Classroom of The Elite x AOT: Wax Wings

Vol 1.2 - Practice Makes Perfect

Dominating the center of Shiganshina District stood a large castle-like structure, called by locals as the military HQ. A handful of individuals, roughly 36 in number, seemed to occupy its walls. If I were to discern the secrets hidden within, a covert infiltration might be in order. Information, schematics and...muskets lay in abundance, though their appeal waned in my eyes.

4 shots in one minute at best.

As I surveyed the surroundings, a mother and her enthusiastic son distracted me for a moment. The little boy marvelled at the ODM gear worn by the passing soldiers who were grumbling about my recent misdoings. They still couldn't catch me.

A century of peace. With no war or inner conflict recorded. Either the politicians were masterfully educated to avoid such conflicts or someone is lying.

"Look, look Mommy! Isn't their ODM gear so cool?!"

"It sure is. Come on now, we don't want to leave Daddy behind, do we? Let's head back."

"Kay'!"

Their voices faded into the bustling crowd, blissfully unaware of my watchful eyes. Days turned into nights, and I spent a significant portion of the week covertly studying this place. Clothing and food weren't pressing issues, my nimble fingers securing necessities undetected. The absence of omnipresent cameras was a welcome relief.

Surprisingly, finding shelter proved to be a straightforward task. Abandoned or shuttered houses, particularly on the city's outskirts, offered ample shelter. Stringing up a makeshift hammock, and securing foundations, I could enjoy a peaceful slumber.

Shiganshina District seemed to be the opposite of the housing crisis plaguing modern times. Thousands more could find accommodation, fueling my theory that this was an undesirable, vulnerable location.

Backtracking a bit...

ODM gear piqued my interest. The grapple system, triggered by controls on the equipment's sides, hinted at a propulsion mechanism using compressed air canisters.

Odd, I thought.

Compressed air propels forward for a limited time before depletion. Was there a type of condensed gas they used for ODM gear? Given the supernatural situation I'm in, that is in the realm of possibilities.

Balance, I also surmised, played a pivotal role in mastering the ODM gear. Secure practice grounds and storage would be essential if I ever acquired a set. I had one in mind, but needed to adequately prepare beforehand.

And then there was the matter of a horse. I still needed one.

"It's so scratchy..." I grumbled.

Assimilating into the era proved effortless, but the discomfort and the threat of lice in my hair cast a shadow. There was also the fact that the clothing was less than comfortable. Also, the pervasive stench of the early 1800s permeated everything. It was as if Victorian London was on steroids.

I think I just stepped in some horse dung...

Repulsion surged within me. The lack of a proper sewer system and waste disposal turned the surroundings into a cesspool. It was becoming unbearable.

I never knew I had a preference for keeping things tidy and clean—but now I do. I miss modern waste management systems.

"I'm getting out of here..."

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