The morning sunlight bled softly through the classroom's windows, dust motes glittering lazily in its glow. Standing against the desks was Haruto, inside the chat group conversation hummed quietly in Haruto's mind.
Frieren: "Strange... spells that used to demand perfect focus now feel... natural. Like breathing, or moving my fingers."
Her tone carried the rarest edge of wonder. For the ancient elf, magic was no longer an endless dance of precision—it was instinct, seamless and effortless.
Stella: "Hmph. Figures. For me, it's useless. I've only got one ability to begin with."
Haruto chuckled under his breath as he leaned back against the classroom wall, arms crossed. Most of them couldn't benefit from the fusion feature. No skills to merge, or too simple to change. Saeko might, once she woke up, but for now she was still recovering.
For him though? He was ecstatic.
He'd always admired Frieren's composure—the quiet, timeless way she looked at the world—but she was as emotionally distant as the stars. To her, his entanglements with the girls weren't romance or passion... they were case studies in biology. Observations of human instinct.
Winning her over by trade alone had seemed impossible. But now, with Ability Fusion stripping skills down to their core, the gap between them was narrowing. She and Haruto were both level 30. Equal footing—for now.
But strength was always shifting. And he had no intention of staying equal for long.
He was still smiling faintly when a soft, level voice cut through his thoughts.
"Why are you grinning to yourself, Haruto?"
Kato Megumi stood by the window, hands loosely folded in front of her skirt. Her calm eyes studied him, unreadable.
Haruto tilted his head. "Hm? Just enjoying life a little. Don't tell me you're jealous, Megumi."
She didn't even flinch. Her voice was as placid as ever. "Could it be... you were thinking about last night with Saeko and Ayame?"
For the briefest second, Haruto thought he heard something beneath her tone—a flicker of jealousy buried under her neutrality. His grin widened.
So, even she can feel that... interesting.
"Not at all," he replied easily. "I was just testing out a new feature."
Megumi searched his face for a moment, then simply said, "Oh."
Her expression didn't change, but Haruto didn't miss the faint quickening of her breath.
To break the silence, she shifted the topic as smoothly as ever. "By the way, there's a transfer student in the second year today."
"A transfer, huh..." Haruto muttered. In truth, school itself meant little to him now. He'd already tangled with teachers, students, even the iron-willed Shizuka-sensei. Once he finished tying up loose ends here, he could leave with no regrets.
Megumi, however, went on in a teasing tone. "They say the new student looks like an angel. A cute underclassman. Aren't you curious?"
For the first time, Haruto's eyes lit up with sharp interest. He leaned forward suddenly, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders.
"Which class?"
Megumi blinked, her composure briefly cracking into a shadow of irritation.
"You really are hopeless," she sighed, her gaze dimming. "Just as much of a lecher as I thought."
Haruto laughed, releasing her. "No, no—you've got it wrong." His smile softened into something playful, but edged with honesty. "I'm not excited because she's cute. You're plenty enough to get me worked up, Megumi."
Her heartbeat faltered, though her face stayed unreadable. How could he say things so reckless, so shameless—and yet make them sound so sincere?
Before she could answer, his tone shifted, colder, more serious. "But you mentioned an angel... I'm thinking it might not be just a metaphor."
Megumi's eyes sharpened. "A real angel?"
Haruto gave a single nod. His memory flicked back to that holy presence he'd faced before. The idea fit too neatly.
"Second-year, Class One," Megumi answered.
"I'll go see for myself."
---
The corridor to the second-year wing was buzzing like a hive. Students clustered outside one particular classroom, chattering and craning their necks for a glimpse. Their excitement swirled in the air like static.
Haruto strolled down the hallway, his easy gait parting the crowd without effort. Whispers followed in his wake.
"Isn't that Amakawa-senpai?"
"Why is he here?"
"Wait, don't tell me—he knows them too?"
He ignored the murmurs, stopping just short of the window. His lips curved as he saw them.
Two dazzling figures, standing at the center of the room.
Gabriel White Tenma. Raphiel Shiraha Ainsworth.
Their beauty radiated like sunlight through stained glass—smiles gentle, voices melodic, their very presence cloaked in holy radiance. Even Haruto, hardened by blood and violence, felt the edge of their light pressing against his senses. To normal students, it was blinding.
The angels noticed him. Both sets of shining eyes turned toward him in unison.
The hallway hushed, the chatter cut off.
Haruto sighed lightly, raising his voice just enough. "Gabriel. Raphiel. Let's talk."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. They knew each other?
And then—the impossible happened. Both angels smiled warmly and nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The hallway erupted into chaos. Students whispered and gossiped as Haruto led the two angelic transfer students away. By the time they turned the corner, the rumors were already spreading like wildfire, racing even toward the third-years.
---
In the student council room, a girl with sleek black hair and sharp crimson eyes snapped her book shut at the sound of the noise outside. Rising gracefully, she stepped into the hall.
Her voice was clear, cool as frost.
"No shouting in the corridors. Disperse."
The crowd scattered instantly, too cowed to resist. None dared defy her authority.
She stood in the empty hall for a moment, eyes narrowed faintly. The title she bore was not for show.
The "Ice Princess" of the academy had taken notice.