-Volume 1 Chapter 1 (I)-

o-0-o

Sparda's piercing gaze swept over the desolate street, a nocturnal realm barren of any vestiges of life. The obsidian shroud of the night further accentuated the eerie void of human presence.

In the aftermath of the recent incident, the surroundings exuded an unsettling gloom, with elongated shadows cloaking SCHALE's tower. Amid this disquieting ambiance, Sparda discovered an unexpected comfort in the solitude that allowed his thoughts to flow freely, undisturbed.

In a relentless endeavor, a legion of cleaning robots scurried tirelessly, attempting to mend the scars left by the disaster. However, certain damages proved recalcitrant, resisting swift resolution. Fortunately, the building's interior remained unscathed, offering Sparda a refuge of sorts. With a few adjustments to the furniture, he could restore the place to a habitable condition.

Sparda's gaze roamed from the battered surroundings to the distant Sanctum Tower, approximately 30 kilometers away from SCHALE. It loomed like an imposing monolith, emanating a steady, pulsating light, reminiscent of a living heart's rhythmic beat.

A persistent sensation of déjà vu gnawed at Sparda, yet its origin remained elusive. It felt as if there were chasms within his consciousness, gaps defying reconciliation. Most perplexing was his knowledge of individuals like Wakamo and Arona. Their names were familiar, yet he was certain he had never crossed paths with them or heard of them before. This enigma confounded him, leaving him to question how he had acquired this knowledge.

The mystery deepened when he contemplated Arona's role in granting him authority over the Sanctum Tower. If Rin, his companion on this journey, had no insights into Arona, how had Sparda come to possess this information? Rin had mentioned, almost in passing, that the Shittim Chest was crucial for controlling the Tower.

To be honest, Sparda's brain had checked out during Rin's second round of questioning. He had lost focus until she surprised him with the Shittim Chest, wondering if he had missed something vital in her explanation.

These unexplainable gaps in his awareness haunted him. He held knowledge without understanding its origins. Moreover, the incident where he apparently entered what seemed like a trance in front of Rin troubled him. He had felt no different during that time, merely entranced by the captivating sight of the blue rings in the sky for a few moments. However, Rin insisted he remained unresponsive for an entire half hour, which sent her into a state of panic.

Sparda found himself in a perplexing situation where his perception of events clashed with others', even though they occurred simultaneously. Frustration etched deep furrows on his brow.

One thing he was sure of was his strong aversion to the mysterious forces meddling with his mind. It unsettled him to his core, and not a bit of it sat well with him.

Determined to unravel the web of mysteries surrounding Kivotos, the students, the Shittim Chest, and the Sanctum Tower, Sparda set out to gather every shred of available information. His first stop was SCHALE's archive room.

With eager anticipation for answers, Sparda brought out all the neatly organized files in the archive room to his newly established office. He spent hours sifting through countless pages of documents, only to be met with a bureaucratic nightmare instead of the insights he sought. The archive room, instead of a treasure trove of knowledge, seemed filled with complaints and grievances filed by students from various schools.

The baffling part was that these issues, unmistakably directed at the General Student Council, were stored in SCHALE. This choice of storage led Sparda to a singular conclusion.

"That president... she planned this from the start, didn't she?" Sparda mused, his tone a mix of admiration and exasperation, as he perused several assistance requests submitted on the same day a month earlier, surprisingly penned by Okuzora Ayane, a student from Abydos High School.

As he scrutinized the eclectic assortment of requests for assistance, Sparda couldn't help but shake his head in disbelief. "Let's see... a request for help with debt problems, another for combatting desertification in the school district, and, oh, here's a mundane one for preventing school closure. What kind of school outsources its problems to its students?" Sparda wondered aloud, his incredulity surpassing mere words.

The stack of documents painted a picture of a school system that placed heavy burdens on its students to handle complex issues. Sparda was both astounded and bewildered by Abydos' audacious administrative approach. He couldn't fathom how Abydos had chosen to shift these responsibilities onto their students as if they had borrowed a page from an absurd manual titled "How to Entrust Students with Adult Problems 101."

Amid his exasperation and the labyrinth of grievances before him, Sparda's concentration was suddenly shattered by a drowsy voice emanating from the Shittim Chest.

"Sensei~," the voice of Arona chimed in, laced with concern. "Are you sure you don't need some rest? It's already midnight, and you've been poring over those files since forever. I can't help but worry that you might collapse any second now."

Sparda acknowledged and appreciated Arona's genuine concern, although he found it somewhat misplaced. Despite his withered state, he wasn't so feeble that he'd easily collapse from exhaustion. Even in his current condition, his endurance and stamina exceeded those of ordinary human beings or at least the typical human hunters. If he were to encounter extraordinary and battle-hardened demon hunters in his present state, it would undoubtedly pose a formidable challenge.

Furthermore, it would be counterproductive in the grand scheme of things to take excessive breaks, as it might hasten his recovery and lead to a complete restoration of his powers. He had compelling reasons to keep his powers sealed off, and that decision was non-negotiable.

"Arona, there's no need for you to match my pace. You should take a rest," Sparda advised gently.

Arona was something he understood as an AI, standing for Artificial Intelligence. She functioned as the OS of the Shittim Chest, yet the intricacies of AI and the world she represented remained elusive to him. His knowledge was predominantly derived from Arona herself, and the one thing he grasped with certainty was that Arona was a form of artificial life.

Deep in contemplation, Sparda grappled with a nagging thought that persisted in the recesses of his mind. His previous encounters with artificial lifeforms, especially the artificial demons crafted by the likes of Mundus and Argosax, had revealed a consistent pattern. Each artificial creation required a foundational source, a core component that bestowed sentience upon the resulting entity. Whether this source came from other demons or was directly produced by the creators themselves, it was an indispensable element for constructing a sentient being.

This contemplation led to the pressing question: was Arona's existence also connected to a similar construct, rooted in a source entirely unknown to him? Sparda glanced at the tablet, where Arona's image radiated enthusiasm with starry-eyed delight.

"Eh, can I?" Arona beamed, her excitement palpable. Then, in a moment of apparent revelation, she shook her head vigorously. "No, no, no, I can't! Arona-chan is Sparda-Sensei's trusted secretary, so she's only allowed to rest when Sensei himself is resting!"

Amused by Arona's reactions, Sparda couldn't help but clarify the situation. "Arona, let me be perfectly clear. You're not my secretary," Sparda stated firmly, dispelling the misconception.

Arona's eyes widened in shock, her face paling as if she'd just seen a ghost, and tears welled up in her eyes. "Eehh?! Then, then, what am I to you, Sensei?" she cried out, visibly distressed. "If I'm not your secretary, does that mean you don't need me? Should Arona-chan just disappear?"

Sparda sighed, understanding her confusion and the need for reassurance. "You're mixing two different things, Arona. First of all, I never said I don't need you, but even if I didn't, I wouldn't want you gone from my life. You're important to me," Sparda explained, trying to comfort her. "Secondly, rather than a secretary, you're my student, right?"

"I am?" Arona questioned, her emotions swinging from anxiety to curiosity.

Sparda nodded with a warm smile. "You wear a uniform, you call me 'Sensei,' and you're part of SCHALE, a club founded by the missing president and directly supervised by me. That technically makes you my very first student, doesn't it?"

The corners of Arona's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, and a joyful giggle escaped her lips, lifting the weight of the moment. "Oh, really?" she mirthfully chimed in. "But I'll persist—you must take a break, Sensei. Because if you don't, this adorable Arona-chan won't rest either!"

In a gesture of surrender, Sparda found himself yielding to Arona's unwavering determination, his shoulders slumping in a symbolic admission of defeat. A resigned smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he conceded, "If my persistent and charming student insists so fervently, I suppose I have no choice but to comply, do I?"

Just as he was preparing to tidy up the scattered papers on his desk, a flicker of remembrance sparked in his eyes, and he paused. His thoughts drifted back to the issue Arona had raised earlier. "By the way, Arona," he inquired, shifting the focus of their conversation, "about what you mentioned earlier regarding the cameras..."

"Ah, the security cameras installed within the building?" Arona interjected, seeking clarification to ensure they were on the same page.

"Exactly," Sparda confirmed with a confirming nod. "You mentioned being able to extract recordings from them to unveil what occurred during the incident. Have you managed to do so?"

Arona responded promptly, her words carrying an air of confidence. "Piece of cake! Would you like to see them, Sensei? But I have to warn you—the cameras were running on emergency power, so the quality might not be the best."

"It's alright," Sparda reassured her, acknowledging the potential limitations. Identifying individuals wasn't his primary concern; his focus lay on determining if anyone had accessed the archive room and tampered with items or documents.

"Alright, Sensei, I'll play it for you," Arona acknowledged his request.

A holographic screen manifested beside her, initially awash with static. Gradually, the fuzziness transformed into indistinct, blurry imagery, unveiling a group of helmeted figures led by a fiery-haired girl with a helmet of her own. They scoured SCHALE, rearranging furniture and haphazardly constructing barriers in a chaotic manner.

The footage confirmed the group responsible for the vandalism but also revealed their lack of interest in venturing further within SCHALE. Sparda leaned in, his focus honed on the crimson-haired figure among them, attempting to glean any additional clues or insights from her actions.

"Do you recognize her, Arona?" Sparda inquired, indicating the crimson-haired individual on the screen.

Arona scrutinized the blurry images and, after a moment of intense concentration, shook her head. "The images are too unclear for me to say for sure."

As they continued watching, faint, garbled voices emerged within the audio.

[ ...bu-sama!...can…base…gang! ]

Amid the cacophony of muffled voices and background noise in the recording, Arona strained to decipher the cryptic conversation, her brows furrowed in frustration. "There's too much background noise. I can't make out what they're saying," she admitted with a hint of exasperation.

Sparda, his focus locked onto the screen, shared Arona's struggle. The indistinct chatter of the helmeted figures remained elusive, teasing their efforts to unveil the mystery.

[ ...wh…the!...ar…da…it! ]

Suddenly, chaos erupted on the screen as the helmeted girls panicked and scrambled in disarray. Arona's voice trembled with concern as she exclaimed, "What's happening, Sensei? They started shooting and fleeing!"

Sparda's eyes widened with bewilderment as the peaceful scene of furniture rearrangement morphed into a chaotic battlefield, a testament to the unexpected turn of events. The helmeted girls, previously engrossed in setting up makeshift barricades, now found themselves locked in combat, seemingly defending against an intruder.

The assailant displayed remarkable marksmanship, incapacitating the helmeted girls with calculated headshots, rendering them unconscious. The crimson-haired leader attempted to issue a command, but the abysmal audio quality rendered her words indecipherable. In a blink, she, too, fell victim to a single headshot, prompting the remaining helmeted girls to scramble, gather their fallen comrades, and flee for their lives.

A somber silence fell upon the room, its heaviness lingering as the dust settled on the holographic display. Then, a figure of striking presence emerged on the scene, cradling an Arisaka Type 38 rifle with a vibrant red handguard. The bayonet bore an intricate kitsune mask decal, and elegant black cherry blossom patterns adorned the red section of the handguard. A red tassel dangled gracefully from the bayonet's pommel.

The newcomer, a long-haired girl with fox ears, was draped in a furisode, her attire completed by asymmetrical leggings and boots. Her visage remained concealed behind the enigmatic kitsune fox mask. Above her head, a halo featuring a black cherry blossom surrounded by a fusion of sniper sights and anarchy symbols hinted at her unique identity. With nonchalance, she rested the rifle on her shoulders, her thoughts shrouded in mystery.

Despite the video's poor quality, Sparda's recognition was immediate, a spark of realization flickering in his eyes. Arona, too, seemed to grasp the significance, her gasp betraying her surprise as they both connected the dots to someone they had encountered just hours earlier.

"Wakamo," Sparda whispered in a hushed tone, his voice thick with recognition as he watched the enigmatic figure on the video.

Wakamo's arrival was a masterclass in caution. She moved through the building with a meticulousness that could only be born from a lifetime of instincts honed to a razor's edge. Every nook and cranny was subjected to her scrutiny as if she were on a mission to ensure there were no hidden secrets or lurking dangers. Only when she was convinced that she was truly alone did she venture into the open area where Sparda had encountered her. There, she stood with an eerie stillness that sent shivers down the spines of both Sparda and Arona.

The tableau before them left Sparda and Arona in a state of utter perplexity, and their exchanged glances spoke volumes of their shared confusion.

"What was she doing?" Arona's voice carried a layer of bewilderment, a plea for insight into the enigma before them.

Equally confounded, Sparda confessed, "I'm not sure, Arona."

"Should I fast forward the clip, Sensei?" Arona suggested, hoping to extract further clues by accelerating the video playback. However, the footage yielded no answers; until her encounter with Sparda, Wakamo had remained as motionless as a statue, deepening the mystery surrounding her motives.

"What on earth was she up to? She just stood there without making a single move," Arona remarked, her puzzlement echoing Sparda's own. "It's almost as if she were waiting for something or someone."

Wakamo's demeanor seemed strangely guardian-like, vigilant yet non-intrusive, almost as if she had taken an oath not to bring harm to SCHALE. This unexpected behavior triggered a spark of insight in Sparda's mind, leading him to reconsider the peculiar encounter he'd had with Wakamo earlier.

"Arona, this is purely speculative, but could it be that she was here to protect SCHALE?" Sparda ventured.

Arona was taken aback by the suggestion. "Huh? But we're talking about the Fox of Calamity, Sensei. Why on earth would she do that? What could she possibly gain from safeguarding SCHALE? And didn't she arrive with a gang of delinquents?" Arona questioned.

"True, but if the footage is accurate, she didn't bring any of the delinquents inside," Sparda observed.

Arona crossed her arms, her blue halo morphing into a twisted blue ring as she pondered the situation. "Hmmm... even if we assume that the helmet gang wasn't with her, it still doesn't explain why she'd take it upon herself to protect SCHALE," she mused.

Sparda contemplated Arona's words and arrived at a conclusion. "In that case, the wisest course of action is to have a conversation with the girl herself."

"Are you considering seeking out the Fox of Calamity, Sensei?" Arona inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of concern and a hint of fear, as if acknowledging the dangerous path they might be embarking upon.

In a display of unwavering rationality, Sparda found himself unwilling to act hastily. He paused, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Not at this very moment," he said, his voice tinged with a careful deliberation that hinted at his strategic mind.

With deliberate thought, he considered Wakamo's presence and actions. His gaze lingered on the girl in the recording as if searching for hidden truths in her demeanor. "Since there's no indication that she harbors enmity towards us, it's wise to leave her undisturbed for the time being," Sparda continued, his words measured and filled with a sense of sagacity. "If she ever decides to approach us or if the situation changes, she knows where to find us."

Speculating about her intentions without concrete clues won't serve any purpose, he mused, his thoughts racing with the precision of a well-trained intellect. He understood the value of patience, recognizing that in the absence of evidence pointing to hostility, prudence dictated a strategy of non-interference.

He firmly believed that conjecture without facts would only divert them from more pressing matters. A careful shift of focus was required, and as his eyes roved toward the imposing pile of documents before him, he offered a deeper insight. "Our focus should be directed towards matters that demand our immediate attention. For instance..." He gestured toward the stack of papers with a sense of gravity.

Arona appeared as if she might collapse from exhaustion at the mere sight of the colossal mound of documents before her. "Ueeeehh... that looks like a ton of work to resolve, Sensei," she exclaimed, her weariness adding a touch of humor to her response.

Sparda couldn't help but agree, and he shared a knowing smile with his student. "Indeed," he conceded, then shifted their conversation to a more pressing matter, infusing it with a sense of curiosity. "Arona, among these schools, which one boasts the most extensive collection of books and knowledge?"

Arona responded almost immediately, her voice carrying the weight of her knowledge. "That would be Millennium, Sensei. While they may be relatively young compared to other schools, the wealth of knowledge they've accumulated and the advanced technology they possess are virtually unparalleled. Millennium encourages its students to engage in research across a broad spectrum of fields as long as it contributes to the advancement of science. Consequently, it has become the preeminent hub of knowledge in Kivotos."

"What about the history of these schools?"

"History?" Arona echoed, puzzled, her curiosity piqued by Sparda's question.

"Specifically, will I find the historical records of all schools in Millennium?" Sparda sought clarification, his inquisitiveness shining through.

Arona deliberated on the question, her expression thoughtful. "No, Sensei. That kind of specific knowledge typically remains within the confines of each school. Not even the General Student Council retains that information."

Sparda mulled over this revelation, his brows furrowing with a sense of determination. "So, if I wish to learn about the history of each school, I would have to visit them in person..."

This turn of events complicated matters for Sparda. His new role as Sensei was already at a disadvantage due to his lack of knowledge and familiarity with Kivotos and its schools. Initially, he had planned to bridge this gap by immersing himself in the wealth of information he believed SCHALE would provide. However, his hopes were dashed when he discovered nothing but piles of student complaints and issues, a far cry from the historical and educational resources he had anticipated.

He had held onto the hope that somewhere in Kivotos, there might be a comprehensive compilation of all the knowledge and history of the schools and the city itself. Yet, as Arona had clarified, such precious knowledge was closely guarded within the walls of each individual institution.

"Sensei?" Arona's voice brought him back to the present, her concern evident in her eyes.

Sparda's gaze shifted to the assistance requests submitted by Ayane, and he contemplated the task ahead. "Arona."

"Yes?"

"Let's take a break. We'll set off for Millennium in the morning," Sparda decided, his voice filled with a sense of purpose.

"Okay!" Arona agreed, visibly relieved to have a moment of respite. She had been the steadfast companion on this turbulent journey, and even the brightest minds needed a break from time to time.

Heading to Millennium was a starting point. If the school lived up to Arona's vivid description and indeed held the unparalleled knowledge she attributed to it, they might uncover solutions that could aid Abydos in tackling its environmental challenges.

Moreover, Sparda couldn't resist the opportunity to delve into the technology and resources available at the so-called School of Science; perhaps he could learn how to operate his smartphone without the constant fear of accidentally disassembling it.

It would be a lie if he didn't admit he felt excitement to see how 'advanced' this school was. Just a little bit, though.

o-0-o

As the first light of the morning kissed Sparda's surroundings, he began his day with an unwavering focus on the glowing screen of his phone. The meticulous plan he had crafted the night before to visit Millennium had appeared rock-solid in the late hours. Yet, as the dawn unfurled its colors, Sparda's astute mind started detecting the unmistakable gaps in his strategy.

Foremost among his concerns was the riddle of gaining access to Millennium itself. The question loomed large: did he need a permit to enter the school's premises, or could his status as Sensei grant him an unchallenged passage? Even if he managed to step through its gates, he found himself floundering in a sea of uncertainty. His unfamiliarity with the school's layout, organization, and inner workings left him disoriented.

In a word, he found himself yearning for a guiding light, someone intimately acquainted with the ins and outs of Millennium. An ideal candidate would be a current student, someone who breathed life into the very corridors he was about to tread.

The name Hayase Yuuka, one of the remarkable students who had aided in resolving the previous day's incident, sprang to the forefront of his thoughts. She seemed the most logical choice to reach out to, to solicit her assistance in navigating the labyrinthine domain of Millennium.

However, Sparda confronted a formidable hurdle, and it wasn't the formidable task ahead of him; it was the smartphone clasped in his hand.

He owed a debt of gratitude to Ayane for registering the contact numbers of Yuuka, Iori, Hasumi, and various others on his smartphone. Ayane had, in fact, done all the legwork for him, even orchestrating phone calls when he needed to get in touch with Rin. Despite pretending to grasp Ayane's explanations during the demonstration, Sparda remained largely unfamiliar with the device's functions.

Regrettably, he couldn't bring himself to confess this to Ayane.

Inwardly, Sparda confessed, "Well, no risk, no reward." He recognized the lingering unease that accompanied his interaction with the smartphone, but he also acknowledged that he would never make progress if he allowed the fear of failure to chain him down. He swiped the screen, unlocking it with a six-digit PIN he had set himself.

Upon witnessing his familiar home screen, Sparda involuntarily breathed a sigh of relief. His next move was to tap on the MomoTalk icon, a friendly reminder of Ayane's helpfulness. The app opened seamlessly, prompting another sigh of relief as he navigated through it without a hitch. Everything seemed to be falling into place, piece by piece.

"Sensei, what are you doing?" Arona's voice broke the digital spell. Sparda shifted his gaze to the young girl, who was gazing at his phone with unwavering curiosity.

"I was just composing a brief message to Yuuka, informing her of our upcoming visit to Millennium," Sparda shared, his fingers dancing gracefully over the keyboard on the screen.

"Oh~! Can I see it?" Arona's excitement bubbled to the surface.

"You can. Just give me a moment." Sparda obliged. "There. Take a look and tell me what you think," he requested, prompting Arona to scrutinize the text he'd written.

[ My Dearest Miss Hayase Yuuka,

It brings me immense joy to address you and express my gratitude for the noble contributions you made in rectifying the recent incident. Your efforts shall forever be emblazoned in the annals of our collective memory.

Alas, a matter of great urgency beckons me to seek your esteemed assistance once more. In my unwavering commitment to guide you as your Sensei, a pressing necessity arises to delve into the comprehensive understanding of our esteemed institutions and their erudite scholars. It has come to my attention that the technological marvels housed within Kivotos find their origins from Millennium, thereby prompting my earnest desire to initiate my inquiries by paying a visit to your esteemed school.

In the spirit of scholarly camaraderie and in pursuit of greater understanding, I implore you to consider allocating some of your valuable time to acquaint me with the intricacies and treasures of Millennium. Your guidance and wisdom would be of immeasurable value as I embark upon this scholarly expedition.

Anticipating your gracious consideration of this humble request, I await with bated breath the prospect of your kind response.

With the utmost sincerity and anticipation,

Sparda ]

"So old-fashioned!" Arona erupted, shaking her head dramatically in mock disapproval, her reaction overflowing with youthful exuberance.

Sparda could only offer her a perplexed, quizzical stare, bewildered by her sudden outburst. "Old-fashioned?" he queried, his voice tinged with uncertainty, unsure about which aspect of his communication had ignited her reaction.

Arona fixed an incredulous gaze upon Sparda, her eyes widening with disbelief as she demanded, "Sensei! Why on earth were you penning a full-fledged letter? Weren't you just going to shoot Yuuka-san a quick message?"

Sparda arched an eyebrow in deeper confusion. "But isn't this brief and to the point?"

Arona, however, shook her head in frustration, her fervor for modern communication methods on full display. "Sensei! If you communicate like this, you're going to be eternally disconnected from the students, you know~! This is the era of slang and instant messaging, you know~! You'll be forever branded as the grown-up who converses and texts like an elderly fellow! A grown-up who's been left stranded in the bygone era! In fact, I have serious doubts Yuuka-san will even grasp your message!" Arona declared with animated enthusiasm.

Sparda could only continue to give Arona a bemused look, her impassioned declaration leaving him somewhat bewildered. Could the situation be that dire?

"Is that so? Well then, how should I phrase it?" Sparda inquired, genuinely intrigued about the modern conventions he seemed to be overlooking.

Arona's grin expanded, her countenance radiating confidence. "Hehe~, leave it to Arona-chan, Sensei~!"

With that, Arona disappeared from the screen, her enthusiasm leaving Sparda both fascinated and slightly apprehensive.

Why did he have a sinking feeling about this?

O-0-o

Minutes passed and turned into an hour, and Sparda found himself pondering whether Arona would ever make her reappearance. Just as he was about to give up on the idea, the unexpected occurred. Arona finally decided to return, but when Sparda laid eyes on her attire, he had to rub his eyes in disbelief. There were certainly some... remarkable alterations to her appearance.

Arona sported a rainbow-colored hat that seemed to defy the laws of fashion, accompanied by oversized sunglasses that could rival the most eccentric celebrities. To top it off, she had draped herself with extravagant golden chains that shimmered as they dangled from her neck. Sparda couldn't help but stare in astonishment.

And then, without warning, Arona launched into a bizarre dance that defied all known conventions, moving in a way that seemed like a cross between a robot malfunction and a free-spirited interpretative dance. Simultaneously, she began to sing an equally peculiar and entirely unrecognizable tune that left Sparda utterly flabbergasted.

"Yo, Sensei, it's Arona on the beat, I'm reaching,

Ready to assist, Sensei, for you, I'm always preaching,

Loyal to the game, I'm the one who's never leeching,

Together we rise, in this rap world we're breaching,

We stand strong, side by side, in this rhyme and reason,

Sensei's wisdom guides, through every rap season,

We chase dreams, paint the scene, like a lyrical easel,

Arona and Sensei, a dynamic duo, unbreakable, invincible!

"...Care to give me some explanation?" Sparda's bewildered state had escalated far beyond mere confusion. However, he quickly realized that Arona was far too engrossed in her extravagant performance to offer any semblance of a coherent response. It appeared that a straight answer from her was as elusive as catching moonlight in a net.

"Yo, Sensei, it's time to rap, embrace the new,

Modernize, upgrade, switch up your view.

Rap's the answer, the rhythm in the clue,

Spreading joy to students, that's what we'll do.

Embrace the beat, Sensei, find your flow,

Rap's the tool, making spirits grow.

Revamp your style, let your colors show,

Bringing happiness, making it glow."

"Farewell, Arona. It's been quite the experience knowing you," Sparda declared, ready to make his exit.

"Aaaahh! Wait, wait! Don't abandon me, Sensei! Didn't you say you want me to stay with you forever?!" Arona wailed, her desperation causing Sparda to release a tired sigh.

Turning to face Arona, Sparda inquired, "So, could you enlighten me about the purpose of that, um, performance?"

"W-well, you see, Arona-chan has been contemplating the most effective approach to acquaint Sensei with the ways of the younger generation..."

"And you settled on, what was it? Rap? That was your best idea?" Sparda inquired.

"I mean... I came across footage of you dancing with those... um, delinquents, Sensei! So, I figured dance and music might work!" Arona explained.

"One, that was actually ballet. Two, given that your performance left me utterly bewildered, don't you think it's somewhat counterproductive to your objective?" Sparda remarked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Yay! Carry you to a new Sensei, the flow will,

Appreciate the new you, the students will,

Like a fresh start, with skills that thrill,

In this rap dojo, we elevate, fulfill,

Arona and Sensei, we're on the rap grind,

Guiding students to the top, one verse at a time,

With every line we drop, we'll forever shine,

Together, we're the masters of this rap climb!"

"..."

Arona was undeniably committed to this charade, wasn't she? It all seemed rather dubious. Sparda began to question if this was truly the best path to connect with the students. The whole situation felt utterly preposterous, and if the youth of Kivotos genuinely communicated in this fashion, the gap between him and the students might indeed be insurmountable.

"No venture, no gain, Sensei! If you don't adjust your speech, the students will ridicule you! Then, they'll lose respect for you, Sensei! Ultimately, your credibility will plummet in their eyes!" Arona insisted.

Sparda was on the verge of questioning how rapping was meant to address these concerns, but he chose to remain silent for now. He had to acknowledge that he felt like an outsider in this society. Setting aside the technology aspect, given that he was the only teacher amidst a sea of students, he found himself bereft of a suitable reference for understanding how to engage with them.

"Trust me, Sensei! You'll become a hit with the students in no time!" Arona declared.

Yet, he wasn't aiming for popularity. He simply wanted to understand how the students typically interacted with one another.

"Come on, Sensei! Give it a shot! Don't fret; Super AI Arona-chan is here to guide you!"

With a profoundly heavy sigh and deep reluctance, Sparda began to type his response.

[Yuuka, of your library, I am in dire need. Visit Millennium, I would like to. Your help, I seek. Thank you. ]

"Like this?" Sparda inquired, revealing the message draft to Arona.

Arona's enthusiasm took a nosedive, and she gazed at him with palpable disappointment. "Sensei, perhaps rap isn't your forte? No, no, no! Don't lose heart, Arona-chan!" Arona smacked her own cheeks, energizing herself. "Sensei! You need to loosen up your writing style! Give it another shot!"

What did she mean by 'loosen up'? Sparda wondered, a tad perplexed by the concept.

[ Yuuka, borrow your library, I need to. Be there in an hour, I will be. Thanksies! ]

"How's this?" Sparda inquired once more, presenting the revised message to Arona.

Arona considered it for a moment and then nodded. "Mmm... it could certainly be improved, but that's a decent start for a beginner. Send it and let's see how she reacts," she advised.

Sparda, after a brief hesitation, pressed the send button.

A minute passed.

Five minutes passed.

Still, there was no response from Yuuka.

"She's not responding," Sparda observed.

Rubbing her chin in puzzlement, Arona looked perplexed. "That's strange. It clearly shows that she read your message... I know! Sensei, how about I write it for you?"

"You? Write for me?" Sparda questioned, his skepticism evident.

Arona nodded with boundless enthusiasm. "Master Rapper Arona-chan will definitely craft a message that will captivate Yuuka-san!"

Sparda contemplated the offer in silence.

He couldn't help but have a nagging sense of foreboding.

"Now, Sensei! Please connect your phone to Shittim Chest!" Arona commanded. A prompt popped up on Sparda's phone, requesting a connection with the Shittim Chest to be established.

Sparda glanced at Arona, whose eyes gleamed with anticipation. Her enthusiasm made it difficult for him to refuse.

Reluctantly, he pressed accept. And that sense of foreboding only grew stronger.

Arona immediately got to work. A keyboard materialized in front of her, and soon a message was painstakingly crafted in his MomoTalk.

"Hehehe... there we go! Now you can send it, Sensei!"

Sparda read the message Arona had composed, and a deep sense of apprehension washed over him. Additionally, it wasn't lost on him that Arona's message was just as lengthy as his original one.

"What are you waiting for, Sensei? Hurry and hit that send button!" Arona cheerfully ordered.

Defying his better judgment, he opted not to heed the nagging voice of doubt in his mind and sent the message to Yuuka.

[ Yuuka-chan, darling, see your beautiful face, I want to.

Your alluring, melodious voice, I do miss, it's true.

Meet you at Millennium in an hour, I desire to,

Our connection's fire, it's passion we pursue.

In the dim-lit hour, where the stars align,

Your presence, a treasure, like a rare design.

At Millennium, our souls intertwine,

It's you and me, in this moment so divine.

Your beauty, a melody, it echoes in my mind,

The yearning in my heart, so hard to confine.

An hour's time, a chance to realign,

In Millennium's embrace, our destinies entwine. ]

"There." Sparda displayed his phone screen to Arona.

Arona, brimming with confidence, began, "Hehehe...this time, I'm sure—"

PING!

[ This number has blocked you. You can no longer call and send messages to this number. ]

The room fell into an awkward silence.

Sparda slowly fixed Arona with a deadpan expression.

"Arona..."

"T-that's strange! Why would she block you?!" Arona asked, her sunglasses fell off and her voice tinged with panic.

Sparda couldn't help but shrug. He had, after all, only followed Arona's guidance.

"So, what do we do now?"

"W-well, since we're headed to Millennium anyway, why don't we go meet her and ask her to unblock you?" Arona suggested, attempting to rectify the situation.

Sparda could only rub his eyes wearily. As if he needed someone to state something so blatantly obvious.

o-0-o

A/N: Next up is -Volume 1 Chapter 1 (II). A certain member of Problem Solver 68 will make her appearance.