[ Babyls Academy – Morning Arrival]
The royal carriage glided to a stop outside the main gates of Babyls.
As the doors opened, students paused mid-conversation. A hush fell over the courtyard.
Iruma stepped out.
Gone was the sheepish, wide-eyed freshman. What emerged now was poised—shoulders back, posture straight, eyes half-lidded with disinterest, yet every step deliberate. He didn't smile. He didn't wave.
He simply walked.
Flanked by Azz, who walked proudly beside him, and Clara, who skipped as usual but glanced at Iruma every so often with confusion and awe.
Whispers rippled through the student body like wildfire:
"W-was that Iruma-kun?!"
"Why's he walking like That? Arrogant bastard."
"Did you see the way he looked at us? I felt like I was being judged by a demon king…"
Even upper-year students turned heads. Some stiffened subconsciously. Others looked away.
[ Misfit Class – Classroom]
Inside the classroom, tension lingered in the air.
Iruma sat near the window with his legs crossed, one arm resting on the desk, phone in hand. His fingers tapped slowly on the screen. He wasn't texting. He was calculating something—or simply keeping his mind sharp.
Azz returned with two cups of demon tea and handed one to Iruma with quiet reverence.
"Here, Iruma-sama. Blackfire blend, no sugar."
"…Hn."
Iruma took the cup without thanks.
Nearby, Clara bounced up with a sweet giggle.
"We brought tea, Iruma! I put a heart-shaped sugarcube in mine!"
Iruma didn't even glance at her before patting his thigh once, eyes still on the screen.
"Sit."
Clara blinked. "…Eh?"
"You heard me."
She blushed wildly but obeyed, hopping onto his lap like a child sitting on Santa's knee.
Across the room, Caim bit into a pen in raw envy.
"WHYYYYY does he get Girl on his lap?! I've been trying that move for months!"
The other misfits watched from their seats, speechless.
Goemon whispered, "What's with Iruma today…? Did he fuse with an archdemon or something?"
Azz turned to the others as he placed a small blanket over Iruma's shoulders.
"Don't be so Curious. Iruma-sama has merely entered an Evil Cycle. It's natural. I expected as much."
Elizabetta blinked. "Isn't it supposed to make you act out of character?Right?"
"Exactly," Azz said proudly. "This is a glimpse of Iruma-sama's hidden Desire."
Iruma sniffed the blanket once, then flicked it off his shoulders.
"Tch… this whole area reeks of weak Beautiful smell and garbage."
The class fell silent.
From the stairway, a stench crept into the room.
"Hey—look at that!" Dosanko {One eye girl} cried out, pointing outside. "There's a huge trash pile near the stairs again! Who dumped it there?"
Two upperclassmen from a different hall casually walked past—laughing to themselves.
Iruma stood up slowly, brushing off his uniform. His voice was low.
"Disgusting."
The two students stopped and turned.
"Got a problem, little prince?"
Then they noticed Azz standing beside Iruma. Their smirks disappeared.
"Tch—You Iruma , Sabro and Alice's with them? I'm not picking a fight with this psycho," one muttered. The other grabbed him by the sleeve.
"Let's bounce."
They fled the scene.
Iruma stepped forward.
Trash had piled high after a chaotic battle training session. The students of Class Misfit stood around the debris, arguing over who should clean up the mess.
Then, Iruma stepped forward.
Iruma didn't answer. Instead, he slowly extended two fingers forward and whispered,
"Fire Style: Crimson Moon Incineration—Katon: Shōen no Mai (Flame Elegy Dance)."
A deep crimson aura flickered around his Mouth. In an instant, an enormous flame erupted from his hand—but this wasn't normal fire. It moved like a serpent made of velvet, twisting and curling with deliberate grace.
The flames didn't roar. They hummed softly.
Like an elegant snake performing a deadly ballet, the flame spiraled around the trash—not burning outward, not spilling over. Every particle was vaporized, disintegrating into shimmering red embers that floated up like fireflies.
Gasps echoed around the field.
"W-what kind of spell was that? So cool." Clara blinked.
Even Jazz, who was always sarcastic, could only whisper:"Wow."
Asmodeus's eyes widened with deep admiration. "Such perfect flame control.... Truly worthy of my Iruma-sama!"
Iruma said nothing. The wind carried away the last floating embers.
Iruma turned to face the class.
"This classroom…" he began, eyes scanning the others. "A place mocked by others despite having elite-ranked demons. You all sit here, unbothered.You disgusted and filthy you feel?"
He turned his back to them.
"I've had enough of this Disgusting cell."
He raised his chin.
"I'll be transferring. From this crummy class to a castle."
The room shook. Whether it was magic or sheer authority wasn't clear.
Alice clapped his hands together in excitement. "A castle for Iruma-sama? I shall begin designing the floor plan immediately!"
Clara, still on his lap, raised a hand. "Can I get a slide from my bed to the snack pantry?"
Iruma gave the faintest smile. "If you behave."
The class erupted with questions—but none dared defy him.
---
[ Babyls – Hallway Outside Faculty Room]
The grand hall buzzed with rumors.
"Did you hear? That Iruma kid got booted from the Student Council."
"Figures. His class is full of weirdos anyway."
"Bunch of freaks trying to act like nobles."
"But he is strong didn't you see there battle ?"
"Well there He is just Rank 5. But his classmate all are Rank 3"
"Well our classmate only has one Rank 3"
"tch."
Laughter echoed—until the air shifted.
The crowd of gossiping students froze as the Misfit Class arrived, striding in formation.
Iruma stood at the front—dark coat slightly flowing, one hand in his pocket, the other resting near his sword's hilt. Behind him, Sabro cracked his knuckles with a smug grin. Jazz adjusted his cuffs with lazy menace, and Azz exuded aristocratic pride. Clara, hopping and spinning, stopped dead the moment she sensed the tension.
A tall third-year boy stepped into Iruma's path, sneering.
"You think walking around with those rejects makes you look strong?"
Iruma looked at him. Slowly. Coldly.
Then, in a move too swift for most to register, Iruma stepped forward, his hand slightly raised. A flicker of glowing chakra-like energy rippled from his shoulder down to his hand as translucent, skeletal fingers formed behind him—a partial Susanoo arm made of condensed magic energy.
It pressed a single fingertip against the boy's chest—without touching.
A crushing pressure dropped over the hallway like a curtain.
The boy staggered back, eyes wide, his instincts screaming danger.
Iruma's voice was soft. Lethal.
"If you're done barking, move."
The student gulped and stepped aside as if yanked by invisible strings.
"Thank you sir"
Iruma dropped his hand, the spectral arm vanishing like mist.
He continued forward without looking back.
[ Faculty Room – Inside]
Kalego stood behind his desk, arms crossed.
He watched them enter, unamused.
"You're late."
Iruma said nothing.
Azz stepped forward.
"We wish to file a formal request to relocate our classroom."
"We've discussed this before," Kalego replied coldly. "Denied."
Iruma took a step forward, his tone calm and sharp.
"Our current room is insufficient. It is constantly disrespected for as High rank demon. Trash is dumped outside it daily, despite the incineration room being directly next to it. The environment itself is a statement—one that says we are troublemaker."
"That's because you don't," Kalego snapped. "Every one of you earned your place there. Sabnock tried to overthrow the school. Clara… exists. Alice burned down a training hall. Jazz picks pockets. Iruma—" he paused. "You are a complete a hypocrite. Who fought against his very own classmate during his first day."
Iruma stepped closer.
"And yet, we rise. We win festivals, contests, challenges. We have three Rank Daleth members and rising stars. Tell me, professor… what exactly about us is misfit now?"
The room fell quiet.
Kalego narrowed his eyes. "Everything."
He strode to the wall and tapped a large map of the school. Red pins dotted a central stairwell next to a small, labeled square: Misfit Class.
"This is where students drop garbage. Why?"
He spun to face them.
"Because you are still seen as garbage. That's the reputation your class carries. And now you demand a change of scenery as if that will fix your image?"
Iruma smirked slightly.
"No."
He stepped forward.
"I demand the Royal One."
Silence.
Sabro blinked. "He's serious."
Kalego didn't speak for a moment. Then…
"WHAT?!"
In a flash of black magic, his familiar Cerberus Butte burst into the room, snarling and baring teeth.
"You want to enter that classroom? The one sealed since Demon King Derkila vanished? That throne of pride and authority?!"
Iruma's eyes glinted with violet light.
A dark purple Susanoo ribcage shimmered around him—brief, but real.
"Yes."
Kalego's breath caught.
That pressure—those eyes—he felt like he was looking at a predator.
Iruma calmly continued.
"If you deny our written request, I'll just collect every faculty signature myself. I'll have the paperwork on your desk by the end of the week."
Kalego's eye twitched. He snapped his fingers and dismissed Cerberus.
He walked back to his desk slowly, considering.
"…Three days."
Iruma blinked once.
"What?"
"You have three days," Kalego said firmly. "If you truly think the Royal One is fit for you, convince the entire faculty in that time. If even one denies it—your class stays where it is."
Azz whispered, "Kalego-sensei, that's…"
"I accept."
Iruma's voice cut through cleanly.
Jazz facepalmed. "We're going to die."
Sabro cracked his neck. "Three days is enough."
Clara raised her hand. "Can we make slime decals for our new class~?"
Kalego stared at Iruma. He couldn't tell if this boy was insane… or if he had just witnessed the birth of a true demon lord.