Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 35: Grand Arcane ArenA

The Grand Arcane Arena loomed like a colossus of ancient stone and shimmering enchantments, its tiered seating curving in a full circle around a central field where enchanted disc targets floated serenely above runed stone.

The air buzzed with mana, thick and metallic, like the tense hush before a thunderclap.

Class D arrived last, ushered to a rickety wooden platform creaking under their weight, tucked in the arena’s farthest shadowed corner.

No gilded railings like Class A’s, no enchanted cushions like Class B’s, no polished benches like Class C’s—just splinters, peeling paint, and the weight of their reputation as the academy’s failures.

They took their places in silence, the creak of the platform echoing their unease.

The inner circle—Eva, Olivia, Nellie, Viora, Myra—gathered tightly at the front, their bodies slick with a sheen of anxious sweat and anticipation.

Eva’s skirt clung to her hips, riding up with each shift, the edge of her blue lace panties flashing briefly.

Olivia’s tight pants hugged her curves, white lace peeking as she bent slightly, her blouse straining over her busty chest.

Nellie’s blouse stretched taut across her ample chest, sweat tracing delicate lines along her collarbones, her thick thighs shifting with purpose under her skirt.

Viora and Myra sat with legs slightly apart, their short skirts revealing glimpses of red and black lace, their thighs still tender from the previous day’s squat ritual, wincing faintly with each movement.

Eva broke the silence, her green eyes burning with fierce determination.

"We’re not their punching bag. Not today. We hit those targets clean, and we make them choke on their smug grins." Her dark blue hair, tied in a tight braid, shimmered as she leaned forward, her skirt shifting higher.

Viora rolled a chalk bead between her fingers, her green hair catching the light.

"Tch. They’ll still look down on us," she muttered, her red lace panties peeking, her hazel eyes glinting with defiance.

"They can look wherever they want," Myra added, her black lace flashing as she crossed her legs, her brown eyes sharp.

"I just want every damn hit to land. One shot per ring. That’ll wipe their smirks." Her brown hair stuck to her sweaty neck, her playful smirk masking her resolve.

Olivia leaned closer to Eva, her voice a hushed whisper, her wavy bob swaying.

"I heard Lor mention about the Light helping with far targets. Maybe it wasn’t just talk." Her hips shifted, white lace briefly visible as her blouse stretched, her hazel eyes calculating.

Eva’s brow furrowed, her green eyes narrowing. "You think he’s hiding more?"

"Of course. He’s always hiding more. That is how the guiding light works, but apparently it gets angry when you ask too many or impossible guidance," Olivia replied, her tone soft but pointed.

Nellie said nothing, clutching her focus bead tightly, her grip steady.

Her gray eyes flicked across their faces, clear and resolute.

"I’ll hit mine. No matter what. I had practiced for hours at home.," she said, her voice soft but unwavering, her thick thighs pressing together under her skirt.

Lor slouched a few rows back, tossing a mana bead lazily into the air, its spin catching the light before dropping into his palm.

His black hair fell over his hazel eyes, looking completely uninterested at what was happening in front of him.

"Maybe the Light could make those discs look like sitting ducks for a group," he murmured, his voice nearly lost in the arena’s hum, his grin subtle but deliberate.

"Just saying."

Viora snorted, her red lace peeking as she shifted, wincing slightly. "You’re dreaming, loser."

Myra chuckled, her black lace flashing as she leaned forward.

"We know your pervy light just offers guidance and nothing more." But she nudged Eva, her brown eyes glinting. "Still... I think it is worth asking?"

Eva didn’t respond, but her silence wasn’t dismissal.

Her fingers tightened around her wand, her blue lace peeking as her skirt shifted, her green eyes flickering with consideration.

The arena began to fill.

Class C claimed their polished benches with loud chatter and open mockery.

Joren, his slicked-back hair gleaming, cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hey, mana-less trash! Does any of you even plan on hitting the target or is it the ground again?" His voice carried, drawing laughs from his classmates.

Lila, another Class C student, her ponytail tight and high, cackled shrilly.

"Don’t waste your spells—Class D will miss every damn shot anyway!" Her skirt swished, revealing a flash of green lace as she turned to her peers.

From a higher platform, Class B entered in disciplined rows.

Kael, towering with sculpted arrogance, glanced at Class C and snorted.

"You mock Class D like you’re not one tier from scrubbing our boots. Know your place, midlings." His voice was cold, his uniform pristine.

Lila flushed but held her tongue, her ponytail twitching as she glared at Kael.

Then, silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

Class A arrived, their gilded platform shimmering with gold filigree, enchanted to glow with subtle elegance.

At its center, Seraphina sat like a queen, her silver hair cascading, her gold-trimmed uniform pristine.

She didn’t speak, didn’t jeer—her silence was enough, her presence commanding the crowd to hush.

Miss Silvia appeared at the edge of Class D’s platform, clutching her clipboard like a lifeline, her white jacket damp under the arms, her blouse clinging to her bust.

Her voice strained for strength as she announced warmups, but the taunts from other classes drowned her out.

Totally apathetic, a stray breeze—Lor’s subtle magic—lifted her skirt, flashing her lacy black panties again.

She squeaked, smoothing it down, her glasses fogging as her cheeks burned.

Lor chuckled inside and did the same to other nearby students whoever caught his eye.

Eva glared toward the stands, slapping her skirt down as another breeze nudged it, her blue lace flashing.

"They’re watching us," she muttered, her green eyes fierce.

Lor had enough of peeking inside skirts, anymore and he would have no choice but to go visit the showers.

His hazel eyes now fixed on the floating targets, now humming and shifting in the distance.

Tomorrow, they would move.

Today, the arena breathed.

The source of this c𝓸ntent is fr(e)𝒆novelkiss