Chapter 601 – The Gold in the Glass
Two years had passed since the first casks of Aten rice beer were opened to the public.
What had begun as a curiosity—a farmer's experiment and an alchemist's spark—had become one of the world's most popular drinks.
In the heart of Buenos Aires, the air was thick with the smell of barley, hops, and the faint sweetness of Aten rice. The Argentine breweries, once small family businesses, had grown into sprawling complexes where artisans worked alongside awakened alchemists. And among their creations, one drink stood above the rest: Golden Aten Brew.
People lined up in streetside beer gardens, lifting mugs that glowed faintly under the sun.
"It's not just beer anymore," someone said, raising their glass. "This is art."
The secret was collaboration.
The global brewing industry had changed the day breweries began hiring lower-level magical families.
They brought with them secret alchemical methods—enhanced fermentation processes, purification arrays, and heat manipulation—that changed the very nature of brewing.
What began as a business deal became something bigger.
Beer brewed with the Sunveil family: golden with a light citrus flavor and a smooth aftertaste.The Bronzebough blend: darker, rich with earthy tones that lingered on the tongue.Frostvine Brew: chilled naturally by ice-element magic during fermentation, crisp and clear.
Each family's alchemist added their own symbol to the logo, so customers began collecting the different bottles as if they were rare editions.
The families, once hesitant to work with common breweries, quickly realized the partnership benefited both sides.
"It's harmless," one alchemist said in an interview. "We aren't enchanting weapons or making war magic. We're making beer. And for that, we get funding, shares, and a place for our younger members to practice their craft."
Breweries prospered.
Magical families prospered.
And the people rejoiced.
Bars began putting up boards with chalk-written lists of the latest collaboration brews, and even casual drinkers learned to talk like experts:
"Ah, this one's from the Andino Sunveil batch—see the little sun symbol? Smooth and light."
"No way, I prefer Bronzebough's logo. Deep flavor. It's like the forest in a mug."
In the evenings, streets all over the world were full of people sharing beer under warm lights. And though the dangers of the Great Old Ones had left their scars on history, the mood in these places was different now—relaxed, hopeful.
The taste of Aten rice beer had become a symbol of the new age: a drink that belonged to everyone.
While beer from Argentina, Brazil, and Europe had taken the civilian world by storm, it also made its mark on those who lived dangerous lives.
In Nevada, at the Sentinel Guild headquarters, the once-empty hall that had started with a few dozen retired soldiers had transformed into a fortress filled with life.
Two years after its founding, the Guild had grown to more than a thousand members, drawing retired elites and awakened veterans from all over the world. What began as a small group of hunters had become an international force.
And at the heart of the building, past the armory and the training fields, was the room that almost everyone agreed was the most important: The Bar.
What had started as a simple table and a keg for the original members had grown into a wide, polished space, stocked with bottles from every corner of the world.
The walls were decorated with painted emblems:
Frostvine Brew from CanadaSunveil Citrus from ArgentinaBronzebough Earth Brew from EuropeAnd smaller logos from magical families in Asia and Africa.
A massive chalkboard displayed the newest collaboration brews, updated weekly.
It had become a tradition: after every mission, whether small or dangerous, the team reported back, handed over their after-action notes… and ended the night with a glass in hand.
"You know," one Sentinel joked as he raised his glass, "this is probably the only organization in the world where the beer tap gets more maintenance than the rifles."
Beer had become more than just a drink here.
It was how they unwound, how they remembered those who weren't there to drink with them, and how they welcomed new members. More than one oath to join the Guild had been sealed with the clink of mugs.
When asked by a journalist why the bar was so important, a former SAS member smiled and said:
"You don't understand. After years of war, we didn't think there was a future. Now? We sit here with beer brewed from rice that came out of a miracle, and we know things are better. It's the taste of peace."
In the Sentinel Guild, beer wasn't just popular—it was part of their identity.
Beyond the warmth of their bar and the clinking of mugs, the Sentinel Guild had become something much larger.
Their growth to over a thousand members had brought with it a structured network of alliances with governments, the Magic Association, and independent hunters.
Whenever rogue vampires, demons, or awakened criminals appeared, Sentinel teams were the first to arrive—not because of flashy spells or overwhelming power, but because of their discipline and coordination.
Unlike magicians who hurled fire and lightning across a battlefield, the Sentinels practiced a different style.
Their magic was quiet and invisible to the eye, focused on:
Reinforcing their muscles and bones for speed and enduranceEnhancing weapons: bullets that could pierce barriers, knives that could cut through magic shieldsSharpening senses to read the battlefield with precision
For ordinary magicians, these techniques were basic spells taught in beginner classes.
But in the hands of the Sentinels, after years of repetition and refinement, these same spells had been honed into something far deadlier.
"They don't need to summon storms," one hunter said after working with them. "They are the storm. You never see it coming until it's too late."
Through constant drills, missions, and innovation, they had turned what most considered a foundation into a lethal art. Some magicians who worked with them even admitted that the Sentinels' practical magic was far more reliable in close combat than the grand techniques that drained enormous amounts of mana.
A Sentinel sergeant explained it during an interview:
"We don't need to impress anyone with fireworks. Flashy magic makes you a target. What we do—body reinforcement, weapon enhancement—it's simple. Efficient. Clean. And if you do something ten thousand times, even a simple spell becomes something else."
This philosophy shaped their entire approach. Missions weren't about style—they were about results. And after two years, there was no denying that results were exactly what they delivered.
The news came during a quiet afternoon, announced over the Guild's internal comms and confirmed on every government channel within the week:
Special forces units from multiple countries would be arriving at the Nevada headquarters—not as allies on a mission, but as students.
Unlike the Sentinels, these soldiers were new to fighting supernatural threats.
They had experience in conventional warfare, but the governments of their respective nations had realized that mana had changed the world forever. They couldn't rely on outdated strategies.
The Magic Association could teach them spells.
But only the Sentinel Guild could teach them how to survive.
Inside the bar that evening, the topic dominated every table.
"Newbies, huh?" a former Delta Force member said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
"Can you imagine? These kids are going to walk in here thinking we'll show them how to throw fireballs."
"Yeah," a Spetsnaz veteran added, swirling his mug, "and the first thing they'll learn is that we don't throw anything except fists and bullets."
"Let them try flashy magic," another joked. "They'll be lucky if they can keep their breath steady after their first ten-mile reinforcement run."
The Guild made it clear:
These visiting soldiers would not be members of the Sentinel Guild. They would be trainees, spending six months learning how to:
Strengthen their bodies with mana efficientlyUse basic enhancement magic in live combatMove as a unit against supernatural threatsThink beyond human limits without losing discipline
The request had come from multiple governments at once, a rare sign of agreement in a fractured world. And it was more than just a training program. It was a signal that the techniques of the Guild, once dismissed as "primitive," had earned worldwide respect.
By the time the list of participating countries was released, the Sentinels were already preparing.
Some looked forward to mentoring. Others, especially the older veterans, just wanted to see the rookies sweat.
"They'll walk out of here different," the Guild Master said. "If they make it through."
The announcement of international trainees stirred pride in the Guild—but also a certain understanding among its members. They all knew why the governments wanted their soldiers to learn here.
It wasn't just about mana.
It was about experience.
While many active-duty special forces around the world had only recently begun adapting to mana and the new reality, the Sentinels had started from a different place.
These were retired soldiers.
Men and women who had already fought decades of battles, learned every lesson the hard way, and survived wars long before magic was ever part of the equation.
When mana came into their lives, they didn't waste time experimenting with flashy new spells.
"We didn't have to guess what we needed," said one veteran during a briefing. "We already knew. Strength, speed, precision. Not tricks. Not fireworks."
They had a lifetime of discipline, tactics, and close combat drilled into them.
So when they learned basic enhancement spells—magic that ordinary magicians dismissed as simple—they applied every lesson they had learned in the field.
Every mission made them sharper. Every year of age made them wiser.
This was why they advanced so quickly.
"The difference," one Sentinel explained to a curious journalist, "is that those special forces units overseas are still learning how to fight and cast at the same time.
We already knew how to fight. All we had to do was add mana to what we'd been doing for a lifetime."
The result was a style of magic that no textbook could teach—polished through real battles, and refined through endless repetition.
It was this gap—this decades-deep reservoir of combat experience—that the governments of the world wanted their new generation of soldiers to absorb.
Chapter 602 – The Time We Never Had Before
It was said that hunger used to rule the shape of human life.
Generations ago, everything people did—work, travel, trade—came down to survival.
But now, in the age of Aten rice, that fear was gone.
In the cities, people began to rediscover time.
Time to learn, time to build, time to make things that no one had ever needed before.
Mana academies were full not just of children, but of adults who had never been able to study before, finally learning music, painting, cooking, magic.
A blacksmith in Rome, who once worked fourteen-hour days just to feed his family, now spent half his week forging decorative blades and sculptures—things he never would have had the freedom to create before.
"When you don't have to worry about what you'll eat tomorrow," he told a visitor, "your hands finally make what your heart wants."
In a quiet fishing village in Vietnam, with bellies full and no hunger to drive them, people came together every evening to play music by the docks. The children learned to weave simple illusions into their songs, filling the air with glowing fish made of light.
Even the smallest towns had clubs, contests, and gatherings that never existed before:
Friendly magic duels in community hallsPublic reading sessions in librariesClasses where ordinary people practiced new skills just because they could
For the first time in human history, life was not about surviving.
It was about living.
On a mild afternoon in early spring, a small group of friends met in a community center on the outskirts of Kyoto. None of them were magicians, not in the way people used to think. They were just five friends in their twenties who, two years ago, had been worrying about bills and part-time work.
Today, they were here for their favorite activity: a weekend craft and mana workshop.
The building itself had once been an unused school. Now it had been transformed into a place where anyone could sign up to learn anything. Cooking, pottery, dancing—anything that wasn't about survival.
Inside the hall, long tables were covered with bowls of clay, brushes, and thin threads of glowing mana-infused ink.
The instructor smiled at them as they found their usual seats.
"Welcome back! Are we continuing with pottery today, or shall we try painting with mana light?"
"Painting!" said Jun, the tallest of the group.
"We promised Yui we'd try painting this week."
They began to work, dipping brushes in glowing inks that faintly shimmered with their own mana. It was simple—no one was making masterpieces—but as they painted, the designs softly glowed, lines coming alive with a faint inner light.
Rika, who had never drawn anything in her life before Aten rice freed her from three jobs, laughed as she tried to copy a cherry blossom on her paper.
"This is terrible!" she said, holding it up.
"It's beautiful," Yui said with a grin. "It looks like it's dancing."
Around them, the community center was full of similar scenes:
Children painting streaks of color in the air that floated like ribbons.An old man shaping a pot with a little help from his granddaughter, their combined mana keeping the clay perfectly smooth.Teenagers humming as they practiced small illusions to add sparkles to their finished crafts.
After two hours, the five friends sat back and admired their glowing paintings. None of it was perfect. None of it needed to be.
"A few years ago," Jun said quietly, looking around the hall, "I never thought I'd have time to do this."
"Yeah," Rika agreed. "It used to be all work. No time for anything else. And now… we just get to enjoy things."
They didn't say it out loud, but they all knew why. When food and survival are no longer the only priority, people find pieces of themselves they'd almost forgotten.
As the workshop ended, the soft chime of the wall clock echoed through the hall. The five friends carefully packed their glowing paintings into simple enchanted envelopes so the ink wouldn't smudge.
They stepped out into the cool air of early evening.
Kyoto was different now.
The streets were alive, not with the desperate energy of survival, but with quiet vibrancy. Food stalls lined the roads, though most people weren't buying because they had to—they were buying because they wanted to taste something new.
Paper lanterns floated, held in place by tiny mana threads, casting warm light across cobblestone paths.
Everywhere they looked, there was a sense of ease.
"It's funny," Yui said as they walked. "Before, the city always felt heavy, like everyone was rushing somewhere because they had no choice. Now it's like… everyone can breathe."
They passed a small park where children ran barefoot on the grass, their little sparks of mana lighting up like fireflies as they played. A group of older men and women sat nearby, laughing as they played an old board game, no longer slowed by aching joints.
The group stopped at a street musician performing under a tree. With the help of a simple illusion spell, every note he played sent out faint shapes of petals that drifted on the breeze.
A small crowd had gathered, smiling, swaying with the music.
"Do you think this kind of thing would've been possible before?" Jun asked.
"Not like this," Rika said. "People didn't have time. They didn't have the energy."
As night fell, the city lit up.
Mana-powered lamps glowed like stars, bright but soft. The air smelled of grilled food and sweet pastries.
The friends wandered from street to street, stopping to watch a group of teens perform a short routine, their movements enhanced by body reinforcement spells. Another block away, someone sold ice cream that shimmered faintly in the dark from a simple alchemical chill.
They eventually sat on a low stone wall, cups of warm rice tea in their hands, watching the city.
"Sometimes I feel like we're in a dream," Yui said softly.
"Yeah," Jun said. "But it's real. We're living in a time where we can actually enjoy life."
For a moment, none of them said anything. They just looked out over the glowing streets, filled with laughter and voices, and realized how much the world had changed.
They stayed there a long time, sitting on the low wall, the cups warming their hands.
The night around them was alive with gentle motion—laughter drifting from a group of students nearby, the soft hum of magic lights overhead, the faint aroma of sweet cakes baking somewhere down the street.
It was peaceful, in a way none of them had ever known growing up.
"Strange," Rika said, breaking the quiet. "For the first time, I don't feel like I'm running out of time. Like the world finally slowed down enough for me to catch my breath."
Jun nodded.
"We used to work just to get through the next day. Now we actually get to live through it."
They finished their drinks and stood, walking together toward the nearest train station.
No rush. No pressure. Just five friends enjoying the simple fact that tomorrow would come without fear.
Above them, the city lights reflected against the clouds, a warm glow that seemed to hold back the night.
For once, there was no thought of hunger, no thought of danger—only the promise of another day, and the quiet joy of living in a world where they finally had the time to be human.
Chapter 603 – The Class That Will One Day Vanish
At Kisaragi High School, on the edge of Osaka, the second-year Class 2-B lived a life that was as ordinary as it was extraordinary in this new age.
Every morning, the sunlight poured through tall windows into a room filled with chatter. Thirty-six students. One room. A thousand little stories.
Mana had changed their world long before they were born. For them, awakened strength, longer lives, and the glow of Aten rice were not wonders—they were normal.
But even in this age, teenagers were still teenagers.
The classroom was alive with all the small things that made up their daily life:
The quiet boy by the window sketching with glowing ink instead of a pen.A group of girls comparing their weekend practice scores from the school's mana-control club.Two friends arm-wrestling at the back, body reinforcement making the desk creak while everyone laughed.
At lunch, the courtyard was crowded with groups of students, their lunches a mix of old-style bento and new mana-infused snacks.
"You know," said Haruka, brushing her black hair back, "people used to say high school was boring. I don't think that's true anymore."
"It's because the world's different now," replied Kenta, unwrapping his rice ball. "No one has to worry about stuff like hunger or sickness. We get to just… live."
Even so, Class 2-B was normal.
They had tests. They had gossip. They had crushes, clubs, and dreams about the future.
None of them could have imagined that one day, all of it—their room, their classmates, their teacher—would vanish from this world.
But that day was not today.
Today was just another afternoon, sunlight falling across open books, the sound of laughter echoing through the hallways of a world at peace.
The sunlight through the second-floor windows of Class 2-B painted long gold streaks across the desks. Afternoon lessons had ended, but no one was in a hurry to leave.
As usual, the room was full of its own small dramas.
Kurosawa Haruto sat near the back, half-turned in his chair as he flipped through a sketchbook. The glowing ink of his mana pen flowed across the page in easy, practiced movements.
Beside him, Fujimoto Saki leaned closer, trying to see what he was drawing.
"Is that supposed to be a dragon?" she asked.
"It's a phoenix," Haruto replied, not looking up.
"It looks like a lizard with wings."
Haruto sighed, turning the sketchbook around to show the full picture—a swirl of light-ink feathers.
"You can't tell me that looks like a lizard."
"Fine, fine," Saki said, grinning. "It's pretty. But still… it could be a dragon."
At the front of the room, Yamamoto Reina, the class representative, was stacking worksheets on the teacher's desk. She worked neatly, but her attention kept drifting to the group near the windows.
"If you two keep bickering like that," Reina said over her shoulder, "you'll be late for cleaning duty."
"Eh, it's Haruto's fault!" Saki said.
"You were the one teasing me," Haruto replied, calmly flipping to a new page.
Reina shook her head, but the corner of her mouth curved upward.
Near the middle rows, Tachibana Yui and Matsuda Kenta were arguing over test scores.
"If you spent less time napping, you'd have done better," Yui said, tapping his notebook with her pen.
"I got sixty-three this time! That's an improvement!" Kenta said proudly.
"Barely!"
Their voices rose, and a few classmates turned to watch, laughing softly.
In the very back row, Shiratori Aoi, a quiet girl with her hair tied back, was staring out the window instead of paying attention to anyone else. The glow of the setting sun reflected in her eyes.
Her desk mate, Okabe Riku, noticed.
"What are you looking at?"
"Nothing," Aoi said. "The clouds just look like they're floating closer than usual today."
Riku tilted his head.
"You say weird things sometimes."
Aoi just smiled faintly and didn't answer.
The door to Class 2-B slid open with a soft clack.
The conversations inside slowed as a tall man stepped in. His presence immediately drew every pair of eyes in the room.
Pale skin. Hair the color of midnight. Eyes with a faint crimson hue that seemed to hold centuries.
A vampire.
For a moment, no one said a word.
Kurosawa Haruto whispered under his breath:
"A vampire… teaching here?"
Fujimoto Saki blinked rapidly.
"Wait, I thought they were all rich! Why would one of them work at a school?"
Across the room, someone else muttered:
"Shouldn't he be running a company or something? They own half the banks, don't they?"
The man placed a stack of books on the teacher's desk, calm and composed, as if he hadn't noticed the murmurs.
"Good afternoon," he said in a low voice. "I am Kanzaki Shion. I will be assisting with history and world studies from today onward. Please treat me as you would any other teacher."
Even his voice carried an old-world politeness that felt out of place in a modern classroom.
At first, the class couldn't stop staring.
A vampire, in a regular school.
Teaching.
But over the next week, something interesting began to happen.
Every break between classes, students noticed the same thing: Kanzaki-sensei walking down the hall toward the nurse's office.
He was often seen leaning against the doorframe, speaking with Takagi-sensei, the school nurse. She laughed easily around him. He, for his part, seemed perfectly content to stay in that same spot for several minutes at a time.
By the second week, the entire Class 2-B had drawn the same conclusion.
Fujimoto Saki leaned over her desk with a grin.
"He's definitely flirting with the nurse."
Yamamoto Reina sighed.
"You can't just assume that—"
Matsuda Kenta cut in:
"Are you kidding? It's obvious. Every single break. Every day. No wonder he took a job here. Forget money—he came to chase love!"
Even Shiratori Aoi, normally quiet, hid a small smile behind her notebook.
Soon, it became the unspoken topic of the class.
Whenever Kanzaki-sensei entered the room, they couldn't help but exchange glances and hold back grins, certain that they knew the real reason a vampire was working as a teacher in a human school.
After Kanzaki-sensei left for the day, the energy in Class 2-B returned like a wave. The sunlight slanted through the windows, catching floating motes of dust as the students began to gather in groups, chatting.
The topic, as it had been every Friday for the last few months, was "What did you meet this week?"
Three years had passed since the supernatural world revealed itself. Two years since mana awakened in every human, strengthening their bodies, senses, and stamina.
The old rules—fear, secrecy, pretending these things did not exist—were gone.
In this new age, there were no ordinary people anymore. Everyone had mana. Everyone could see what had once been hidden.
Now, encounters with yokai, spirits, or supernatural creatures had become a normal part of daily life.
Tachibana Yui leaned over her desk, eyes wide with excitement.
"You guys are not going to believe what I saw on my way to school yesterday. A kappa! A real one! He was just sitting by the river, reading a comic book!"
Matsuda Kenta burst out laughing.
"You're kidding!"
"I swear! He even had a bottle of cucumber soda next to him."
Across the room, Kurosawa Haruto looked up from his sketchbook.
"That's nothing. I ran into a fox spirit last night. She was buying takoyaki. She looked normal until she smiled and I saw the tails swishing behind her, like she didn't even care who saw."
Fujimoto Saki grinned.
"Ohhh, was she pretty?"
Haruto blinked.
"...Yeah?"
"Figures," Saki teased. "Fox spirits are always pretty. Did you draw her?"
"Maybe," Haruto said, holding his sketchbook closer to his chest.
Near the windows, Okabe Riku raised a hand.
"I saw a tanuki trying to buy coffee at the convenience store. He had to stretch just to put the coins on the counter."
Shiratori Aoi, still gazing outside, added in her soft voice:
"At night I saw a will-o'-wisp floating over the park. It followed me halfway home before it vanished."
The classroom buzzed with stories.
Some were funny, some were a little eerie, but none of them were met with disbelief.
Three years ago, any of these encounters would have been impossible to talk about. Now, they were as common as rain.
Yamamoto Reina shook her head, smiling as she listened.
"It's amazing how fast things changed. It's hard to remember when none of us even believed in this stuff."
Outside, the city continued on. And in Class 2-B, yokai and humans lived side by side, their stories mixing like threads in a tapestry of the new world.
As the stories of kappa, fox spirits, and will-o'-wisps quieted down, the conversation in Class 2-B shifted, as it often did, to affinity.
The word alone was enough to make the room a little quieter.
Fujimoto Saki leaned back in her chair, spinning a pen between her fingers.
"You know," she said, "if I had an affinity, I wouldn't just be talking about seeing a kappa. I'd be out there throwing fireballs or something."
Matsuda Kenta laughed.
"Yeah, but nobody in this room has one. Zero. Out of all of us."
Tachibana Yui nodded, tapping her desk with the eraser end of her pencil.
"It's rare. Less than one in a thousand people. Everyone has mana now, sure, but affinity? That's something else."
Even though they had awakened mana like everyone else, Class 2-B knew that none of them were among the small number who had a true affinity—that natural alignment that allowed someone to wield one element effortlessly.
Kurosawa Haruto, still sketching lazily, spoke without looking up.
"I saw that news last week. The one about the former Spetsnaz guy from the Sentinel Guild."
Yamamoto Reina turned toward him.
"The one with the light affinity?"
Haruto nodded.
"Yeah. They say he can turn invisible just by bending the light around him. And he doesn't even have to think about it. He just… disappears."
Okabe Riku, sitting at the back, added:
"I read he can also shape the light into illusions. Like, he can make three copies of himself running in different directions, and you don't know which one is real until it's too late."
There was a pause. The room felt a little awed, even though they were just talking about something they had seen on the news.
"That's the difference," Kenta said quietly. "We've all trained, but without an affinity… there's a limit. Those guys… they're on a different level."
For a moment, they all imagined it:
What it would be like to have a natural talent like that. To have an element flow through them as easily as breathing.
And then, as quickly as the thought came, it was gone, replaced with the sounds of ordinary high school life.
The talk about affinities naturally led them back to the same topic that came up almost every week: the Sentinel Guild.
Matsuda Kenta leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands.
"You know what the Sentinel Guild reminds me of?"
Fujimoto Saki glanced at him.
"What?"
"An adventurer's guild. Like, straight out of an RPG."
That earned a round of laughter, but it wasn't a joke.
Tachibana Yui nodded eagerly.
"I've thought that too! They accept missions from all over the world, they team up depending on the job, and then they bring back results. Doesn't that sound exactly like a guild in a game?"
Kurosawa Haruto, still sketching, added:
"Even the way they rank their teams feels like quests. The Winter Hollow mission? That was like a top-tier dungeon raid. And they cleared it without anyone even noticing until after it was over."
Yamamoto Reina pushed up her glasses.
"Except in a game, you have mages throwing magic all over the place. The Sentinels don't fight like that. No big spells, no explosions. Just… silent and precise."
Okabe Riku grinned from the back.
"That's what makes them so cool. They're all normal guys—well, strong guys now—but they don't rely on big powers. Just skill. And beer. Lots of beer."
The class burst out laughing.
Fujimoto Saki tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I heard they even have a bar in their headquarters. Like, you can literally finish a mission and just go straight to get a drink."
Matsuda Kenta nodded.
"Exactly. That's why I keep saying they're like an RPG guild. Missions, teams, and a place to drink after a job. If you squint, it's perfect."
Some of the students started daydreaming out loud:
"Imagine if we could register there after graduation."
"You think they'd take a bunch of high schoolers with zero affinity?"
"Not a chance. But it's fun to think about."
It was an ordinary conversation in an ordinary classroom, but in their voices was a quiet excitement—a longing for adventure in a world where the walls between the mundane and the extraordinary had already disappeared.
As the laughter about the Sentinel Guild settled, the conversation took a turn.
Tachibana Yui leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.
"You know what else was a huge surprise after all these revelations? Vampires and werewolves. All those movies made it sound like they've been at war for centuries."
Matsuda Kenta snorted.
"Yeah, and it turns out they've never even fought. Not once."
Fujimoto Saki raised a brow.
"I saw an interview last week. A werewolf chief said they actually find those movies hilarious. He said, 'Why would we waste time fighting when there's so much forest and so many deer?'"
Kurosawa Haruto, still sketching idly, added:
"Vampires are busy with their city stuff. Banking, trading, their own companies. Werewolves don't even like cities. They just want forests and open spaces. It makes sense their paths almost never cross."
Okabe Riku leaned back in his chair, stretching.
"So basically, all those movies? Scam. Big drama just to sell tickets."
Shiratori Aoi spoke softly, still gazing out the window.
"It's strange, isn't it? How we believed those stories for so long. And now that we know the truth, it feels… normal. Like it was obvious the whole time."
Yamamoto Reina glanced up from her notes.
"Even Kanzaki-sensei. You can tell he's not someone who's ever had to fight a werewolf in his life. He just does his job, talks to the nurse, and goes home like everyone else."
That set off another round of giggles, the room quickly returning to that easy, ordinary rhythm.
In the new world, the myths were finally stripped away, leaving behind a truth far simpler and far more peaceful than anyone had imagined.
And for Class 2-B, it was just another topic in an endless string of after-class conversations.
Chapter 604 – The Summoning List
The next day, Class 2-B found themselves back in the same familiar classroom after the final bell, desks half-turned as small clusters of students continued yesterday's conversation.
This time, the topic drifted to demons and angels.
Tachibana Yui leaned forward, her elbows on the desk, voice low but full of excitement.
"Did you hear what was on the news last night? About the summoning rules?"
Matsuda Kenta nodded.
"Yeah. You can't just summon demons anymore. It has to be one from the official list. Can you believe that? A licensed demon summoning system."
Fujimoto Saki tilted her head.
"I heard the same thing. Ever since that treaty between Heaven and Hell, everything has to be by contract. They even said rogue summoning circles are illegal now. You can get arrested if you try to summon a demon that's not registered."
Kurosawa Haruto, without looking up from his sketchbook, added:
"It's kind of weird, isn't it? Angels and demons were supposed to be enemies forever. Now they just have… paperwork."
The conversation had started out quiet, but as more students noticed what they were talking about, the desks around them shifted closer.
"Wait, I heard about that too!" one boy said from a nearby row.
"Yeah, I saw it online," another added. "Apparently, the treaty means no more wars. If you want a demon, you summon one on the legal list, sign a contract, and that's it."
Okabe Riku leaned back, smirking.
"And do you know which demon gets summoned the most?"
Matsuda Kenta rolled his eyes.
"Oh, I know where this is going."
Riku grinned.
"Succubus. No contest. You know why."
A collective groan and laughter swept across the room.
"Seriously? Out of all the demons?" Saki said, shaking her head.
"People are hopeless," Yui added, laughing.
From another desk, a student said:
"I saw an interview with a succubus on TV last week. She said the work is exhausting. People summon them for the most ridiculous things. Some guy summoned one just to have someone cook breakfast with him every morning!"
"That's… actually kind of wholesome," Aoi said softly.
"That's not wholesome!" Kenta said, laughing so hard he almost fell out of his chair.
The room was full of voices now. What had started as a quiet chat had become a lively discussion, with more students joining in from all sides, adding stories they'd heard or things they'd seen since angels and demons had signed the treaty.
The topic of demons and the new summoning rules naturally led to talk about angels.
Tachibana Yui lowered her voice slightly, as though saying it softly made it more interesting.
"I saw another segment after that, about fallen angels. It said that a lot of them aren't even evil. Most of them just… couldn't take the pressure in Heaven anymore."
Fujimoto Saki nodded quickly.
"Yeah, they said the rules up there are so strict. Even a single stray thought, like getting frustrated, or thinking something selfish, can be enough to make them fall."
Matsuda Kenta blinked.
"So, like, one bad day and—poof—you're out?"
Saki shrugged.
"Kind of. Some of them even fall just because of an accident, like if they make a mistake while carrying out a duty. And then, that's it. They have to live down here."
Yamamoto Reina, sitting near the front, added in a calm tone:
"They don't complain, though. At least from what the reports say. Angels just do their work. Fallen angels just… accept it. A lot of them even seem happy living here now."
Kurosawa Haruto, who had been silent for most of the exchange, spoke up without looking away from his sketchbook.
"The lady who owns the bookstore near my house is a fallen angel."
That made a few heads turn toward him.
"Seriously?" Saki asked.
"Yeah," Haruto said, turning a page. "She's quiet, kind of serious, but she doesn't hide it. She said she fell a long time ago, not because she hated Heaven or anything, just because she made a mistake. Now she just wants a quiet life surrounded by books."
Okabe Riku grinned.
"So, what, if I go to your bookstore, I'll see wings?"
Haruto shook his head.
"She doesn't show them. But sometimes, when the sun comes through the window, you can see the faint outline in the light."
The room grew a little quieter as everyone imagined it—angels, once so far away, now just living among them, working like normal people.
Shiratori Aoi finally said softly:
"It's strange, isn't it? We grew up thinking angels and demons were some unreachable, terrifying beings. Now they're just… here. Like neighbors."
The chatter about angels and demons soon drifted into something else, something that had been in the news a few years ago but had never really disappeared from people's minds.
Okabe Riku was the one who brought it up, leaning back in his chair with that familiar grin.
"You know, all of this—summoning demons, fallen angels, supernatural treaties—it's nothing compared to that chaos a few years back."
Matsuda Kenta glanced at him.
"What chaos?"
Riku raised his eyebrows.
"Alex's hair."
Immediately, half the class turned to listen. Even now, just the mention of it still drew attention.
Fujimoto Saki laughed.
"Oh yeah, before Aten rice. Everyone was still normal back then. Just one strand of his hair could make you awakened. And if you were lucky, it gave you an affinity."
Tachibana Yui nodded quickly.
"I remember that! It was all over the news. People went crazy looking for it. And billionaires spent billions just to get a single strand."
Kurosawa Haruto, who had been quiet, finally looked up from his sketchbook.
"And now that everyone's seen how strong affinities are, it's even more valuable than before. Back then, it was just awakening. Now, with the whole world awakened because of Aten rice, affinity has become everything."
Yamamoto Reina tapped her pen against the desk, thoughtful.
"I guess that's why people still talk about it even now. It wasn't just about being strong. It was the chance to become someone with natural talent, like the ones in the Sentinel Guild."
Saki added with a grin:
"Yeah. A normal person turning into someone with an affinity overnight? That's like winning the ultimate lottery."
Okabe Riku laughed.
"You know, if Alex ever dropped a strand of hair near this school, half the city would be camping outside by morning."
"Maybe even Kanzaki-sensei would join the search," Kenta joked.
That earned a wave of laughter across the room.
Shiratori Aoi, her voice soft but clear, said:
"It's strange. He changed the world twice. Once with just his hair… and once with Aten rice. And all we can do is talk about him like he's a story."
The room grew quieter for a moment after that.
Even with all the changes in the world, Alex remained someone distant, unreachable—like a living legend that they could only see through the ripples he left behind.
Matsuda Kenta suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Speaking of affinities, did you see that special on Lady Sharon last week?"
That got an immediate reaction from half the class. Everyone knew the name.
Fujimoto Saki leaned forward, eyes wide.
"You mean Sharon Leighton? The one who bought a single strand of Alex's hair for billions?"
Kenta nodded.
"Yeah, that one. She's basically unstoppable now. Space affinity. She can teleport anywhere in the world whenever she wants."
Tachibana Yui tapped her chin.
"I read an article that said she's a natural talent for it. Like, there's affinity—and then there's someone who was just born for that element. They said her control over space is so good that she can teleport tiny objects with pinpoint accuracy."
Okabe Riku grinned.
"You mean like, throw a rock into your chest without moving a finger?"
Yui nodded.
"Exactly. They said she can teleport something directly into someone's heart. Just—bam—and the fight's over before it even starts."
A quiet murmur spread across the room at that. Even for students who had grown up with the supernatural becoming normal, the idea of that much precision was enough to make anyone shiver.
Kurosawa Haruto finally closed his sketchbook, looking thoughtful.
"So she can move anywhere she wants, and she can attack without even standing close to you."
Yamamoto Reina added calmly:
"And she owes it all to one strand of hair. The way the world works now, it feels like everything changed because of him."
Saki exhaled, shaking her head.
"If I had that kind of power, I'd probably never walk anywhere again. School? Teleport. Lunch? Teleport. No more buses, no more trains."
Kenta laughed.
"You'd probably teleport into the wrong bathroom just once and never hear the end of it."
The laughter filled the room again, but there was a shared awe behind it.
Lady Sharon had become one of the strongest humans alive—not because of centuries of training, but because of one moment, one choice, and one single strand of hair.
Tachibana Yui twirled her pencil between her fingers, still thinking about Sharon's abilities.
"You know, the news also said that teleportation magic isn't something that only people with space affinity can do. It's just… insanely hard."
Matsuda Kenta nodded quickly.
"Yeah, I heard the same thing. You can learn it, but without an affinity, it takes years. Decades even. And you need a natural feel for how space works."
Fujimoto Saki tilted her head thoughtfully.
"So it's like, space affinity is a cheat code. You skip all the hard steps because your body and mana just… know how to do it?"
Yamamoto Reina agreed.
"Exactly. People with affinity can just pour mana into something and it works. The rest of us have to grind through formulas, training, and still risk failing."
Okabe Riku smirked.
"So what you're saying is, if I started practicing today, I might be able to teleport by the time I retire?"
Saki grinned.
"If you have talent, maybe. If not, you'll just end up tired and sweaty for nothing."
Kurosawa Haruto, leaning back in his chair, added:
"That's why Sharon is such a big deal. There are magicians who have spent their entire lives studying space, and she's already ahead of them after two years just because her affinity lets her feel everything naturally."
The room hummed with quiet conversation. Even in a world where magic was normal, there was something about teleportation—the freedom to appear anywhere, to strike from nowhere—that felt almost unfair.
Shiratori Aoi spoke softly, but everyone nearby could hear.
"I wonder if we'll ever see someone like that up close. Not on a screen, but right here, in front of us."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, like a tiny glimpse into the kind of future they all dreamed of.
Chapter 605 – The Circle That Shouldn't Exist
There were twenty-two students in Class 2-B that morning.
The bell had not yet rung.
The sun was barely beginning to warm the windows, and the room was still full of casual voices—the sound of desks being moved, quiet laughter, and the low hum of mana-powered projectors preparing for the day.
Then the floor lit up.
It began as a faint glow beneath their feet, so soft that for a moment no one noticed.
Then the glow sharpened into lines, fine and precise, etching themselves across the wooden floor in shapes that no one in the class had ever seen before.
The marks connected with impossible speed, forming a giant, intricate magic circle that filled the entire room.
Fujimoto Saki was the first to shout:
"W-what is that?!"
Tachibana Yui jumped up from her desk.
"Wait! We're not supposed to use magic in class!"
But this wasn't the work of a student.
The pattern pulsed once—twice—each beat brighter, louder, until the air itself began to hum like a thousand wings.
Kurosawa Haruto stood from his chair, his eyes wide.
"This isn't school magic. This… this is something else!"
The desks, the walls, even the ceiling began to fade, as though the room itself was being peeled away.
Someone screamed.
Someone else tried to run to the door, but there was no door anymore—only the blazing light of the circle.
In the last moment, as everything was swallowed in white, twenty-two students reached for each other, their voices overlapping.
"What's happening?!"
"Hold on!"
"Someone stop this—!"
And then, the classroom was gone.
No school.
No Osaka.
Just light.
The twenty-two students of Class 2-B had vanished.
When the blinding light faded, the twenty-two students found themselves standing on cold marble.
The hum of the magic circle was gone, replaced by an ocean of voices—whispers, gasps, and murmurs coming from all around them.
They were no longer in a classroom.
Instead, they stood in the center of a vast hall, so large that the ceiling seemed to vanish into the distance. Gold pillars shaped like dragons rose around them, and sunlight poured through stained glass windows, painting the floor in bright colors.
Surrounding them in every direction were hundreds of figures.
Humans, yes—but not only humans.
There were tall, slender elves with emerald hair; broad-shouldered beastfolk with fur like wolves; dwarves with ornate armor; and even creatures with horns and wings.
At the highest part of the hall sat nobles and kings, their clothes heavy with jewels. Every pair of eyes was fixed on Class 2-B.
Tachibana Yui froze, staring.
"What… what is this place?"
Fujimoto Saki whispered under her breath, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"There's no way… did we just come from another world? Isekai…?"
If this had happened before Aten rice, before mana awakened in everyone, the room would have been filled with screaming and panic.
But these students had grown up in a world where yokai walked in the open, angels worked in bookstores, and vampires taught classes.
Matsuda Kenta rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
"If it were three years ago, I'd be freaking out right now. But… now? I just feel like this is… possible."
Kurosawa Haruto looked around, scanning the crowd of strange beings watching them.
"That doesn't make it normal. And we're definitely not in Osaka anymore."
One of the beastfolk whispered loudly from the crowd:
"They're here! The ones summoned from another world!"
Another voice followed, low and reverent:
"Heroes…"
The twenty-two students stood close together, unsure of what was about to happen, as the nobles and kings on the far side of the hall began to rise from their seats.
From the far end of the grand hall, the sound of footsteps echoed—steady, light, deliberate.
The nobles and kings seated on the elevated dais stepped aside as a young woman in a flowing silver and blue dress descended the steps. Her golden hair gleamed under the light, and a faint aura clung to her like moonlight on a still lake.
She stopped in front of the gathered students, folding her hands gracefully in front of her.
"Welcome, summoned ones," she said, her voice clear and elegant. "I am Princess Celestina Arveila of the Arveilan Kingdom. It is an honor to meet you."
Her words were formal, almost practiced. The gathered races and nobles around the room bowed their heads slightly as she finished.
For a moment, Class 2-B was silent.
There was no doubt she was beautiful. Her golden hair seemed to glow naturally, her skin flawless, her posture so perfect it felt like she had stepped out of a painting.
But for students who had grown up in a world that now contained elves, angels, vampires, and even goddesses, their thoughts wandered.
Fujimoto Saki leaned slightly toward Tachibana Yui, whispering just enough so the princess couldn't hear.
"She's beautiful, sure… but after seeing all those pictures of goddesses online, I think I've been spoiled."
Yui nodded ever so slightly, keeping her voice low.
"Yeah. If a goddess is a ten, she's probably a five. Maybe six."
Several others had similar thoughts, though they didn't dare say it out loud.
Her beauty was undeniable, but it didn't hold the same overwhelming, otherworldly presence as the divine beings from their world.
After the introduction and a few polite phrases, the princess turned and stepped back, giving the floor to the other nobles.
As soon as she was a few steps away, a cluster of whispers rose among the students.
Okabe Riku, keeping his voice as quiet as possible, said:
"Does anyone else feel like… I don't know. Something about her isn't trustworthy?"
Matsuda Kenta nodded slightly.
"It's not just you. It's like she's too… polished. Like every move she makes has been planned in advance."
Kurosawa Haruto, his eyes still fixed on the dais, muttered:
"Yeah. I don't know why, but I can feel it too."
Even though the princess had been nothing but polite, there was an instinctive unease in their group, like the sense of being measured and weighed from the moment they appeared.
When the murmurs of the students began to fade, the princess lifted her hand, and the great hall became silent once more.
Her voice carried easily, clear and measured.
"I know you have many questions," Princess Celestina said. "Allow me to explain why you have been called here from your world."
She took a step forward, her golden dress swaying like liquid sunlight.
"Our world is at war. For centuries, the Demon King has gathered the races of the demonkind beneath his banner: orcs, ogres, beastkin, vampires, and more. Their armies burn our fields, destroy our cities, and bring ruin wherever they march."
She paused, her eyes sweeping across the twenty-two bewildered students.
"We summoned you as heroes—chosen by the ritual to fight against the Demon King."
A wave of whispers broke out among the gathered nobles and among the students themselves. The words heroes and fight carried a heavy weight.
Matsuda Kenta blinked several times, leaning toward Okabe Riku.
"Wait… Demon King? Like, an actual Demon King? This is seriously turning into an RPG."
Fujimoto Saki whispered back, trying to keep her voice low.
"And did you hear that? Vampires? In our world, they're teachers and CEOs, not soldiers in some demon army…"
Princess Celestina continued, her tone solemn.
"The Demon King's army grows stronger with every passing season. Even the noble vampire clans of this world, once neutral, have bent their knee to him. We have no choice but to fight back. And so, we turned to the ancient summoning ritual, to call forth those from another world—those whose strength may be greater than ours."
The king himself, seated on a high throne behind her, stood and added in a deep, authoritative voice:
"You have been chosen. You will be trained. You will be given everything you need to defeat the Demon King. Without you, our world will be lost."
The twenty-two students stared up at him in stunned silence.
It wasn't just the size of the room or the strange races surrounding them.
It was the realization that they were being asked to fight in a war that wasn't theirs.
Tachibana Yui whispered, almost to herself:
"This… really is an isekai."