I stepped into the classroom quietly with Lufei at my side and Maxius trailing just behind, wings tucked in tight. The room was already half full—students chatting in clusters, some tossing beast-shaped erasers across their desks. A few glanced our way but didn't pay us much attention.
Good. I liked it that way.
I moved to the third row near the window—close enough to observe, far enough to retreat—and took out my notebook and a few textbooks from the Federation-issued satchel. Most of the information in these books would probably be outdated in two years, but that didn't matter. Right now, I needed a baseline. Names. Systems. History. Power structures.
Knowledge was ammunition. And I didn't plan on entering battle unarmed.
Lufei quietly nestled beside my chair, curling her leafy legs under her. Maxius perched on the top of my chair back, eyes sharp as ever. The two of them attracted a few glances—mostly curious ones—but nothing hostile.
I flipped open my first textbook: Foundations of Federation History. From what little I knew, this world had undergone a massive war a few decades ago—one that changed everything about how beast contracts, awakening systems, and rune professions evolved. But details were scarce. This was the first time I'd be studying it with actual source material.
As I underlined the opening lines about "The Black Tide" and "The First Great Rift," my thoughts turned inward.
This isn't Earth anymore. I reminded myself for the hundredth time. Animals here aren't pets. They're partners, soldiers, family, weapons, scholars—even political assets.
Back on Earth, I'd been a veterinarian. I believed animals deserved to live freely and naturally.
Here? They were born with purpose, sometimes stronger and smarter than the humans that raised them. Companionship was just one of many functions. Evolution, combat, support, scouting, healing—they were soldiers in a world where survival was currency.
I looked at Lufei and Maxius, then at the faint shape of Mystic hovering outside the school barrier.
"I'll tolerate their adolescence," I muttered under my breath. "But this little troupe of ours? Everyone contributes."
No more freeloading. No one carries the weight alone.
—
The classroom door slid open with a soft chime.
A tall man walked in, wearing a Federation-standard jacket trimmed with dull bronze—a mid-tier Beast Arts instructor. He looked sleepy but sharp, with a thin scar trailing down from his ear to his jawline.
"Alright, settle down," he said, voice carrying through the murmurs. "We're starting."
The students scurried to their seats. I closed my notebook and straightened up.
The teacher's gaze swept the room, then paused when it landed on me.
"Looks like we've got a new student," he said. "Come up to the front and introduce yourself. Name, awakening info, beast contract, and profession paths."
I stood up without hesitation, my satchel still slung over one shoulder. Lufei and Maxius stayed behind for now.
But just as I reached the front of the room—
"Oh, please," a sneering voice rang out.
I turned slightly.
It was the same boy from earlier—the one who'd called me "mortal trash." He stood a few rows back, arms crossed, flanked by two slightly older students.
"She's not new," he laughed, loudly enough for the others to hear. "She was in the awakening reject class—y'know, where they toss all the low-grade mortals who can't even get a proper profession."
His friends snickered. A ripple of laughter followed.
"She probably bonded with a squirrel or something and awakened as a garbage handler. Or—what's the term? Oh yeah. Crappy profession nobody cares about."
The classroom roared in agreement. A few students slapped desks. Someone mimicked gagging.
I stood still. Calm. Irritated, but calm.
I looked to the teacher.
He scratched his jaw and said nothing.
I thought bitterly. Typical.
My fingers twitched.
Then I whistled—sharp and clean, two quick notes.
In a flash, Lufei leapt from her spot and landed gracefully at my side. Her eyes glowed green, antlers flickering with spirit light as she assumed a protective stance.
A second whistle.
Maxius flared his wings and streaked forward in a single breath, landing smoothly on my left shoulder. His piercing eyes scanned the room like a predator assessing its prey.
Silence. The class went dead quiet.
No one laughed now.
I stood tall, arms folded, beasts flanking me like twin sentinels.
"My name is Fan Yumei," I said clearly. "I'm seven years old. I awakened last week and passed full registration at the Federation Center this morning."
I reached into my inner pocket and pulled out the thin silver ring—my Federation-issued license, still warm from earlier processing.
"Awakening type: soul functions and Elemental Caller. Professions: Beastmaster, Beast Healer, and Rune Master—awakened last week. Six-star license holder."
Gasps. Audible ones. Even the teacher leaned forward, finally alert.
Someone muttered, "Triple profession? Six stars? That's…"
Another voice cut in. "She's lying."
"She has to be she can't be a beast healer."
"Yeah, fake ring. Those can be bought in the bazaar for five coins."
I turned the ring slightly and let the embedded hologram flicker to life—emitting my ID number, official Federation seal, registration timestamp, and class clearance.
"Anyone else want to try verifying it?" I asked evenly.
The ring's glow cast light on their stunned expressions.
The boy who'd heckled me earlier was pale now, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish. His lackeys looked like they wanted to vanish under their desks.
"Thought so."
I walked back to my seat calmly, Lufei and Maxius following like disciplined guards.
The teacher finally cleared his throat.
"…Ahem. Well. Looks like we'll be updating the class roster today. Thank you, Fan Yumei."
I didn't respond. I just reopened my textbook and continued reading like nothing happened.
But inside?
I smiled.
Let them watch. Let them doubt. I'll prove it all. Day by day. Battle by battle.
And when I'm done—no one will ever mistake me for mortal trash again.
As I turned the page, a strange warmth settled over my chest—quiet, soft. Like something long held had finally let go.
A whisper echoed faintly through my soul:
"Thank you."
I paused, hand still on the book.
It was her—the girl who once lived in this body, the one whose life had been cut short before she ever had the chance to rise.
I closed my eyes and felt her presence gently fade, like a sigh caught on the wind. Her soul had clung to this vessel, burdened by fear and grief. But now… she was free.
I whispered back into the quiet space of my heart, I hope you have a wonderful life in your next one.
Then I opened my eyes, the light sharper, the air clearer, the world finally… mine.