The Laziest God Mortal Reincarnation

Zenith Academy had too many stairs.

I had reached this conclusion yesterday.

This morning merely provided additional evidence.

I walked toward the orientation hall with Dream Haven tucked comfortably beneath my arm while the rest of Class Five moved around me.

Thirty-six people.

My people.

Apparently.

I still disliked the wording.

At least finding my classmates was easy.

Every first-year wore the standard Zenith uniform.

Dark navy jacket.

Silver trimming.

White shirt.

Black trousers or skirt.

Academy crest over the left side of the chest.

Except five of us.

The class leaders wore black.

Same general design.

But the silver lines around the collar, shoulders, and cuffs were wider, and directly beneath the Academy crest rested a silver numeral identifying our class.

Mine was:

V

I looked down at it.

Public humiliation through clothing.

"Can I switch uniforms with someone?"

"No."

Penelope answered without even looking at me.

"I wasn’t asking you."

"You were."

"I was speaking generally."

"While looking directly at me."

Unfortunate evidence.

We kept walking.

Penelope’s uniform was perfectly arranged.

Her purple hair was neat.

She was completely awake.

Suspicious behavior this early in the morning.

"Alash."

"What?"

"Talk to them."

I looked around.

My classmates were already doing that.

Small groups had naturally formed during the walk.

Some were discussing yesterday’s assignments.

Others were comparing rooms.

A few were probably deciding who they liked and disliked despite knowing each other for less than twenty-four hours.

"They seem capable of talking without my assistance."

"To each other."

"Exactly."

Penelope stared at me.

I stared back.

Then continued walking.

"You’re their leader."

"According to my jacket."

"And Zenith."

"Same problem."

She sighed.

"At least learn some names."

"I read the roster."

"That isn’t the same thing."

"Why?"

"Because they’re people, Alash."

Ah.

There it was.

The argument that ruined many efficient solutions.

I sighed.

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many people do I need to talk to before you stop bothering me?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"That’s not how this works."

"Five."

"No."

"Three."

"You’re negotiating downward."

"Correct."

"Talk to whoever we encounter."

Dangerous wording.

Everyone was technically someone we encountered.

I looked toward the nearest student.

Brown hair.

Broad shoulders.

Sword at his waist.

He noticed.

Too late for both of us.

"Hello."

He blinked.

"...Hello."

Good.

Finished.

I looked toward Penelope.

She made a small motion with her hand.

Continue.

Cruel.

I returned my attention to the boy.

"I’m Alash."

His eyes moved toward the silver V beneath my crest.

Then back to my face.

"Yes."

Exactly.

Pointless.

"I’m Roland Mercer."

"Good."

Penelope’s expression changed.

I corrected myself.

"Nice to meet you."

Roland smiled slightly.

"You too."

Excellent.

Conversation completed.

I resumed walking.

Penelope caught my sleeve.

"No."

I stopped.

"What?"

"Ask him something."

Roland looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Poor man.

Neither of us had requested this interaction.

My eyes moved toward the sword hanging at his waist.

"What weapon do you use?"

Silence.

Roland looked down.

I followed his gaze.

Right.

Not my strongest question.

Penelope covered part of her face.

Roland laughed.

"Sword."

"I suspected."

That made him laugh harder.

Fine.

At least someone was enjoying this.

"Attribute?"

"Steel. I also know some Earth."

Ah.

I remembered him now.

A potential.

Defensive fighter.

Useful.

"Good attribute."

He seemed surprised.

"Thanks."

"Try not to die."

His smile vanished.

Penelope elbowed me.

"What?"

"Why would you say that?"

"It’s excellent advice."

Roland looked between us.

Then laughed again.

"I’ll keep it in mind, Leader."

I grimaced.

"No."

His grin widened.

Wonderful.

I had encouraged him.

We kept walking.

Penelope looked satisfied.

"See?"

"What?"

"That wasn’t difficult."

"It was exhausting."

"You spoke to one person."

"Exactly."

[Your social endurance appears dangerously low.]

’Nobody asked you.’

[You are expected to lead thirty-six people.]

’I remain optimistic that most will be self-sufficient.’

[Delusional.]

I ignored it.

Unfortunately, Penelope wasn’t finished.

She introduced me to another classmate.

Then another.

Then another.

By the time the orientation hall appeared ahead, I had accumulated several names.

Roland Mercer.

Steel.

Mira Ellowen.

Wind and Sound.

Quiet.

Exceptional hearing.

I immediately decided never to complain near her.

Possibly within the same building.

Cedric Vale.

No relation to the Headmaster.

He clarified that before I could ask.

S potential.

Fire and Force.

Far too energetic.

Lena Arkwright.

Water.

Apothecary.

That last part made her significantly more interesting.

"What kind of potions do you make?"

Lena blinked.

Then smiled.

"Mostly recovery mixtures. I’ve been studying mana stabilizers too."

"What type?"

"Channel stress and mana exhaustion."

We spoke for nearly three minutes.

Penelope noticed.

Naturally.

"So you can hold conversations."

"Lena makes potions."

"That doesn’t change what I said."

"It changes everything."

Lena laughed.

Penelope sighed.

"I don’t know why I’m surprised."

Neither did I.

We reached the orientation hall.

I looked upward.

Zenith continued its ongoing war against reasonable architecture.

Tall white pillars framed the entrance.

Silver banners carrying the Academy crest hung from the walls.

Only first-years entered.

No older students.

No families.

Just the one hundred and eighty-seven students who had officially become Zenith’s newest generation.

That was better.

Still too many people.

But better.

"Can I go back?"

"No."

"Excellent discussion."

Penelope walked inside.

I followed.

The orientation hall was still enormous.

Apparently Zenith had built it with optimism.

Or poor spatial judgment.

Our entire year occupied the front half easily.

Five sections had been prepared.

One for each class.

Class One.

Class Two.

Class Three.

Class Four.

Class Five.

The black leader uniforms made finding the other four SSS students extremely easy.

Elizabeth Aurelius sat near the front of Class One.

Golden hair.

Yellow eyes.

Perfect posture.

Silver I beneath her crest.

She somehow made the same black uniform look royal.

Of course she did.

James Vellaroux sat at the front of Class Two.

II.

Black hair.

Black eyes.

Broad shoulders.

Straight posture.

He looked prepared for someone to announce a duel instead of

orientation.

Sophie Trohan sat with Class Three.

III.

Brown hair.

Green eyes.

Talking to two students beside her.

Smiling.

Again.

How did someone smile that frequently?

Was it training?

Daphne Spinster sat with Class Four.

IV.

Black hair.

Red eyes.

Quiet.

Watching.

Her expression revealed almost nothing.

Then there was me.

V.

Silver hair.

Black uniform.

Pillow.

Balanced representation.

I moved toward my assigned seat.

Front row.

Of course.

Visibility.

Responsibility.

All terrible concepts.

Penelope sat beside me.

That improved things slightly.

I placed Dream Haven behind my back.

Several nearby students looked toward it.

I ignored them.

I was developing resistance.

Then the System spoke.

[Host.]

Its tone changed instantly.

No sarcasm.

No commentary.

I became more alert.

’What?’

[Akashic resonance detected.]

My eyes slowly moved across the hall.

Yesterday, the System had detected all four fragments somewhere in the crowded plaza.

It hadn’t been able to pinpoint their locations.

Now?

There were only one hundred and eighty-seven students inside.

And I already knew exactly where the four SSS candidates were sitting.

’How many?’

[Four.]

I stared at Elizabeth.

Then James.

Sophie.

Daphne.

’Can you identify them now?’

A pause.

[Yes.]

There it was.

[Fragment resonance confirmed from Elizabeth Aurelius.]

My gaze settled on the princess.

[Fragment resonance confirmed from James Vellaroux.]

Class Two.

[Fragment resonance confirmed from Sophie Trohan.]

Class Three.

[Fragment resonance confirmed from Daphne Spinster.]

Class Four.

Silence.

I looked at all four.

So that was it.

No probability.

No almost.

No coincidence.

The other four SSS students were the four remaining vessels.

’All four?’

[Confirmed.]

I leaned back slightly.

That should have felt more dramatic.

I’d spent years wondering who they were.

Now they were sitting within the same hall.

A princess.

A Duke’s son.

Two adopted daughters of Dukes.

None of them knew what they carried.

None of them knew they were connected to me.

None of them knew that somewhere inside their bodies rested a fragment of the Akashic Key.

And my Main Quest wanted me to establish bonds with all of them.

I sighed internally.

’Can the Quest be changed to "avoid hostility"?’

[No.]

’Mutual recognition?’

[No.]

’Occasional polite greeting?’

[No.]

[Establish bonds.]

’Terrible wording.’

The System ignored me.

Penelope looked over.

"Why are you staring at the other classes?"

I looked at her.

"Research."

"Research?"

"Leadership."

She stared.

I maintained a serious expression.

Her eyes narrowed.

"You’ve been leader for less than a day."

"I improve quickly."

"You’re lying."

"Probably."

She turned forward again.

Good.

I looked toward the other four one last time.

Confirmed.

One problem solved.

Four more social problems created.

Excellent.

Eventually, conversations faded.