CHAPTER 7 - DYNAMITE DIARRHEA
LYSANDER FARADEISS
The peaceful ambiance of Tasty Town was a welcome sight. This country town, with a population of fifty thousand, was home to both humans and dragonoids living in harmony. Nestled far from the clutches of harmful mana pollution and political turmoil in the Alterran Capital, this rural haven thrived independently. It boasted essential amenities like a school, a hospital, and even a mall.
I savored the familiar surroundings of my beloved birthplace as I peered out of the bus window. It had been years since I had seen such serene beauty in the environment. I couldn't help but remember the last time I had gazed upon this city. In the previous timeline, instead of a thriving village, all I had witnessed was a massive crater surrounded by debris. That was the future I aimed to prevent.
In this serene era, dragonoids and humans coexist peacefully, a stark contrast to the turbulent timeline that preceded it. Harmony reigns, except for sporadic incidents of small-scale terrorism in a neighboring nation, which have been widely disseminated through social media and news outlets. Amid this tranquility, discerning between humans and dragonoids has become a challenge. The only discernible trait that betrays someone's true identity as a dragonoid is the presence of crimson eyes.
The bus came to a stop in front of our Magic High School, the largest compound in Tasty Town, consisting of six sprawling buildings and two gymnasiums. This school was just as I remembered it, a constant amidst the changing tides of time.
I navigated the familiar pathways and corridors of the high school as if the layout were etched into my very being. Nostalgia coursed through me as I reached the classroom and took my seat, positioned at the center of the rows and columns.
"Yow, Lysander!" a cheerful blonde man with an infectious, wide smile greeted me, waving his hand. My eyes welled up with emotion as I recognized this dear old friend.
"Arthur," I replied with a smile, waving back and placing my bag on my desk.
Arthur rested his elbow on my shoulder and grinned. "So, how's your tummy?"
"Tummy what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"Come on, don't pretend that the last field trip didn't happen! I heard the news!"
"What news?" I tilted my head, wondering what he was talking about.
Confusion settled over me as I scanned the classroom and observed my classmates. Some girls were chuckling as I met their gaze, while a few boys shook their heads, appearing somewhat disappointed.
"What's going on?" I asked, bewildered by the reactions.
"Stop playing dumb!" Arthur laughed and leaned in to whisper to me. "I know you had a literal shitty incident during our field trip. Cyprus spilled the beans."
"I... what!?" I stammered, utterly taken aback by the revelation.
A sudden rush of memories flooded my mind like a bolt of lightning. I recalled it vividly now – that ill-fated field trip ten years ago when I had suffered from a bout of loose bowel movement and ended up soiling the bus. The memory was etched in my mind, and I cringed at the recollection. The stench had tormented my high school peers for the entire five-hour journey.
I snapped back to the present, realizing the gravity of the situation. It just so happened that I had regressed through time a day after that mortifying field trip. Now I had to relive the shame and embarrassment of my high school scandal for the second time.
"So, what can you say, mister poopy butthole?" Arthur teased, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Shut up. It’s not my fault. Mary gave me a spoiled sandwich. My metabolism is lightning fast, so I couldn't help it," I grumbled in defense.
"Ohoho! Now you're shifting the blame to someone else!" Arthur continued to smirk.
"It's the truth!" I protested. "Go ask Mary about it!"
"Fine, fine, I believe you, Mr. Dynamite Diarrhea," Arthur relented, still grinning. "I heard the student council had a hard time cleaning and disinfecting the bus after that. Vice Prez Hiraya even looked after you."
I lowered my head in embarrassment and sighed. "Please, stop bringing up those memories!"
A surge of different memories rushed back as Arthur mentioned the name Hiraya. I recalled Hiraya Misteltein, who was a member of our high school's student council and held the position of vice president.
I glanced out of the window, my mind working furiously. The reason I had specifically regressed ten years was that I knew I had a chance to reach Hiraya at this particular point in time. During this age, high school students were not yet capable of mastering military-grade magic, which meant that Hiraya would be at her most vulnerable.
"Hey, Arthur. You're a part of the Student Council, right?" I inquired.
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
"I need to meet with Hiraya Misteltein," I stated matter-of-factly. "Do you guys have a meeting scheduled after class?"
"Yeah," Arthur confirmed. "The meeting's during lunchtime."
"Great. I'll come along," I replied.
But Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait. You're not planning to confess, are you? I mean, yeah, she took care of you, but not because she is romantically interested in you. Hiraya might be a campus sweetheart, but everyone knows, especially us graduating students, that she never takes any lovers! She's too tomboyish to be won over by guys like us!"
I waved off his concerns. "Dude, chill. I just want to thank her for what she did for me last Saturday."
Confess to Hiraya? In the previous timeline, I might have considered it. But now, my mission took precedence. I had to eliminate her within my first week in this timeline, and the sooner, the better.
As the bell marked the end of the morning classes and the beginning of lunch, I decided to play it safe and grabbed a hotdog and a yogurt drink for takeout, just in case anything went awry during my mission. With lunch in hand, I followed Arthur to the student council room.
Upon entering, we were greeted by our school president, Gregory, who bore a striking resemblance to a teenage Jesus with his long hair and beard.
"Good afternoon, Arthur," Gregory acknowledged.
"Good afternoon, Prez!" Arthur replied. "This is Lysander. My friend here wants to talk to Vice Prez."
Gregory nodded and directed me, "She's in the archive room."
Arthur whispered, "Go get her, tiger. Tell me about the story of your confession later!"
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "I already told you, I'm not here to confess."
"Ha! Good luck!" Arthur laughed and playfully pushed me toward the door.
I took a deep breath before grasping the doorknob and pushing it open. Stepping into the room, I found myself surrounded by shelves lined with books and folders. My eyes soon settled on her.
In the heart of the archive room, a beautiful elven woman lay asleep on the table. The soft light from the window played across her golden hair and fair skin, casting her in an ethereal glow. Her delicate fingers were wrapped around a book titled "History of Exceria." She slept soundly, like a contented kitten.
"What an adorable way to die," I mumbled to myself.
I raised my hand, conjuring a basketball-sized fireball, more than capable of reducing her to ashes.
CHAPTER 7 - DYNAMITE DIARRHEA
LYSANDER FARADEISS
The peaceful ambiance of Tasty Town was a welcome sight. This country town, with a population of fifty thousand, was home to both humans and dragonoids living in harmony. Nestled far from the clutches of harmful mana pollution and political turmoil in the Alterran Capital, this rural haven thrived independently. It boasted essential amenities like a school, a hospital, and even a mall.
I savored the familiar surroundings of my beloved birthplace as I peered out of the bus window. It had been years since I had seen such serene beauty in the environment. I couldn't help but remember the last time I had gazed upon this city. In the previous timeline, instead of a thriving village, all I had witnessed was a massive crater surrounded by debris. That was the future I aimed to prevent.
In this serene era, dragonoids and humans coexist peacefully, a stark contrast to the turbulent timeline that preceded it. Harmony reigns, except for sporadic incidents of small-scale terrorism in a neighboring nation, which have been widely disseminated through social media and news outlets. Amid this tranquility, discerning between humans and dragonoids has become a challenge. The only discernible trait that betrays someone's true identity as a dragonoid is the presence of crimson eyes.
The bus came to a stop in front of our Magic High School, the largest compound in Tasty Town, consisting of six sprawling buildings and two gymnasiums. This school was just as I remembered it, a constant amidst the changing tides of time.
I navigated the familiar pathways and corridors of the high school as if the layout were etched into my very being. Nostalgia coursed through me as I reached the classroom and took my seat, positioned at the center of the rows and columns.
"Yow, Lysander!" a cheerful blonde man with an infectious, wide smile greeted me, waving his hand. My eyes welled up with emotion as I recognized this dear old friend.
"Arthur," I replied with a smile, waving back and placing my bag on my desk.
Arthur rested his elbow on my shoulder and grinned. "So, how's your tummy?"
"Tummy what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.
"Come on, don't pretend that the last field trip didn't happen! I heard the news!"
"What news?" I tilted my head, wondering what he was talking about.
Confusion settled over me as I scanned the classroom and observed my classmates. Some girls were chuckling as I met their gaze, while a few boys shook their heads, appearing somewhat disappointed.
"What's going on?" I asked, bewildered by the reactions.
"Stop playing dumb!" Arthur laughed and leaned in to whisper to me. "I know you had a literal shitty incident during our field trip. Cyprus spilled the beans."
"I... what!?" I stammered, utterly taken aback by the revelation.
A sudden rush of memories flooded my mind like a bolt of lightning. I recalled it vividly now – that ill-fated field trip ten years ago when I had suffered from a bout of loose bowel movement and ended up soiling the bus. The memory was etched in my mind, and I cringed at the recollection. The stench had tormented my high school peers for the entire five-hour journey.
I snapped back to the present, realizing the gravity of the situation. It just so happened that I had regressed through time a day after that mortifying field trip. Now I had to relive the shame and embarrassment of my high school scandal for the second time.
"So, what can you say, mister poopy butthole?" Arthur teased, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Shut up. It’s not my fault. Mary gave me a spoiled sandwich. My metabolism is lightning fast, so I couldn't help it," I grumbled in defense.
"Ohoho! Now you're shifting the blame to someone else!" Arthur continued to smirk.
"It's the truth!" I protested. "Go ask Mary about it!"
"Fine, fine, I believe you, Mr. Dynamite Diarrhea," Arthur relented, still grinning. "I heard the student council had a hard time cleaning and disinfecting the bus after that. Vice Prez Hiraya even looked after you."
I lowered my head in embarrassment and sighed. "Please, stop bringing up those memories!"
A surge of different memories rushed back as Arthur mentioned the name Hiraya. I recalled Hiraya Misteltein, who was a member of our high school's student council and held the position of vice president.
I glanced out of the window, my mind working furiously. The reason I had specifically regressed ten years was that I knew I had a chance to reach Hiraya at this particular point in time. During this age, high school students were not yet capable of mastering military-grade magic, which meant that Hiraya would be at her most vulnerable.
"Hey, Arthur. You're a part of the Student Council, right?" I inquired.
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
"I need to meet with Hiraya Misteltein," I stated matter-of-factly. "Do you guys have a meeting scheduled after class?"
"Yeah," Arthur confirmed. "The meeting's during lunchtime."
"Great. I'll come along," I replied.
But Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, wait, wait. You're not planning to confess, are you? I mean, yeah, she took care of you, but not because she is romantically interested in you. Hiraya might be a campus sweetheart, but everyone knows, especially us graduating students, that she never takes any lovers! She's too tomboyish to be won over by guys like us!"
I waved off his concerns. "Dude, chill. I just want to thank her for what she did for me last Saturday."
Confess to Hiraya? In the previous timeline, I might have considered it. But now, my mission took precedence. I had to eliminate her within my first week in this timeline, and the sooner, the better.
As the bell marked the end of the morning classes and the beginning of lunch, I decided to play it safe and grabbed a hotdog and a yogurt drink for takeout, just in case anything went awry during my mission. With lunch in hand, I followed Arthur to the student council room.
Upon entering, we were greeted by our school president, Gregory, who bore a striking resemblance to a teenage Jesus with his long hair and beard.
"Good afternoon, Arthur," Gregory acknowledged.
"Good afternoon, Prez!" Arthur replied. "This is Lysander. My friend here wants to talk to Vice Prez."
Gregory nodded and directed me, "She's in the archive room."
Arthur whispered, "Go get her, tiger. Tell me about the story of your confession later!"
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. "I already told you, I'm not here to confess."
"Ha! Good luck!" Arthur laughed and playfully pushed me toward the door.
I took a deep breath before grasping the doorknob and pushing it open. Stepping into the room, I found myself surrounded by shelves lined with books and folders. My eyes soon settled on her.
In the heart of the archive room, a beautiful elven woman lay asleep on the table. The soft light from the window played across her golden hair and fair skin, casting her in an ethereal glow. Her delicate fingers were wrapped around a book titled "History of Exceria." She slept soundly, like a contented kitten.
"What an adorable way to die," I mumbled to myself.
I raised my hand, conjuring a basketball-sized fireball, more than capable of reducing her to ashes.
