The next morning, a strange stillness clung to Class D—a silence too thoughtful to be laziness, too wary to be focus.
The usual chaos of scraping chairs and whispered jabs was muted, as if the room itself held its breath.
Miss Silvia stood at the front, her posture unusually upright, hands folded neatly over a stack of parchment.
Her white jacket was crisply pressed, her auburn hair pinned tightly, and her glasses caught the morning light like polished blades.
She exuded a rare determination to reclaim control, if only for today.
Her pencil skirt hugged her voluptuous curves, swaying slightly as she turned to face the class, oblivious to the faint scorch mark from a prior spell still darkening its hem.
Lor slouched in the back, chin propped on his palm, hazel eyes flicking across the room—not to the blackboard, but to the reactions.
Nellie, two rows ahead, scribbled notes with quiet focus, her twin braids swinging softly, her thick thighs shifting under her tight skirt.
Eva sat to her left, her green eyes tense, her blue bow steady as her hand curled into a fist beneath her desk.
Olivia leaned back, arms crossed under her busty chest, her tight blouse straining as she watched Silvia like she expected a fumble any second.
Viora and Myra, perched like hawks at their desk, whispered with smug grins.
Their green and brown hair glinted in the light, their curvy figures tense but alert, their skepticism of Lor’s Guiding Light now tinged with a flicker of acknowledgment.
Silvia cleared her throat with practiced firmness, her glasses slipping slightly.
"An announcement from the Academy’s central board," she said, lifting a parchment like it was a sacred decree.
The room tensed.
Quills paused mid-scribble.
Even the pigtail blonde in the front stopped doodling hearts on her notebook.
"All classes—A through D—will participate in a formal, interclass spell precision assessment," Silvia continued, her voice steady but her fingers trembling faintly.
"A public demonstration, one week from today."
The silence cracked.
A groan erupted from the pigtail girl, her skirt swishing as she slumped.
The redhead muttered a frustrated curse, her curls bouncing. Kiara, usually aloof, leaned back, her sharp eyes narrowing under her dark bangs.
"You’re joking," someone whispered near the front, her voice barely audible over the rustle of uniforms.
Silvia adjusted her glasses, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"This evaluation will affect each class’s reputation and standings in the Academy. It’s an opportunity to show measurable progress."
Her white jacket strained as she gestured, oblivious to the faint breeze Lor conjured, nudging her skirt up to reveal a glimpse of lacy black panties before she smoothed it down, flustered.
Eva’s fist tightened, her knuckles white, her dark blue hair shimmering with restrained energy.
Olivia tilted her head, her wavy bob swaying, her hazel eyes calculating.
Myra leaned closer to Viora, whispering, "This is a trap," her brown eyes glinting with suspicion.
Viora snorted, her green hair swaying, her skirt riding up to flash her red lace panties as she shifted, wincing slightly.
"Public humiliation, more like," she muttered.
Lor didn’t react, his face a mask of boredom, but his mind churned.
A public assessment was a double-edged sword—exposure for Class D’s improvement could draw unwanted attention to his Guiding Light, but it was also a stage to solidify his influence.
His hazel eyes lingered on Nellie, who sat straighter, her gray eyes glowing with quiet determination, her usual timidity replaced by a flush of resolve.
Her thick thighs pressed together under her skirt, her big ass shifting slightly, no longer trembling with fear.
That afternoon, as classes ended, Eva and Olivia summoned the inner circle to the back field—a narrow stretch of grass ringed by battered training dummies and half-buried ward stones, far from the dorms and close to the wilderness’s edge.
The air smelled of damp earth and faint mana residue, a secluded haven for Class D’s budding conspirators.
Nellie arrived first, her satchel slung over her shoulder, a thermos of tea clutched in her small hands.
Her school uniform clung to her petite frame, her skirt accentuating her curvy lower half, her braids bobbing as she offered Lor a sheepish smile, her cheeks pink behind her slipping glasses.
"I... brought tea, meow," she whispered, the habit slipping out, her gray eyes darting to the ground.
Lor trailed behind, his steps sluggish, his black hair falling over his hazel eyes, letting the others take the lead.
Eva paced, her long legs tense, hands on her hips, her knit top straining over her full chest, her short skirt swishing to reveal flashes of lace-trimmed thigh-highs.
Her dark blue hair, streaked with pink, shimmered in the sun, her blue bow steady.
"I want to take this seriously," she said, her voice low but fierce. "We can’t change the whole class overnight, but we can make an impact. If we do well, people will notice."
Olivia nodded, arms crossed under her busty chest, her tight tunic blouse clinging to every curve, her charcoal pants hugging her hips like a second skin.
"If we match Class C’s average—or beat their worst—we’ll shake their smug little world," she said, her hazel eyes glinting with ambition.
"And show our class we’re not hopeless," Eva added, her green eyes blazing. "This isn’t a graveyard. With effort, it’s possible."
Lor raised a brow, his grin lazy but sharp.
"So, more rituals then? Should I get the light ready?." His voice was teasing, his hazel eyes flicking over Eva’s curves, savoring the way her skirt flared.
Eva’s lips twitched, a half-smirk breaking through her intensity.
"We’ll manage," she said, but her blush betrayed a flicker of memory from their facesitting ritual.
Olivia’s cheeks pinked, her wavy bob swaying as she avoided Lor’s gaze, her blouse shifting to reveal a glimpse of cleavage.
Viora and Myra appeared, hips bumping as they muttered to each other, their smirks masking the faint winces from their still-sore butts.
Their skirts clung tightly, Viora’s red lace panties peeking out as she walked, Myra’s black lace flashing with each step.
"You told them?" Olivia asked, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing at Lor.
He gave a mock-serious nod, his grin widening. "They’ve... witnessed the Light."