifted from "Queen" to "Monster."
Thump, thump—
Two heavy taps suddenly echoed across the noisy athletic field. Startled by the sound, the gossiping children immediately raised their heads and looked toward the podium.
At some point, a tall, gray-haired woman wearing a tailored, professional suit had strode onto the stage. Standing proudly beneath the Fire-Moth flag, she held a microphone and swept her gaze over the thousands of children below.
She held no script. She merely took a confident step forward and brought the mic to her lips.
"My name is Natasha Cioara. I am the Principal of this Fire-Moth Academy. From now on, you may call me Natasha, Principal Natasha, Principal, or whatever else you prefer."
She paused for half a beat.
"I know some of you recognize me, and some of you don't.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that starting today, every single one of you—no matter where you came from, no matter which city, which shelter, or which orphanage you lived in before—you are now students of this school.
"You are the very first generation of children to receive a formal education after the Great Eruption. You will also be the ones following in our footsteps, the next generation to stand where we are standing now.
"Here, you will learn the skills suited to you—the skills we need, or the skills we will need in the future. Then, you will use those skills to create a better environment and more choices for your juniors.
"Maybe you can't comprehend such complex concepts right now. But you only need to remember one thing."
She looked out over the sea of eager little heads, meeting their gazes one by one. Finally, she offered them a smile.
"When the sky falls, us adults will be here to hold it up.
"If you feel sorry for us, then study hard. If you resent us, or resent this school, that's fine too. As long as you can prove you don't need to study to become a Fire-Moth soldier, I will gladly approve your leave of absence.
"But if you lack the ability to prove that you're a genius whose time is being wasted by us... Heh. I'm sorry, but the students of this school do not have the right to quit."
"This school didn't fall from the sky, and neither did your right to attend it. We are not obligated to provide you with compulsory education. Just being able to attend this school is a stroke of incredible luck."
The field fell dead silent.
"I don't want to preach to you about 'meaning' or 'purpose.' Meaning is a luxury you only discuss when your stomach is full.
"I am only doing one thing here—making sure your stomachs are full, making sure you have classes to attend, making sure you have a place to sleep, and making sure you live long enough to grow up. To grow old enough to decide for yourselves what you want to do with your lives."
She paused for a long time.
"School has officially begun. That is all."
She took a step back, set the microphone firmly on its stand, and marched off the stage with the exact same brisk, commanding stride she had arrived with, looking like she had to go save the world.
Below the stage, the silence held. The gathered children didn't even dare to breathe too loudly.
"Hiss... Old Hag—cough—I mean, wasn't Teacher Natasha a little too harsh?" Lyle sucked in a breath of cold air through his teeth. "Applying pressure the moment school starts... is this some kind of tradition?"
At this moment, Lyle, Sora, and Adam were also sitting among the special group in the center of the field, open for public viewing. However, aside from Sora—who was hugging Mark II—Lyle and Adam gave off a distinct aura of complete unremarkability.
The two boys' passive stealth skills were so effective that the crowd essentially ignored them, and Sora along with them. But the trio was perfectly fine with that, happily sitting together and murmuring among themselves.
"The teacher can definitely hear you, Lyle," Sora said, feeling a bit helpless about Lyle's stubborn nicknames.
"Oh, Sister Sora, my wonderful Sister Sora, my Boss! If I get exposed, my life is forfeit, and the Sky Dome Bunny Squad will be down a man! You're a magnanimous person, you definitely won't snitch on me to the teacher, right?!"
Lyle pressed his hands together in a desperate plea, making a miserable face as he tried to invoke Sora's mercy.
"But Sister Sora is an amnesiac child. She has absolutely zero compassion for Lyle."
"Didn't Teacher Natasha already borrow that book to help treat your memory?!" Lyle countered in sheer panic, reading Sora's blatant intent from the single eye not covered by her hair.
Then, Lyle turned and punched Adam, who had casually provided the narrator's voiceover. "Don't set me up, my best friend! My life is literally on the line here!"
"Who told Lyle he couldn't keep his mouth shut?" Adam casually blocked the strike, his tone perfectly deadpan. "You've already been caught multiple times, yet you still insist on running your mouth. You deserve it."
"Fine, fine, my bad. I'll definitely give Teacher Natasha a proper apology later." Having surrendered, Lyle pulled the two of them closer. "But let's talk business. Why was Teacher Natasha's speech so..."
"It's a show of dominance!" Adam took a deep breath, delivering his conclusion with absolute certainty. "Teacher Natasha is definitely establishing dominance! I've seen it on TV before..."
"Right, right... wait, hold on..." Lyle's first instinct was to completely trust his best friend's unhinged theories, but he quickly realized what a "show of dominance" usually implied.
"Isn't that what the bad guys do to the good guys? Could it be..." Lyle's shock gradually morphed into an expression of profound understanding, and he wiggled his eyebrows at Adam.
Adam initiated a tactical lean back. He felt like he was being slandered.
"I think the teacher probably has another reason... like... maybe someone else is going to say the things she actually wanted to say?" Sora pondered out loud.
"I highly doubt that."
"Hard to say."
Her left and right-hand men immediately shot down her theory in unison.
Meanwhile, another figure was already jogging up onto the podium. Lyle briefly glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "Hm? Is there a student representative speech too?"
"That's Principal Theresa!" Adam mercilessly delivered a long-premeditated chop to the top of Lyle's head.
That was a close one. Another second and Lyle would have actually seen who was on stage.
Carrying a massive stack of manuscript papers, Theresa scurried up to the podium.
The podium, which perfectly reached Natasha's chest, completely swallowed Theresa's figure. The crowd could only see a single, tiny hand desperately reaching up, trying to grab the microphone stand.
Unsurprisingly, she failed.
The entire field sat in complete silence for about half a second. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept across the podium. A dark blur dashed off the stage and returned almost instantly.
When the wind died down, the crowd finally saw Principal Theresa's incredibly dignified head poking out over the top of the podium.
Down in the center of the field, Bronya and Bianca silently turned to look at the stash of extra plastic stools.
One was missing.
"Ahem—!" Theresa's childish voice boomed through the microphone, triggering a new wave of commotion.
They thought the kids sitting down were the limit, but apparently, there was an even more absurd hidden boss?
"Hello, students. I am your Principal, Theresa Apocalypse.
"Of course, the actual Principal of this academy is still Natasha. I'm just the homeroom teacher for the St. Freya Branch. However, I will be your teacher from now on, so you must respect me just as much as you respect Natasha!
"If you didn't understand what Principal Natasha meant earlier, that's perfectly fine. The main takeaway is that you absolutely, positively must study hard!"
Having hastily slapped a conclusion onto Natasha's speech, Theresa raised her manuscript, sorted the pages, and took a deep breath.
"Now, I will recite the St. Freya Branch Student Handbook.
"There are a total of thirty-eight rules, each with an addendum. I know everyone is eager to return to their classrooms, so I will try to read as fast as I can."
She flipped through her papers, cleared her throat, and began, her voice slightly nervous.
"First, Rule Number One: Bullying between students is strictly prohibited..."
The next half hour was absolute despair.
Before the students of Fire-Moth Academy had even attended a single class, they had already developed a profound, terrified prejudice against their future school lives.
A horrifying glimpse into their inevitable future had just been broadcast to them.
On the surface, it sounded like Theresa was simply explaining the rules in earnest. But in reality, the true psychological damage came from the 'addendums' she kept casually tossing out.
The rules themselves were concise and easy to understand; even a paramecium could grasp them.
Yet Theresa insisted on attaching a convoluted explanation to every single rule, dragging things out until they became infinitely more complicated. Worse, she peppered her explanations with bizarre, hyper-specific hypothetical scenarios she had clearly spent all night fabricating.
The opening ceremony instantly transformed into a deeply unsettling, legally ambiguous lecture. Theresa delivered every sentence with earnest gravity, lacing her tone with a sense of "I'm doing this for your own good," leaving her audience completely bewildered.
Her max-level public speaking skills completely clashed with the utterly nonsensical content she was delivering.
"It is absolutely prohibited to repeatedly vault over the school wall to skip class or sneak out for snacks, and it is strictly forbidden to randomly punch anyone who gets in your way into the stratosphere while doing so! Absolutely prohibited!"
Who?!
Me?!
The innocent children were struck by a profound wave of 'school violence' shock. For a moment, the field erupted into terrified murmurs.
"Would someone really jump the wall just to get into a fight?" Lyle asked, completely in disbelief.
If Theresa had used skipping school to go pick fights as an example, Lyle... might have believed it. After all, the kind of delinquents gutsy enough to start turf wars wouldn't find jumping a wall too difficult.
But jumping a wall just to skip class and sneak snacks? And casually punching bystanders into the stratosphere along the way?
Who was she even talking about?! Who could possibly be that ferocious?!
"Hard to say..." Adam looked deeply conflicted. After mulling it over for a long time, those were the only words he could muster.
The world was vast and full of wonders. Who knew if a god-tier delinquent like that actually existed?
"Achoo!"
Still sprawled out in bed, a certain white-haired furball violently sneezed, waking up in a daze. A second later, she blearily closed her eyes again, mumbling in her sleep.
"Aunt Himeko... I'm really sorry..."
Yeah, could someone like that really exist in this world?
Nobody knew. Kiana maintained she had never met anyone like that.
Half an hour later, Theresa finally concluded her psychological torture. Looking incredibly satisfied, she set down her manuscript, threw out a few minutes of generic encouragement, and finally hopped off her plastic stool.
Just because Theresa was done didn't mean this dry, endlessly long opening ceremony was over. In fact, the speech segment hadn't even concluded.
It dragged on so long it made everyone drowsy, inevitably leading them to wonder what the actual point of all this was.
It wasn't until the next speaker took the stage that the restless, noisy field fell completely silent once more.
Sitting in the front row, Bronya raised her eyes in surprise.
Mei calmly ascended the podium. She nodded politely to Theresa, then took the microphone.
She wore a tailored formal suit, looking dignified yet undeniably beautiful. A wave of reliable, mature elegance radiated from her, compelling everyone to pay her their full attention.
But... why is Sister Mei here?
Natasha was the Principal. Theresa was their homeroom teacher and the director of Project St. Freya.
Following that logic, the next person up should have been their actual instructor, Joachim... Could it be that Sister Mei was also going to be one of their teachers?
Bronya didn't think so.
At the very least, she knew the current Mei wouldn't become a teacher... because if Mei became a teacher, then idiot Kiana would definitely demand an equivalent position. But Kiana had been loudly, mockingly teasing Bronya about going to school just yesterday. Clearly, Kiana hadn't received any such assignment.
The mere thought of having to respectfully call idiot Kiana "Teacher" as a student made Bronya feel incredibly nauseous.
What could Kiana possibly teach? Her unreasonable innate talent? Her completely broken, overpowered stats?
The only things idiot Kiana could teach were her practical combat experience and battle IQ, and when it came to those...
Bronya firmly believed her own were far superior!