Heroist
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I can already picture Duncan and Ixsora cutting the undead into pieces and disposing of them in acid-filled barrels.
The disappearance of yet another random whose name Nira didn't even bother to remember consumed about the same amount of her attention as lectures on tolerance toward our lesser races, but alas, that's not where it ended. First, they force-fed them, for four grueling uninterrupted hours, the ramblings of a deranged cleric preaching about love for demons, beggars, good people, and other drivel, most of which, fortunately, she tuned out while adjusting her appearance in the mirror and sketching summer outfit designs in her notebook. Then they went so far as to arrange public kisses between "accidentally" chosen candidates, shamelessly insinuating the obvious situation they were in. Against this backdrop, even the latest rigged Competitive, specifically arranged to humiliate the locals before two-meter-tall boars fallen from their wild, dump-like homelands, didn't look quite so bad.
Returning from yet another pair of madness-induced classes, Nira sadly felt that even her usual interest in visiting shops had somehow dimmed. And suppose she and her classmates could get back at those brainless jocks on the next exams, — but something told her that the instructors would stretch every point to give Alidum a high grade for his blank sheet of paper, citing some "hidden intellectual trait" they supposedly found deep within his stone-cold skull, while the honest, hardworking Sakura-sea dweller, who had written down ten pages of notes in a sweat, would only earn another lackluster seventy points from them.
Once inside her room, Nira casually tossed her bag behind the writing desk and flopped onto the bed, clasping her hands behind her head. Bell, seemingly, had not yet returned from class, as the now-empty room was bathed in the bright twilight of the setting sun. Her gaze was fixed on a painting of Caeris, rendered in some remote, long-forgotten era. And yet, only a couple of months had passed! For what purpose, and indeed why, had she returned to these walls? Why was she letting the matron, drenched in her madness about the friendship of peoples, wash her brain? Because the academy promised some unique knowledge and skills? Oh, no, those weren't her thoughts; they were just inventions pitched by Cassia's father to keep her friend by his side. Why keep her friend? Well, she needed supporters anyway, people she could build beneficial connections with, plus they still owed her a favor for a birthday gift. And why bother spending time and effort on all that? Well, to be popular, to be successful, to be surrounded by friends. But what was the point? The point kept slipping away, lost in the deepening summer twilight.
The half-open window, like a furnace, poured out stifling heat mixed with the foul stench of cigars. I wonder where it came from? Cheerful voices on the street grew faint and dissolved into the night's silence. Like a character from a cherished childhood fairy tale, she could surround herself with money, supporters, family, and friends, but all of it felt pale and hollow, much like a daydream. In this world, she had only one true ally, someone she could trust, someone she could love fearlessly and with all her heart, who could and would give as much in return. Herself.
Shattering the darkness that had paralyzed her, Nira confidently rose from the bed and glanced at the wall clock. Only five minutes had passed, at most. Damned lectures, and she could barely keep her sanity. Approaching her favorite mirror, she scrutinized her reflection curiously. I wonder, if some wicked witch poured acid on her face, would it ruin her image too much? Probably just a little, but that still doesn't make her a demon. In the end, she could just wear a mask like that weird guy. Alright, pull yourself together, Niarianna, enough wasting time, Nira, get moving. Ahead lies another Competitive, and even if a new defeat awaits you, you still need to try looking better, more beautiful, sweeter, and cheerlier than everyone else. This academy is already barely illuminated by a handful of stars, and the fading of each one will undoubtedly have a terrible impact on the overall atmosphere.
The disappearance of yet another random whose name Nira didn't even bother to remember consumed about the same amount of her attention as lectures on tolerance toward our lesser races, but alas, that's not where it ended. First, they force-fed them, for four grueling uninterrupted hours, the ramblings of a deranged cleric preaching about love for demons, beggars, good people, and other drivel, most of which, fortunately, she tuned out while adjusting her appearance in the mirror and sketching summer outfit designs in her notebook. Then they went so far as to arrange public kisses between "accidentally" chosen candidates, shamelessly insinuating the obvious situation they were in. Against this backdrop, even the latest rigged Competitive, specifically arranged to humiliate the locals before two-meter-tall boars fallen from their wild, dump-like homelands, didn't look quite so bad.
Returning from yet another pair of madness-induced classes, Nira sadly felt that even her usual interest in visiting shops had somehow dimmed. And suppose she and her classmates could get back at those brainless jocks on the next exams, — but something told her that the instructors would stretch every point to give Alidum a high grade for his blank sheet of paper, citing some "hidden intellectual trait" they supposedly found deep within his stone-cold skull, while the honest, hardworking Sakura-sea dweller, who had written down ten pages of notes in a sweat, would only earn another lackluster seventy points from them.
Once inside her room, Nira casually tossed her bag behind the writing desk and flopped onto the bed, clasping her hands behind her head. Bell, seemingly, had not yet returned from class, as the now-empty room was bathed in the bright twilight of the setting sun. Her gaze was fixed on a painting of Caeris, rendered in some remote, long-forgotten era. And yet, only a couple of months had passed! For what purpose, and indeed why, had she returned to these walls? Why was she letting the matron, drenched in her madness about the friendship of peoples, wash her brain? Because the academy promised some unique knowledge and skills? Oh, no, those weren't her thoughts; they were just inventions pitched by Cassia's father to keep her friend by his side. Why keep her friend? Well, she needed supporters anyway, people she could build beneficial connections with, plus they still owed her a favor for a birthday gift. And why bother spending time and effort on all that? Well, to be popular, to be successful, to be surrounded by friends. But what was the point? The point kept slipping away, lost in the deepening summer twilight.
The half-open window, like a furnace, poured out stifling heat mixed with the foul stench of cigars. I wonder where it came from? Cheerful voices on the street grew faint and dissolved into the night's silence. Like a character from a cherished childhood fairy tale, she could surround herself with money, supporters, family, and friends, but all of it felt pale and hollow, much like a daydream. In this world, she had only one true ally, someone she could trust, someone she could love fearlessly and with all her heart, who could and would give as much in return. Herself.
Shattering the darkness that had paralyzed her, Nira confidently rose from the bed and glanced at the wall clock. Only five minutes had passed, at most. Damned lectures, and she could barely keep her sanity. Approaching her favorite mirror, she scrutinized her reflection curiously. I wonder, if some wicked witch poured acid on her face, would it ruin her image too much? Probably just a little, but that still doesn't make her a demon. In the end, she could just wear a mask like that weird guy. Alright, pull yourself together, Niarianna, enough wasting time, Nira, get moving. Ahead lies another Competitive, and even if a new defeat awaits you, you still need to try looking better, more beautiful, sweeter, and cheerlier than everyone else. This academy is already barely illuminated by a handful of stars, and the fading of each one will undoubtedly have a terrible impact on the overall atmosphere.
Whatever