John should’ve taken Monday off, too.

The bus was likely closing in just as John slipped on the last bit of his magical gear. He looked at his reflection: an absurd divide of style now existed in his gear, with a dapper torso and arms flanked by a circlet from a Renaissance Fair and pants and sandals seemingly borrowed from a confused hobo. Alright, John, just like we practiced... Closing his eyes, John envisioned his school uniform... and clicked the heels of his sandals together.

Disguise Self: John Newman wearing an Ashcroft Academy school uniform, crisp and polished, with none of your actual gear showing.

He opened his eyes to see a properly uniformed John Newman, the new Newman, staring back at him. He widened the ironed collar and confirmed his necklace was gone. His rings, tattooed and actual, were hidden under this new illusion. He tugged on the edges of his clothes and found they all felt real, tangible... and frankly, in better condition than he had ever kept them.“Perfect.”

Achievement unlocked! “Glam”!
Used illusions to change your appearance three times. Don’t let the clothes wear you!
+2 CHA
+outfit UI enabled

A window opened with what appeared to be a scrolling list of slots, three of which were filled in: one with his naked body (and a tasteful censor bar over his crotch), one with a still of his gear as it truly was, and another as he now appeared with the word “GLAMOUR” in bold and red underneath it. Oh man, I thought I'd never get something like this: quick-equip, just like they added in the Globe of Fightcraft expansion, Scalding Brigade! With too much eagerness, John pressed the naked button and was promptly robbed of his illusion as his inventory ticked up. So it stashes it with everything else I'm carrying... A cooldown meter appeared and, in six seconds, was finished. With another tap, the equipment appeared anew and promptly vanished into the disguise self illusion; John’s mana ticking down to reflect the spell from the slippers being cast again. Pretty handy! Seems like I should’ve had this awhile ago, but I guess I was never big on illusions. John blinked at his reflection... Wait, should I even be seeing this illusion? I thought I was immune...

“Must be an exception,” he hastily concluded before cautiously blinking to the stairwell. From there, his morning ritual was positively pedestrian: an exchange of smiles and pleasantries with his mother who, as he ate, watched him carefully. Her thin sleeping robe was unbelted and parted slightly, and her arousal status had become a constant, but John did his best to pay it no mind; Moira had yet to cure his mother, as far as John knew, and he wasn't confident enough in restore to try it himself without explanation. As he ate, he poked at his equipment list to review all the new spells he could now cast while fully-equipped at school.

Disguise Self, Level 20, 300mp: change your appearance to that of another creature of similar size and species. Trappings worn when the spell is cast may also be altered in appearance, but they must be of comparable mass or dimensions. The bounds of this illusion are widened with every level. The spell lasts until it is cancelled or cast again.

Invisibility, Level 15, 40mp: makes caster, a target, or an object invisible to plain sight. Lasts for [skill lvl] minutes and cannot be cast on more than one target. No longer breaks on action. Negates displacement effects unless enemy can detect the invisible subject’s location.

Faerie Fire, Level 10, 20mp: summon [skill lvl / 3, rounded down] colorful lights that bob and giggle as they home in on the desired target or targets. They illuminate only themselves and the target, negating any effects that would hide the target visually, revealing only them in complete darkness, and improving the accuracy of attacks leveled at them. The lights dim and die out at a rate of one per minute in whatever order the caster chooses.

Moonbeam, Level 3, 80mp: blast an enemy with the light of the full moon, calling a beam of white light from on high to deal [1d6 x skill level] radiant damage on them. This spell does triple damage under a full moon and no damage under the direct light of the sun.

John rarely had reason to wear the necklace, particularly after learning of its meager effects. No reason not to wear it now, though! With a chuckle, he arrived at the corner of his neighborhood just as the massive ride to school swerved into view and mounted it with a huge grin-

... until he remembered who it was that shared this bus. His eyes scanned the seats and found two parties boring holes through him: Vanessa, on the usual right-hand seat in the back, and Frank only one seat from the front on the opposing side. Whatever had transpired before John arrived had ended in the most visible divorce between the two; the bus was unnaturally quiet, suggesting whatever happened was loud. The bus lurched, and Frank rose.

Not today. Not here. “Sit down,” John commanded.

The rising football star flinched; no matter the excuses he consciously made for him being punched into unconsciousness from a single blow, his body remembered. The bus rose to a murmur. Peer pressure, however atmospheric it was, moved a shamed and furious Frank beyond reason. His arm shot back, intent on crushing the face before him.

What the- right here in the open, on the bus-?! John snaked under the lumbering haymaker blow and past Frank’s body. Frank nearly spun to face Newman’s path as his fist bashed into the iron rod next to the driver, the latter sputtering in surprise.

“Siddown!” the old woman screeched as John quickly moved down the bus’s length. Frank, admonished and humiliated, still hadn’t snapped out of his rage. The old driver took a corner... hard. The bus full of teens squealed while Frank was launched into his chair... and John continued his quick pace, undisturbed until someone’s hand shot out and grabbed the hem of his blazer.

Without looking at her, he already knew it was the Hawthorne. He stood by her chair, continuing to ignore her as he tried to keep from contemplating what the scene must’ve looked like to the recovering, groaning teens nearly thrown from their chairs a moment ago: Vanessa Hawthorne, millionaire daughter and sexy cheerleader, grabbing onto his jacket in some ****, pitiful motion. The Gamer took a moment to remember the maids he saved... and the maids he didn’t save, because there must’ve been more.

With his heart hardened, he looked down at Hawthorne... and found glittering, **** eyes. Her mouth opened to form words, a plea he guessed... but the fury in his gaze, magnified by his charisma, sealed her mouth.

Good... Whatever she was going to ask, he had to assume it would only mean more ill for him.

Her mind screamed as she found herself unable to speak. No, please! No one normal can help... John, please I- His jacket slipped from her fingers. Her ego cracked under the realization of what she wanted... what she was ready to beg him for. Please... save me!

He took his seat in silence. She did not pursue him further.

By the time the bus arrived at Ashcroft, everyone involved in the scene those three had caused was eager to leave. Frank, realizing he had to go about getting ****—no, setting the record straight—more carefully, stomped to his next class to plan it out. Vanessa, stuck in her chair for fear of the monster that lurked in the school, found she couldn’t move to intercept John as he quickly passed her by without so much as a glance. Only the furious yells of the bus driver, who cared not how rich the brats she drove were, finally had the Hawthorne ejected into the campus... and there, as she stepped onto the sidewalk among the throng of students, Vanessa caught sight of John’s back. She followed his head with ease... right up until, as he passed the threshold of the Academy’s main entrance, a janitor wandered out and passed Newman without a glance.

Gerald stepped out to look over the kids... and caught sight of his prized new toy. His half-lidded gaze peeled the layers off of the Hawthorne girl even from here; she looked down and marched off, preferring to be late if it meant using another entrance. The old janitor saw her direction and figured she’d try and cut through the gym. With a perverted chuckle, he went to cut her off. She’d be plenty late to her first class.

Inside, meanwhile, John had all of five minutes to get to Mrs. Flung's class. Despite cult of personality remaining turned off, he continued to turn heads even as he tried to quietly hustle past people; between his inhuman charisma and the glamoured, perfect appearance he crafted, it seemed impossible to avoid attention now... well, from most. The odd football player in the hall avoided his gaze; none had snitched the reason for their **** state the week before, and none were as convinced as Frank of the “accident” of their defeat. John's eyes, ever improved by his growing power, cut through the crowd to try and catch glimpses of familiar faces: the cheerleader who announced Vanessa's alleged relationship with him, the Russian powerhouse who seemed keen to bed him, Kim Moon, another football-

John tried to catch another glimpse of the mysterious Korean girl, but she had already vanished into the stairwell at the other end of the hall. Damn! I should really try to talk to her before she leaves today... He had plenty of questions for her, and at least one apology-thanks combo to land, but the clock on John's interface blinked as if to remind him of how close he was to being late. He found the door held ajar by a chair and quickly swooped in, expecting the wrinkled old Literature teacher he had come to slowly disregard... but found only a room of confused students. A few turned to meet his eyes, and a few of the women (and one of the gents) gave him a second glance as he moved towards his seat, but otherwise they all seemed intent on gossiping about what might be the first time, ever, that Mrs. Flung was not only not already in the class before any student could manage to arrive... but might even be late.

Scandalous. John glanced out the window... and his lips curled into a tiny smile as the quaint nature of his old life saddled up next to his current one.

DAILY QUEST!

John no longer leaped to engage the interface; that it would dare another stunt after Friday made him feel just a bit insulted. Still... I'd be an idiot to not read it...

DAILY QUEST: "I'm Hot for Teacher!"
Have sex with 50 "points" of Academy faculty or staff before midnight! The faculty are scored based on the highest category they fit into from the following:
Assistant Principal: +50
Head of Department: +40
Tenured: +30
Adjunct: +20
Other Staff: +10
The following score modifiers stack before applying to the point value, though each only applies once per partner:
Make Her Come: x2
Come Inside Her: x3
Knock Her Up: x4
Brand or Marry Her: x5
BONUS QUEST: Every 50 points earned beyond the first will add an additional set of the same rewards!

Fucking- are you kidding me?! As if I needed any problems like these in my life! You can bet your ass that I'm not-

REWARD: 10,000XP, +1 stat points, +1 skill levels, +1 summon levels, +$50,000, +2 random rare magical ingredients, +1 random minor magical item.

... that's... I mean... that's not...

Quietly, carefully, John read the terms of the quest again.

The minute arm of the classroom clock slowly left the "59" mark, threatening to ring the bell on this teacher-less classroom... until, with the thunder of a door slammed open, a small woman entered the fray.

Her long black hair, kept up in a loose bun, was curly wherever it managed to escape her attempts to tame it. Her ears, now perfectly human and cute, barely poked out from this mess of black, and her huge golden irises scanned the room through slits narrowed as she flashed a massive, thick-lipped grin at her "students," and her voluptuous body, tiny and thick in only the best places, quickly earned the slack-jawed leering of the men. She wore her business suit almost skin-tight, fitting comfortably over her heavily enchanted form. Their pitiful stares tempted her to imagine toying with them, one by one, until the whole room was naught but simpering ****-boys and sacrificial harlots for her magical works... but no.

Juniluny could only pluck one of these delectable fruits.

Her roster had no photos; the school office had no pictures. That pillar of shadow, whose blessing she had, didn't bother to leave her anything to help in identifying John, and she wasn't particularly good with scrying spells... but she didn't need to be. Some humans had "mana," that energy of the soul expressed as excess that can be worked into magic; most never learned how to use it, but the mana factories that dotted the Earth and the Abyss were happy to use any of them. For that sake, or perhaps from exposure to magic for all of her life, Juniluny could sense, ever so faintly, the tiny echoes of mana coming from those blessed few.

But here, she was awash in the towering tsunami of the boy in the first column of the fourth row. John Newman may as well have screamed his name. That power... THAT POWER! But not chaotic or wasteful, no... hoo hoo hoo, but ordered, stacked, honed! This is no runt novice... but that just makes it even better! My Golden Opportunity is here! To think such a refined gem lies here in the dirt, waiting for me to pluck and polish it! Hoo hoo hoo! Juni's grin grew genuine, and the attentive students suddenly found themselves unsettled. The trap is set... and the prize is better than anything I could've hoped for! The old moron can have the Gorbachev... this creature, this beast will take me all the way to the top once I've got the leash on him, and best of all... cakes and coins aplenty, best of all... Juniluny drooled, but only a little bit.