...

As the evening sun gradually withdrew for rest, bathing the obsidian-colored stone of the towering spire in hues of blue and red, casting an imposing shadow toward Alexander, who strode determinedly through it.

Students walking in the same direction parted like a wave before him—whispers fluttered behind him like leaves caught in a gentle breeze—accounts of transformation, a future rewritten by his hands, and possibilities unveiled barely any demand in return.

He could feel their gazes, reflecting awe and deep-seated gratitude, the silent acknowledgments of lives diverted from paths of misery, mired in theft, violence, or worse, leaving their future with the same outcome, with no fault on their own.

Alexander had lifted the oppressive weight of despair and destitution, replacing it with hope and opportunity. Now, they walked with heads held high, uniforms crisp, eyes alight with the spark of ambition.

After supporting them through charity and giving them hope for a better life, the grandeur of the school was the true testament to his vision, sending a resounding message: you are worthy of more than just survival.

Alexander hadn't simply built an institution but crafted a sanctuary where every student felt valued, as luxurious furnishings whispered of comfort and care, the memorable meals nourished more than just bodies, and the carefully tended gardens offered solace and inspiration, regardless of the shadows that had once darkened their pasts.

It was not for opulence's sake but to inspire. Marble floors echoed with footsteps toward greatness, stained glass windows that painted the halls with stories of heroes and scholars they could become, and gardens blooming with life as a symbol of growth and renewal.

Students lingered on ornate benches nestled among the greenery, their faces buried in the first book they ever received, his recollection of fairy tales, molding them morally into the people Alexander desired to see roaming the world.

Hidden nooks and alcoves became sanctuaries that lingered in every corner, igniting imaginations and stirring dreams, showing that there was a way to escape their fate forced upon them.

It wasn't merely a school but a declaration of a vision—perceived by many as ignorant or naive. Yet these touches were more than pragmatic symbols of deeper care. They showed the students that someone saw them, understood them, and believed in their potential.

For many who had never known parental love, Alexander's efforts filled a void they hadn't realized existed. Some students silently wept as he passed, bowing their heads in profound gratitude. Hopes and prayers intertwined in their hearts, all yearning for this sanctuary of learning to endure and flourish.

Because of that, many sought ways to elevate Alexander even more, offering him the respect they felt he deserved. Calling him Mr. Alexander wasn't enough, and Lord inappropriate.

A new nickname began circulating among the students, starting with the Elephant student body: 'The Lost Father,' which transformed into 'Papa Alexander' for the younger student bodies—endearing, given that most were orphans, and spoken with genuine respect and affection, seeing him as a guiding figure in their lives.

'Papa Alexander,' Alexander mused internally, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he thought about the upcoming mana skill ceremony.

'I was already bullied for being called Archmage Puppy, and now this? Well, who cares.' While he didn't want to acknowledge it, the moniker warmed something deep within him, a place he rarely acknowledged. It was strange, almost unsettling, to be seen in such a light—a protector or a mentor, sure, but a father figure? It was something novel.

Walking beside him was Anastasia, her presence as steady as ever. Her black hair caught the fading sunlight, and her bunny ears twitched subtly with each step. She was retelling the events of the day, her voice a calm river flowing over the chaos of recent happenings. Despite her composed facade, he sensed the undercurrents of exhaustion—dark circles under her eyes betrayed sleepless nights and the weight of responsibilities.

"Poisoned, huh?" he muttered under his breath after listening to the incident in the Bunny cafeteria, frustration gnawing at him like a persistent itch. The teachers had been negligent, failing to properly inform the Bunny student body about the body modifications he had arranged through the potions. The oversight had resulted in chaos on the very first day—a mess he hoped had no further consequences.

Reaching into his blazer's inner pocket, Alexander retrieved a sleek metallic case. With a practiced flick, he opened it and popped a black, candy-like sphere into his mouth—a bitter taste and numbing sensation spread across his body, "Are all of them at least alive?" he asked, his words slightly muffled as he chewed.

Anastasia glanced at him, her eyes slightly narrowing as she noticed his eyes becoming less sharp, but decided to continue, "Yes, thankfully. The servants reacted quickly and handled the situation as best they could. I still can't believe we overlooked something so crucial, but..."

She stopped when Alexander bit into the black sphere again, a mist of venomous gas escaping his mouth. She sighed, a mix of exasperation and concern coloring her tone. "Can you stop taking your self-made drugs? You're starting to resemble a failed pharmacist more than a noble."

He shrugged, unrepentant, "Trust me, this drug is the only thing keeping me sane right now," he replied, his speech slightly queer as the gummy ball numbed his tongue, "The past few months have been... challenging, to say the least, and I would appreciate if you let me have this."

Anastasia arched an eyebrow, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. "Always so dramatic, Alex. I've seen worse coping mechanisms, but perhaps you could find something less... lethal?" She took a deliberate half-step away, her nose slightly crinkling to ward off the faint, acrid mist emanating from his mouth.

Noticing her subtle retreat, Alexander sighed in annoyance but felt surprisingly reassured, knowing he wasn't the odd one out, thinking that such a habit was quite peculiar.

Alexander's parents never batted an eye at such habits, as indulging in various substances was, as he learned recently, necessary to calm their minds. While his abstinence seemed odd, it wasn't something they cared about as there were other more obvious problems.

His thoughts drifted to tea time at the estate, the air often thick with the rich fragrances of exotic brews or other substances. His siblings, even Janina, favored potent herbal teas that promised substantial effects—calming or invigorating.

But they also did more outside of those get-togethers, whether it was Lorient, who meditated in a room filled with aroma candles, calming her mind, Janina's serene smile as she sipped a particularly fragrant blend while painting, her eyes half-closed in contentment or his parent's private indulgence in concoctions so powerful they could kill Alexander immediately.

The irony wasn't lost on him as there was a time he also indulged in something similar, 'The talismans were pretty good, though,' he mused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. When he was heavily injured, the effect he experienced sometimes made him groggy for hours at a time, enjoying the high immensely and something that made him endure the crippling desperation at times of being unable to move.

Ultimately, Alexander didn't mind following the family's tradition, as it seemed appropriate given his circumstances. He smirked with a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Like what? Those herbal teas everyone swears by? They might as well be flavored water to me." To get any effect from them, he would need to drink gallons and let it brew until it became disgustingly bitter.

She shook her head softly, her bunny ears swaying with the motion. "You know, most people don't resort to poisoning themselves to unwind."

He let out a dry laugh. "Most people don't have my constitution. Nicotine, alcohol—none of it has any effect. Perks of a highly modified body and sky-high resistance skills. Even pure alcohol feels like drinking water." He paused, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the sun was just a sliver above the treeline. "These poisons are the only things that make a dent."

"Have you considered that might be a sign to take a different approach?" she suggested gently, her eyes searching his.

"Perhaps," he conceded, though his tone was noncommittal. A sly grin spread across his face. "Maybe I'll start sampling bunny kin blood. I hear it's quite invigorating."

Anastasia rolled her eyes, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Even if my blood had any relaxing properties and you drained me like a wet cloth, I doubt it would compare to that toxic ball of death you're so fond of." She chuckled softly, her concern evident despite the light-hearted banter.

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He met her gaze, the corners of his mouth softening. "You're probably right. Besides, who else but you would be able to manage the education for probably tens of millions in the future?"

"Someone has to," she replied with a mock sigh. "Otherwise, you'd spiral into madness—or worse, fashion faux pas."

He laughed genuinely at that, the sound echoing lightly around the campus. "Can't have that," Thoughts of him sometimes appearing in casual clothing before her, mostly riddled with holes or loose, showing too many scars, only for her to start teaching him how appearance was more important than the actual content of his words, "The horror of me actually showing some scars would surely be my downfall."

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, the bustle of the academy around them fading into the background. 'Quite the stressful months, I would say,' he enjoyed the relaxing stroll, contemplating the past months pressed on him like an invisible shroud.

Wrapping up open projects, planning a military operation, and coordinating with the Essence and Eros Alliance had been a logistical nightmare, which would result in a critical meeting in a month to finalize the division of the island they had been negotiating over.

'If not for this enhanced body, I would've collapsed a dozen times by now,' he thought wearily. The endless meetings, the constant problem-solving—it was relentless. While his projects were designed to be self-sustaining and managed by his trusted retainers, initial hurdles still required his attention.

He glanced around at the opulent surroundings of the school and couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and exasperation. 'What a colossal waste of gold,' he mused. What had started as a vision for an efficient, functional institution had blossomed into a grand establishment. Prestige mattered more than anticipated, especially if he wanted Wolfsteeth to become the primary hub for technology, science, and culture.

"Four hundred thousand large gold coins on a single school," he muttered. "Might as well fuck me in the ass and rename me Alexandria and be done with it."

Hearing his mumbling, Anastasia raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You created something even the royals from other kingdoms would find opulent, poached teachers of nobility and ensured that no student was above the other, so no petty squabbles could occur, forcing them to concentrate on studying." She tilted her head, studying him. "Give it time. Once the world acknowledges you, this institution of wonders will be flooded with requests to attend, giving you the power you need—even if you have some short-term pain over the coin."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "In the long term, perhaps. But in the short term, I'm practically bleeding gold."

"Think of it as an investment," she mimicked his voice in mockery. "How fucking stupid are those who fucking hoard their gold like some imbeciles," she laughed, stopping her mockery. "You went on countless tangents, giving actually great reasons why this ridiculously opulent school was necessary and now you regret it?"

He shot her a sidelong glance. "You are a tad too comfortable, I see?"

She chuckled. "All's fair in keeping you grounded, as I am still your teacher."

He couldn't help but smile. "Fair enough," knowing too well that he wanted everyone to challenge him.

'I got lucky. Otherwise, I really would be broke,' Alexander's mind drifted to the offers received to mass-print books, giving him a substantial financial boost.

After Alexander sent his fairy tale books to various households, replies came immediately, ignoring the overly ethical penning. The Lord of the Nine-Fire household, Peter, was the first to order ten thousand copies of his romance novel, the second edition—a smutty tale had been all the rage in aristocratic circles for a while now.

His printing technology and paper quality outpaced anything else available, and after a while, he received more requests—nobles, the Cathedral of Pestilence and other institutions, and the wealthy.

While most of the populace couldn't read, it didn't matter as long as those with status and wealth could. The orders, as such, were gifts, blatantly penned ideologies or propaganda to other individuals of similar standing.

Books were objects of prestige—beautiful white paper, strengthened over time with unique materials, and book covers made from monster or wild demon leather, which were even resistant to [Energy], became his most sought-after option—at least for the nobility who loved to pay ridiculous prices for that tad more prestige.

On the other hand, the Cathedral and other institutions would send him stacks of parchments weekly to get printed, primarily general educational material for the first years. Copying them by hand would cost fifty times as much as whatever Alexander had offered them for a much superior quality, and they eagerly accepted.

'Indeed, education is quite the endeavor,' Alexander mused self-mockingly, knowing that every piece of coin immediately vanished from his coffers for additional schools about to open in the following months and years.

Because of his desire to expand without pause, an expensive endeavor, he also renegotiated a new price for mana ink with Green when visiting the Temple, which had borne fruit. He'd managed to triple the price, which remained a bargain compared to market rates. In exchange, he agreed to allow ceremonies at the school and the construction of a temple for the religiously inclined, which came with the added bonus of receiving a greater blessing during their upcoming journey to the Noble Ball in a few years.

Despite the successes, there was still a void. 'I'd give anything to see Sarah more often,' he admitted silently, biting down on the candy again. The numbing effect spread, easing his tension.

His relationship with Sarah had evolved rapidly. What began as cautious interactions due to their familial situations had blossomed into genuine affection. He felt love—a word he hadn't associated with himself in a long time—even though he hadn't said it aloud, wanting to wait for the right moment during the mating season. 'She'll love that,' he pictured with a slight smile.

It would also be the only time they would have for themselves since her training demanded much. It was the first time he'd felt this way, and it both exhilarated and unsettled him. Even that short rendezvous they'd had on this day was an exception.

'Patricia, on the other hand, didn't take the news so well,' Alexander recalled with a grimace. Announcing his engagement had elicited strong reactions. Letters from Emma and Patricia arrived filled with emotion—confusion and mainly ramblings he may call mentally unstable.

'At least they will not be joining the upcoming military operation,' a wave of relief went through him, as there was already too much pressure weighing his mind down—he bit again, releasing the last bit of comforting numbness into his body.

His Mother's stunt of sending letters in his name to win their favor had worked—perhaps too well. 'Forty-two blood-sucking parasites,' he thought bitterly. 'Good job, Mother. Next time, you may not open up my asshole too wide for them.'

The Guard Household families and the Count had shown interest in the conflict, seeing it as an opportunity to earn military merit and prestige for their offspring, bringing their own resources as support. In exchange, they indirectly wanted Alexander to show a more lenient approach to writing their records—a task he cared little for and, if needed, would embellish.

It was a delicate dance of give and take, laden with unspoken implications. Nothing concrete was written down, but the tone of their letters made their intentions clear. They promised much if he would position them favorably.

Their eagerness was understandable. With other borders under truce or too dangerous due to seasoned soldiers with multiple body modifications, options for gaining experience for their offspring were limited. Joining Alexander's operation was their best chance to achieve something.

Now, he was responsible for leading over forty noble youths from more than thirty territories, not just from the East. The weight of their expectations pressed on him like an iron mantle. 'Just... damn it.'

His original plan was thrown out the window—conduct the operation with minimal fuss, perhaps embellish a few reports, use overwhelming force to achieve quick results, and then focus on reconstruction.

After receiving all those letters, he knew those nobles needed roles and tasks to fulfill, making his perfect plan crumble. 'I feel like a teacher on a class trip,' he thought grimly.

But what other choice did he have? He needed as much goodwill as possible, and he was forced to accept their resources to make it seem believable, especially since his parents had set limits on what he could use financially. 'Who cares about coins, really?' he thought dryly, considering the irony.

Alexander already had more than enough resources, beginning with the Camp and ending with his ingenuity in recreating horrific weapons of war. But now, he had to slow down so that youth could actually collect experience and not be done after a day.

In essence, merits required acknowledgment from others, which would be impossible if the operation ended after a week. As such, Alexander would need to stall as much as possible for them to actually do something worthwhile, hoping the other side wouldn't act stupid, like breaking common custom laws, e.g., killing messengers, as he would be forced to react more forcefully.

But once the enemy broke them, 'Burn, baby, burn,' his thoughts spiraled into numerous scenarios.

Anastasia's voice pulled him back to the present before his imagination took a dark turn. "What about Nina?"

He looked up to see a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I asked because there she is, dear student," she teased.

As they neared the mage tower, raised voices reached them. "Janina! You can't have her as a teacher! She's an unhonored whore—"

Alexander's eyebrow arched. With a subtle gesture, he cast a 3D spell, rendering them invisible and creating a vacuum dome to prevent sound or scent from giving them away.

"Was that necessary?" Anastasia whispered.

He nodded, surveying the scene unfolding before them. "I want to see how my sister handles this, and nobody can hear us," he smirked, "You know, vacuum and such."

"Always the observer," she sighed softly, ignoring his tease.

"Quiet. This is important," Alexander replied, his eyes fixed on Janina while he used a spell to listen to her conversation.

They watched as Janina faced off against three noble youths. Alexander studied his sister carefully. She was young—a puppy, really—but these moments would shape her growth. She needed to confront uncomfortable situations to mature.

Janina stood her ground, her posture straight and unwavering. The setting sun cast a halo around her, highlighting the determination etched on her face. The noble youths sneered, their entitled arrogance palpable.

'How intriguing,' he thought, a hint of pride mixing with curiosity. He wondered how she would navigate the confrontation and what choices she would make.

Anastasia leaned in slightly. "Place your bets?" she whispered playfully.

He smirked, his eyes never leaving Janina and making his spell global so Anastasia could listen too. "If she's anything like her siblings," his smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "they'll regret crossing her."

Anastasia chuckled quietly. "High stakes, then."

"Always," he murmured, his gaze intense.

As the tension in the courtyard thickened, Alexander felt a surge of anticipation. This was more than a mere sibling's concern—it was a test, a glimpse into the kind of person Janina would become.