Chapter 101

It's a perfectly good lunch break, not staying in Teleisen but running outside; aside from reasons like the lab furnishings not being comfortable enough, naturally there is something else.

Or rather, there are two things.

Besides the email from the alma mater notifying about the distribution of electronic diplomas and inquiring whether physical diplomas will be mailed or picked up in person, there is also the sudden contact from Dawei's older brother—Man'en.

The latter was indeed unexpected, yet understandable.

Because in Aomo's initial thought, the friends on Dawei's side should have noticed Dawei's changes when Aomo was still in Heaven's Gate City, and perhaps wanted to meet him.

But at that time he was still in Heaven's Gate City; if he really wanted to meet, it should have been after he came back.

The first day passed with no word, so Aomo didn't think much of it; today's sudden contact... perhaps Dawei said something yesterday when he went back?

In terms of transmigrants' memory reserves, or what could be called 'secondary otaku density', Aomo is far inferior to Bi Ze, so his impression of Man'en remains a rough patchwork image.

That was a team leader who could make Dawei look up to him alone.

If it were him coming to contact me...

Aomo had many thoughts at once, but facing the many gazes that came with stepping onto campus, he still decided to wait and see.

As the use of electronic diplomas becomes increasingly diverse and comprehensive, the status of physical diplomas naturally becomes precarious.

As for collectible value, this thing's collectible value is only relevant to the parties involved.

Nowadays, jobs that require presenting a physical diploma are very special, but these jobs do not include trainers.

The reason Aomo specially came once is not that his sense of ceremony suddenly kicked in, forcing him to get a physical certificate, but simply to return to his alma mater and have a look.

After the college entrance exam, entering vacation, it hasn't been long until now, but it still feels like a world apart.

Especially when classmates unanimously ignored the distribution of physical diplomas, to the point that in a huge classroom only he sat down, that sense of being worlds apart grew stronger.

From time to time, sophomores and freshmen who still have a few days of classes before finals run through the hallway.

Most of them are just laughing and horsing around.

They haven't reached the point where they should be anxious about the future; their minds are fixed on counting the time until finals arrive, looking forward to the longest summer vacation in the year-long break.

Only the class bell and mock exams can make their expressions fall.

The most carefree days of life are also during this period.

Having gained an initial understanding of the world and society, in the throes of youthful passion and restlessness, they have goals, ideals, and motivation.

No different from the horse girls.

After all, every horse girl's previous life was a human infant, selected by the fate of the horse spirit from another world, after which they would show their transformation.

But just as horse girls differ from one another, so do people differ among themselves.

Compared to classmates from happy, well-off families who even brag about the amount of pocket money they get from parents and elders, Aomo has always been unable to join such conversations, only able to continue as before, watching and observing them from the sidelines.

"Even if your classmates aren't here, are you still like this?"

The familiar burly build, pointed ears and antlers, and that green face—actually just hair and beard—seeing the director of discipline appear at the doorway, Aomo's unfocused attention also came together.

"You really came early." He chuckled.

"Not that early either; it's already after the third period," the director of discipline, placing the documents tucked under his arm on the desk, handed over the certificate he was holding, "Only you are willing to come pick it up, so I'll just have it ready for you."

"Ah, thank you, homeroom teacher."

Well-behaved as if still the model of a first-year high school enrollee, seeing Aomo seemingly unchanged, the director of discipline shifted his gaze and glanced at the hallway by the door.

The class bell had already started ringing; students should return to class, but he hardly had any lessons left to attend.

"I said, only you. If more kids were willing to come pick it up, I definitely wouldn't have this leisure."

The director of discipline politely said there was no need to thank him, and added:

"Maybe I should be the one saying thanks."

Looking again at this child, he sighed, "At least having a student willing to come see the school makes my heart feel a bit better."

"Is it really that bad?" Aomo touched a sore spot.

"Three years of education, three years of getting along—at least give yourself a good ending, but everyone thinks the college entrance exam's end counts as the wrap‑up." The stern face of that middle‑aged dark elf, creasing his brows, was filled with resignation.

"Over forty people and only one showed up—and it just had to be you."

"Ah, I don't have anything against you; I just thought you were the least likely to come."

"After all, you should be busy, right?"

Saying that, he actually sat down directly facing Aomo's seat in front of him.

Most students could hardly imagine that the fearsome director of discipline would have this affable demeanor; those classmates should have had some chance, but they didn't come either.

The adult who had disciplined them for three years finally had a chance to set aside his authority and act as a kind elder, yet the only one facing him was a single student.

And this student happened to be the one who gave him the least sense of having educated anyone.

Because he was too low‑maintenance, there was hardly any substantive feeling of education, making it hard for him to say this was 'a student he could be proud of'.

"If it were Bi Ze, I believe he'd be willing to come; too bad he's held back." Someone silently gave his friend a jab.

"Most transmigrants indeed pay more attention to paper documents than contemporary people." The director of discipline nodded, still remembering that sufficiently special student.

In the class discussing life goals, only that child's answer was the most sloppy.

In the Holy Terra Federation, contemporary young people almost all have ideals and dreams; even Aomo, a student whose family circumstances make his life harder and more desperate than others', has a different goal.

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As for Bi Ze, his goal is simply to get by day by day.

It seems that just living here counts as achieving one's ideal.

Given that the transmigrants' original worlds varied in environment, the director of discipline couldn't say much then; he just smoothed things over and shifted the topic to the other students.

Having served in his post, he has overseen the education of over a hundred transmigrants and knows well that some otherworldly environments are awful, harsh, even extremely dire.

Even some transmigrants, when they first speak of their goals, merely say 'to survive'.

Besides that, everything else is considered a luxury to them; even reaching out takes courage.

There are also somewhat better-off transmigrant students who, although they possess respectable ideals, are shy to voice them, as if ideals and dreams would inevitably be met with ridicule.

Clearly, they're already this old.

They still haven't truly adapted to this world—whenever they see a similar scene, the Discipline Director sighs inwardly.

"How has he been lately?"

"He boasted about coming to Tresen to visit me, but then didn't dare come, saying he'd added over twenty games to the game library and decided to play them thoroughly, but I never saw him pop up online, though I could see he'd subscribed to a few source-energy research channels."

"Maybe he's finally preparing to improve." He said indifferently.

"Describing the behavior of a newborn extraterrestrial only makes him feel like a researcher."

"Although he probably thinks this is secretly sucking up to me, and will surprise me later."

"So is that a good thing?" the Discipline Director chuckled.

"As long as it's not just a three-minute enthusiasm."

"As the one who personally facilitated this change, Aomo could only say he felt somewhat relieved, but not overly happy."

"By the way, I also suspect he'll go to some dangerous areas to seek opportunities."

"As a Transmigrator, the phenomenon of considering oneself the protagonist is fairly common, especially among those from F-rank other worlds—where supernatural abilities hardly exist, technological development is still in its early stages before space exploration, highlighting a burst of creativity."

"Nor do they consider that a tragic protagonist is still a protagonist—who isn't the main character of their own life?"

"However, Bi Ze has always been fairly self-aware, nowhere near that extent—at most just a bit of wishful thinking."

"... That's not very dangerous? We need to warn him quickly!"

"Although the topic is a slacker student who's being held back, the Discipline Director still shows a moving sense of responsibility."

"Just warning him isn't enough; I've actually plotted a set of possible opportunity points across the Boundary Gate Area for him to follow along the way," Aomo raised his elbows, interlaced his fingers and pressed them to his nose, his gaze drifting away, "From martial arts to source energy, I've marked different levels of training grounds and the odds of encountering major figures—he's probably experiencing the anticipation of a holy pilgrimage seeking fortune right now."

"Just wait for him to come back embarrassed and complain."

"... You're really not afraid something will happen to him? That kind of thing is prone to accidents."

"Because I also issued a 'Twelve Safety and Alarm Methods Even Bi Ze Can Understand'," said Aomo, smiling at him, "the combination of the Boundary Gate Area's police station and counter-terrorism tactical unit is quite reassuring."

"... And how about you?"

"The Discipline Director, at a loss for words, sighed and brought the topic back to the main point."

"Pretty busy—I found an opportunity to go to Central Tresen and secure a trainer position."

"Saying something so excessive so casually, the man recalled the overly demanding qualifications for the trainer exam at Central Tresen from his memory, unsure whether to say this kid was hiding his talent or had some special trick."

"He had no doubt whatsoever that Aomo might be pretending to be stronger than he is, but he felt that given the kid's already complicated situation, anything was possible."

"Thinking about that, he also fell silent for a few seconds, then sighed deeply."

"I was wondering if your situation isn't so good, whether I should come visit you in a few days, but now it seems you'll find a way out for yourself."

"Life can find its own way out—this remark was once criticized by a biology teacher as biased, since countless lives have perished."

"When struggling, luck is important—my luck is rather subtle." Aomo chuckled.

"Is it hit or miss?" the Discipline Director said, shifting the topic with understanding, "Now that you've become a trainer, what about mercenary work?" "I'm preparing to open an office, handling both."

"That'll be busy, right? Do you need help planning?"

"He enthusiastically proposed: 'I've helped many mercenary students arrange things before, but if you choose to open your own office, I can probably only pull a few strings for you.'"

"As a Transmigrator who has settled here, the Discipline Director is also one of the few teachers unbiased toward students choosing mercenary work, after all most Transmigrators register as mercenaries."

"That's a common choice when one can't immediately adapt to the local environment, and compared to those who wander around before settling down, an office tends to start off much more stable."

"You mean?" "Clock Tower, Rhodes Island."

"But it's just a connection; the real link still depends on you, since my ties with them aren't deep either."

"The Discipline Director said, pointing to the teacher's certificate hanging on his chest: 'I've just accepted a few students from their side before.'"

"Like David and Miss Grace?"

"Yeah, oh, speaking of David, the kid's office of the Fringe Runners is also suitable as an early-stage ally, and I can try to connect you with them."

"That's not necessary."

"Oh?"

"Mr. Mann has an appointment to meet me, coming up soon."