[ Babyls – Outside the Misfit Classroom]
Sheets of parchment fluttered around the schoolyard like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind.
"Ugh... there's so many..." Crocell Kerori muttered, her arms full of stamped documents as she walked the path near the Misfit classroom.
Rounding a corner, she stopped in her tracks.
There, lying in the grass — like a fallen general buried in his own strategy — was Iruma, completely covered in approval papers, eyes half-lidded in silent contemplation.
"Iruma?!"
Kerori rushed over, dropping the remaining sheets at his side. Papers scattered everywhere, dozens already stamped and sorted into stacks with swift precision. Iruma didn't move.
"We have twenty-one now," he murmured without looking up, voice calm and soft. "Fifteen more to go."
Crocell sighed, kneeling to help gather the pages.
"You know, I could go full Akudol and get the rest tonight. My fans would do anything just for a look."
Iruma glanced at her, his usual bright innocence replaced with something more... commanding.
"No."
His voice was firm, but not unkind.
"That path is yours, Crocell. Not ours. I won't let you carry our burden alone just to get approval."
Her heart skipped. She blushed faintly but looked away.
Iruma sat up, brushing off his coat.
"The hardest ones will be Buer and Orias. One is obsessed with strength and pride, the other... with rules and reputation."
He stood, stretching slightly before speaking again.
"Ix and Lied will handle Orias. If they stay unpredictable, they'll shake up his expectations."
Kerori raised a brow. "And Buer?"
"I'm sending Sabnock." Iruma smirked, eyes narrowed slightly. "He'll go for strength with strength... and Buer will have to acknowledge it."
Crocell handed him the rest of the sorted seals.
"And you?"
Iruma looked toward the sky. His voice dropped lower, calculating.
"I'll handle the Student Council."
Kerori blinked. "The Student Council? You're not even on it anymore!"
Iruma turned, that eerie calm still cloaking him like a shadow.
"Exactly. Which is why I need them."
He placed the sealed pages neatly back into his folder, his black coat fluttering gently in the wind.
"If we want the Royal One, we need more than stamps. We need legitimacy. And if I can turn Ameri and the Council to our side..."
He glanced over his shoulder, that same quiet smirk returning.
"...we won't just get the Royal One — we'll own it."
---
[ Babyls – Student Council Office]
Bzzt!
Ameri Azazel glanced down at her phone, cheeks flushing as a message lit up her screen:
[Iruma]: I'm on my way. I'd like to talk.
She nearly dropped the device.
"He's coming here?" she gasped, quickly straightening up her uniform and brushing imaginary dust from her desk. Calm down, Ameri. He's just… he's just visiting…
A knock.
She bolted upright.
"C-Come in!"
The door opened and in walked Iruma Suzuki—not the awkward, wide-eyed boy she remembered, but one with sharp eyes and composed posture. His voice, low and unwavering, pierced through the air like steel cloaked in velvet.
"Thank you for seeing me, Ameri. I've come to ask for your seal of approval."
Her breath caught.
He's changed... more self-assured… is this his Evil Cycle again? she wondered.
He stepped closer, locking eyes with her.
"I'll do anything you ask. Just name it."
Ameri blinked, heart hammering.
"I... I can't give you my seal unless I understand your motive, Iruma."
He didn't flinch. "That's fair."
He folded his hands behind his back, and began to speak—not just with logic, but with conviction.
--
[Meanwhile – Orias' Office, Magical Games Division]
"Doot-do-do!!"
A ridiculous game. Clara's invention. But here it was being played with the utmost intensity between Lied and the calculating Orias, whose Lucky Harper magic gave him absurd probability manipulation.
Orias grinned. "I've never lost at a game of chance."
Lied smirked. "Good thing this one isn't purely chance."
As the game progressed, Ix Elizabetta stood behind Lied, her Full Love Gauge surging, pumping up Lied's confidence. Lied activated his ability—Controller—and subtly manipulated the outcome of each game phase.
Final round.
"Doot—DO—DOOOOO!!"
Lied slammed the buzzer a split-second before Orias.
"Victory!"
Orias blinked in surprise as the gauge flashed in Lied's favor.
Ix grinned. "Don't underestimate love magic."
Orias laughed, clapping his hands. "Fine! That was fun. Here's my seal."
[Elsewhere – Training Grounds]
Sabnock Sabro, usually bursting with pride, was now kneeling before Buer Acier.
"I apologize... for how I've treated you in the past. I was... arrogant."
Buer's eyes widened.
"Sabro... are you... kneeling? And apologizing!?"
Sabro nodded sincerely. "If that's what it takes to prove I've changed... and earn your respect."
For a moment, silence.
Then a laugh. "BAHAHAHA! Incredible! You've grown!"
Buer beamed, stamping the approval. "Take it, my boy! Take it and prove you're worthy of the Royal One!"
[Back – Student Council Office]
Iruma leaned slightly forward.
"I want the Misfit Class to have the Royal One because we've outgrown the dungeon classroom. We're called misfits, but we've achieved more than most in Babyls. We've survived, grown, and excelled."
Ameri's heart thumped louder with every word.
"This isn't just about prestige," he continued. "It's about proving that even those cast aside can become leaders. We don't want comfort. We want challenge. The Royal One... is that challenge."
Ameri stood slowly.
She approached him, then stamped a parchment with her seal.
"Then you have my approval, Iruma... because that's the kind of King I'd follow."
Iruma accepted it with a small bow. "Thank you, Ameri."
For a moment, she considered stopping him. Asking him to stay. But instead, she smiled.
As he turned to leave, she whispered under her breath:
"...That Iruma... really is dangerous when he's like this."
---
[ Babyls Academy – Third Day, Late Afternoon]
The sun dipped low behind the towers of Babyls, casting long, slanted shadows across the crimson stone hallways. The Misfit Class had scattered across every wing of the school for the past three days, swindling, negotiating, charming, and outmaneuvering their way through the faculty roster.
Now, they gathered once again in the Royal One Hallway—before the dark, ominous doors of the sealed classroom that had once been home to Demon King Derkila himself.
Papers fluttered in the wind. Clara held a basket overflowing with stamped parchments, while Crocell calmly ticked names off her checklist, one finely-manicured claw at a time.
"That's thirty-five..." she muttered. "Just one more."
Everyone turned toward the center of the group where Iruma stood, arms crossed, the faintest smile playing on his lips.
"So the last seal left is..."
"Professor Kalego," Azz and Jazz said in unison.
Silence fell.
Even Sabro, who had challenged and bowed to Buer in the same day, winced.
"Of course it's him," Lied groaned. "The hardest boss is always the last one."
"He's gonna murder us," Shax added dramatically, already digging a small hole to bury himself in.
But Iruma didn't flinch.
His eyes, sharper than ever, scanned the group, his confidence steady.
"It was always going to come down to him."
Gaap cracked his knuckles. "So what's the plan? Blackmail? Trickery? A bribe?"
"No," Iruma said firmly. "We ask him directly."
A collective what?! surged through the group.
Jazz leaned forward, whispering, "Iruma... we stole from him. You asked him to become your familiar again. He nearly bit through his desk."
Iruma turned to Jazz with a small smirk. "Exactly. And he didn't stop us."
The class blinked.
"I think..." Iruma continued, his tone growing reflective, "...Professor Kalego has been testing us all along. Every time we annoyed him, every time we got into trouble… he never stopped teaching us. He's hard on us because he expects us to rise above."
Caim tilted his head. "So... you think he wants to give us his seal?"
"I think," Iruma said as he took a step toward the faculty tower, "if we prove we're ready—he'll give it. But not for free."
[Faculty Room – That Evening]
Professor Kalego sat at his desk, eyes narrowed as he read through reports. His coffee steamed beside him, untouched. He could feel a disturbance in the air—like an unwanted gust of wind before a storm.
Knock knock.
His eyebrow twitched.
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and in stepped Iruma, alone.
Kalego's eyes locked onto him like twin daggers.
"...You. Again."
Iruma bowed politely, then straightened, voice clear.
"Professor Kalego, I'm here to request your seal of approval for the Misfit Class to obtain the Royal One."
Kalego rose slowly from his chair, his coat fluttering behind him like a battle flag.
"You think I'd give you that seal just because you ask for it?"
"No," Iruma replied, unwavering. "I'm asking because I believe we're ready. And because I believe you knew this day would come."
The room fell still.
Kalego stepped down from his desk platform, stopping inches from Iruma, eyes glowing faintly.
"Then prove it, Iruma Suzuki. Prove you are worthy of standing where only a Demon King once stood."
Iruma nodded.
Outside the faculty room door, the rest of the Misfits listened, tension in their throats.
This was it.