Divine Milking System-Chapter 68 | The Demilitarized Zone

Tsukishima called time at 9:42, her voice cutting through the clash of practice weapons and the electronic beeping of training dummies. I was in the middle of my sixteenth spear thrust when she announced that weapons training was over and we should rack our equipment before heading to Building A for next period.

My arms felt like wet noodles. The spear had seemed manageable for the first ten minutes, then progressively heavier until it became a metal rod I happened to be holding instead of an actual weapon I could control.

"Good form on those last few," Tsukishima said as she passed me on her way to the equipment racks. "You’re thinking too much though. Your body knows what to do. Let it."

Easy for the S-rank mass manipulation goddess to say. Her body probably did whatever she wanted without consulting her brain first.

I racked the spear alongside the others and wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. Across the annex, Naomi was laughing at something Belle said while they put away their staff and crossbow respectively. Belle had apparently annexed Naomi for the walk to our next class, which left me without my usual companion.

Jordan appeared at my shoulder, looking like he’d just survived a natural disaster. His uniform was rumpled beyond redemption, and his dark hair stuck to his forehead in damp clumps.

"I hate this school," he announced to no one in particular. "I hate weapons. I hate mornings."

"At least she didn’t make us do burpees," I pointed out.

Jordan gave me a look that communicated his deep and abiding exhaustion with existence in general. "Next class is Dungeon Ecology with Cross and Sapphire. I’m sitting in the back."

"Bold strategy."

"I’m also sleeping."

"Even bolder."

We filed out of the annex with the rest of Obsidian, joining the general migration toward Building A. The California morning had turned warm, the kind of pleasant heat that made you forget winter existed as a concept. Students moved in clusters according to house and social hierarchy, the usual formations reasserting themselves now that class structure no longer forced proximity.

I spotted Belle and Naomi ahead, Belle’s blue hair impossible to miss in the crowd. Naomi glanced back once, caught my eye, and smiled before Belle said something that reclaimed her attention entirely.

Interesting. Belle was consolidating her position with Naomi, probably gathering intelligence while building rapport. Smart move. Belle didn’t waste time on people unless she saw value, and Naomi’s Silver-tier essence plus genuine kindness made her a solid long-term investment.

"Jace, right?"

I turned and found myself looking at Javier Mendoza, the actual protagonist of this world, standing two feet away with a nervous smile and entirely too much earnest energy radiating from his expressive brown eyes.

Oh good. The universe had a sense of humor.

"Yeah," I said. "Javier, right? We’re both in Obsidian."

"Right! I mean, yes, we are." He fell into step beside me and Jordan as we crossed the lawn. "I saw you at weapons training. You’re using a spear?"

"Trying to," I corrected. "Mostly just holding a metal stick and hoping for the best."

Javier laughed. "I know what you mean. I went with daggers because they seemed simple, but Tsukishima spent ten minutes explaining why daggers are actually the hardest weapon to master."

"She has opinions," Jordan muttered from my other side.

"She’s an S-rank," Javier said with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious figures. "Of course she has opinions. Did you see her move during the demonstration? She made it look effortless."

Jordan made a noncommittal sound that could have meant anything from agreement to impending unconsciousness.

We reached Building A and climbed the stairs to the second floor lecture hall where Dungeon Ecology met. The room was already half-full, Sapphire students clustering on their side while Obsidian claimed the left. The division wasn’t absolute anymore, a few students sitting closer to the center in what might charitably be called a demilitarized zone.

Belle and Naomi had claimed seats in the middle row on the Obsidian side. Belle waved when she spotted me, then deliberately turned back to her conversation with Naomi, the message clear. I was being friend-zoned for strategic purposes.

Fine by me. Gave me space to work other angles.

"Want to sit together?" Javier asked, gesturing toward three empty seats near the back corner. "I usually sit with my squad, but they’re not in this section."

Jordan had already started drifting toward the seats without waiting for confirmation. I followed, Javier bouncing along beside me with the kind of energy that suggested he’d had actual breakfast instead of half an apple stolen from a common room bowl.

We settled into the chairs. Jordan immediately put his head down on the fold-out desk. Javier pulled out an actual notebook, the physical paper kind, and three different colored pens.

"You take notes?" I asked, mildly horrified.

"Of course! Dr. Cross is brilliant. Her lectures on mana density effects on monster mutation are legendary on Newtube." Javier’s eyes went distant with academic ecstasy. On one video she explained how gate stabilization works at the molecular level. It was beautiful."

I stared at him. This was the protagonist? The guy who was supposed to seduce half the academy and become the strongest hunter of his generation? He was having religious experiences about molecular biology?

"You’re very enthusiastic about school," I said carefully.

"I’m here on scholarship," Javier explained, his expression turning serious. "I have to make it count. My family, they’re, well, they’re counting on me to succeed."

"That’s a lot of pressure," I said.

"It is." Javier’s smile turned a bit wistful. "But I want to make them proud. My siblings, especially. They need to see that hard work matters, that you can make something of yourself even if you start from nothing."

Jordan lifted his head slightly. "Your family poor?"

"We get by," Javier said, the diplomatic answer of someone who’d had this conversation before. "My dad’s a mechanic. Mom teaches elementary school. Three younger siblings. We’re not struggling, but hunter money would change everything."

The door opened and Dr. Vivienne Cross walked in, and every coherent thought in the lecture hall evaporated simultaneously.

Sweet mother of god.