The days following the Ranking Exam were supposed to be about settling into the school routine, but for Noir Sullivan, true normalcy was now a faded memory. Despite his official Aleph (1) status, his new appearance made keeping a low profile practically impossible.
His sleek, commanding new form—the glacial white hair, the piercing amber-gold eyes, and the sheer visual magnitude of his eight black wings (which he was learning to compress and hide beneath his jacket with intense effort)—made him an inescapable focal point. While his power was undeniably high, it was still chaotic and required the Ring of Solomon to regulate it, meaning his actual, controlled output was still well within the realm of a highly talented student, not an unstoppable sovereign.
Everywhere he went, whispers followed. The rumors of his impossible transformation, his victory in the race using the immense wings, and his absurdly low rank created a gravitational pull of attention that left him constantly exposed.
The greatest source of this exposure came from the two beings determined to see him rise: Lord Sullivan, the Chairman, and Opera, his perpetually composed aide.
Sullivan's Shenanigans: Sullivan treated Noir's metamorphosis not as a disruption, but as a glorious family achievement. He often burst into Noir's room, sobbing tears of joy while clutching demonic fashion magazines, demanding that Noir model new "regal ensembles" for the "next phase of his inevitable rise." He occasionally showed up at the school gates, loudly declaring to passing students, "Behold! My grandson, the Rank Aleph wonder!"
Opera's Overkill: Opera, meanwhile, intensified their protection and training. Noir was forced to attend daily, rigorous etiquette lessons focused solely on "maintaining the bearing befitting one with eight wings and the Ring of Solomon." Opera often escorted Noir through the halls with a silent, intense stare that deterred anyone from approaching—but also ensured everyone was staring at them.
Noir found the constant surveillance and expectation exhausting. He sighed, leaning against the wall outside the Misfit Classroom, trying to tune out the distant echoes of his name being screamed in admiration.
His friends, Asmodeus Alice and Valac Clara, were not helping his low-profile strategy, though their devotion was genuine.
Alice treated every interaction as a sacred duty, constantly declaring his loyalty and offering services. He would walk beside Noir, bowing slightly to passersby as if ushering royalty, ensuring everyone knew Noir's rank was merely a tactical deception.
Clara's attention was just as taxing. She was fascinated by his new appearance and constantly tried to involve his massive wings in games, treating the powerful appendages like oversized, feathery toys.
Noir found himself growing visibly frustrated, running his hand over his face. The constant pressure of pretending to be a demonic demigod while merely trying to pass high school was weighing on him.
Alice and Clara noticed his rare display of upset. They immediately rushed to comfort him, sensing his distress.
Alice, with his usual fierce devotion, declared, "Noir-sama, do not allow these minor stresses to affect your noble spirit! We are here for you! We shall purge any lingering fatigue with our fierce, unwavering loyalty!"
Clara, completely focused on cheering him up, grabbed his hands and bounced. "Yeah! Let's go to class! Yay! Class! We can sing a fun song about seeds!"
They cheerfully dragged him away, completely misunderstanding the source of his fatigue but successfully snapping him out of his inner funk. He realized he was surrounded by chaos, but it was their chaos, and he wouldn't trade it. He managed a small, wry smile. "Right. Class. Let's go."
Their first-day class was held not in a normal classroom, but high up in the Greenhouse Tower, a massive, shimmering spire dedicated to the study of exotic demonic flora.
The instructor was Stolas Suzy, the head of Demonic Biology—a kind-looking, elderly demon with spectacles perched on the end of her beak-like nose. She greeted the Misfit Class with a gentle, if slightly bewildered, smile.
The large, glass-domed room was filled with warm, humid air and the scent of earth and exotic pollen. Low tables were set up, each containing a small terracotta pot filled with rich, dark soil and a single, unsprouted seed.
"Welcome, students, to Demonic Biology! Today, we will begin with a simple exercise in elemental manipulation and control," Suzy-sensei began. "You see these seedlings? They are very special—they will only blossom when subjected to a direct, gentle channeling of personal mana."
She demonstrated, holding her hands over a seed and softly speaking a magical phrase. "The spell is called 'Quan Quan'. You must hold your hands above the seed and whisper the spell, focusing your mana flow. Too much, and you will scorch it; too little, and it won't sprout."
Noir felt a spike of immediate anxiety. He didn't know the spell. More importantly, his stabilized power core, though vast, was still managed by the mana-eating ring. Attempting to "gently channel" anything felt like trying to use a fire hose to water a bonsai tree; the result would likely be extreme.
He resolved to simply watch the others and mimic their movements, hoping his Rank Aleph status would excuse his lack of success.
He placed his hands over the pot, adopting the correct stance. He whispered the spell to himself: "Quan Quan."
As he stood there, pretending to channel nonexistent mana, his sharp eyes scanned the massive, curved glass dome above them. His new, enhanced senses were picking up something strange.
High above, hidden among the complex pipes, vents, and support structures of the colossal Greenhouse Tower, figures were watching them. They were camouflaged and still, but Noir could clearly discern the outlines of several observers peering down at the Misfit Class, their attention focused primarily on him.
Noir froze, his fake concentration instantly broken by a new wave of paranoia. The attention isn't just accidental now. We're being watched by organized forces.
He suppressed a shudder. This was a school, not a military exercise. Who was watching them, and why were they so interested in the lowest-ranked student?