Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 40: Inter Class Spell comp

The Grand Arcane Arena pulsed with energy, its mana-charged air crackling as the scoreboard flickered to life.

Glowing arcane glyphs danced across its surface, announcing in bold, shimmering letters:

Round One – Precision Target: Ten Meters.

The words hung like a challenge, daring the competitors below to rise or fall.

A sharp whistle sliced through the coliseum, final as a guillotine.

Then the announcer’s voice boomed, carried by enchanted winds. "Next group—Class D!"

Laughter erupted from Class C’s crowded rows, sharp and cruel, like they’d been waiting to unleash it.

Joren’s slicked-back hair gleamed as he leaned forward, smirking. "Here come the clowns!"

Lila’s ponytail whipped as she cackled, her sharp eyes glinting with malice.

The jeers echoed, amplified by the arena’s magic, stinging like a swarm of wasps.

Class D’s rickety corner groaned as they rose, the splintered benches creaking under their weight, as if the wood itself doubted their worth.

The narrow stone path to the casting line stretched before them, radiating centuries of magic, warm underfoot and humming with latent power.

Eva led the charge, her dark blue hair tied high, pink streaks catching the sunlight like sparks.

Her tight knit top clung to her chest, damp with sweat, outlining every curve as she strode into the light.

Her skirt hugged her strong thighs, riding up just enough to flash a glimpse of blue lace panties, drawing a few whistles from the crowd before she shot a glare that silenced them.

Her green eyes burned, not with anger, but with a vision of victory, locked not on the hovering crystal target but on the future she’d carve for Class D.

The enchanted disc spun lazily ten meters out, its surface shimmering like a taunt.

Eva gripped her mana bead, her chest rising with one deep breath, then another.

Her fingers steadied, and she fired.

Snap.

The bead streaked forward, clipping the center but veering slightly, striking the second ring with a faint hum. The scoreboard blinked, glyphs shifting: 8.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, surprise mingling with curiosity. A no name Class D student, scoring above a five? Unheard of.

Joren’s snort cut through the noise, his voice dripping with disdain. "Beginner’s luck."

Eva didn’t spare him a glance.

She turned, her skirt swishing, and called over her shoulder, her voice sharp as a blade.

"Keep talking, Joren. We’ll bury your worst."

The arena stilled. Joren’s smirk faltered, and for once, he had no comeback.

Olivia stepped forward next, her charcoal-gray pants clinging to her hips, accentuating her slender frame with every calculated step.

Her wavy bob fluttered in the charged breeze, and her hazel eyes gleamed with quiet intensity.

She adjusted her stance, her fingers twitching once—a predator sizing up prey—before she fired.

The bead sailed true, striking the third ring with a soft ping.

The scoreboard flashed: 7.

Olivia didn’t smile, didn’t gloat.

She simply nodded to Eva as they passed, a wordless pact sealed in that glance.

Eva’s lips twitched, a flicker of pride.

Then came Nellie, her ash-brown braids swaying as she stepped into the sunlight.

Her blouse strained over her generous curves, the fabric taut across her chest, and her thick thighs rubbed softly as she shifted her weight.

Her skirt flared slightly, revealing a hint of white lace panties that drew a few gasps from the crowd.

She ignored them, her gray-green eyes locked on the target.

"Don’t trip over your fat—" Lila’s venomous taunt rang out from Class C’s rows, amplified by the enchanted wind.

Nellie didn’t flinch.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her fingers tightened around her bead.

The crystal glowed pale blue, humming with her focus.

She fired.

The bead struck the fourth ring, clean and precise.

The scoreboard pulsed: 6.

The arena fell quiet, the jeers dying in throats.

Even Lila’s sharp tongue stilled, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back, arms crossed.

Class C’s platform buzzed with uneasy whispers.

Nellie turned, her braids bouncing, and walked back to her group.

No gloating, no taunts—just a quiet, satisfied smile that spoke louder than words.

She caught Lor’s gaze from the bench, his hazel eyes half-lidded, lips tilted in subtle approval.

That lazy grin of his sparked something in her, a warmth that steadied her steps.

Lor slouched against the splintered wood, his plain uniform blending into the shadows.

But his eyes missed nothing, tracking every move, every score, every taunt.

His fingers toyed with a mana bead, rolling it idly, but he didn’t stand.

Not yet.

Viora and Myra sauntered to the casting line, their hips swaying in contrasting rhythms—Viora’s sharp and defiant, Myra’s playful and teasing.

The heat of the arena made their skirts cling to their thighs, the fabric outlining every curve.

Viora’s green ponytail whipped in the breeze, her red lace panties peeking briefly as she adjusted her stance with a grunt.

"Let’s get this over with," she muttered, her voice edged with impatience.

She gripped her mana bead, her fingers steady despite her scowl. Her eyes narrowed on the target, and she fired.

Thud.

The bead struck off-center, grazing the fifth ring with a dull hum.

The scoreboard blinked: 4.

No cheers, no gasps—just a ripple of murmurs from the crowd.

Viora shrugged, tossing her ponytail as she stepped back, her skirt flaring just enough to flash that red lace again, drawing a few appreciative whistles from Class B’s lower rows.

She shot them a glare that could’ve sparked a fire.

Myra followed, her brunette curls bouncing as she practically danced to the line.

She threw a wink to the crowd, her lips curving into a teasing grin that made a few Class C boys blush.

"Watch this," she purred, then fired.

The bead zipped forward, striking the fifth ring with a soft ping. The scoreboard glowed: 4.

The crowd didn’t erupt, but the laughter that had plagued Class D earlier didn’t come either.

Myra twirled back to her group, her skirt swishing, and blew a mock kiss to the stands.

"Why aren’t you laughing?" she called, her voice light but pointed.

A few scattered chuckles broke the tension, and even Eva’s lips twitched.

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