As Riog had mentioned before, only a small number of nobles attended the Royal Academy to study. Most had been educated extensively by private tutors since childhood. Even of those who hadn’t, less than 10% showed any real passion for learning. Instead, the academy functioned more like a microcosm of high society – a place where families watched each other closely and formed factions.

As Riog pointed out, it was more of a social playground for the aristocracy, a battleground for influence. Those with a genuine interest in science often found the atmosphere stifling and opted for private academies. As a result, most of the students who remained were those who thrived on gossip and political alliances.

But even at the Royal Academy, there was one class that managed to keep the noble children alert and attentive.

“All monsters have tentacles,” the professor began, immediately capturing the attention of the noble children in the class. “Some sprouted from their backs, others from their heads. The locations varied, depending on the species.”

The noble students leaned forward, their eyes gleaming with fascination. The ecology lesson was one of the few that held their interest. It was probably because the subject were provocative, even bordering on scandalous, touching on subjects such as the strange physiology of monsters – and sometimes even their more… suggestive aspects.

“Tentacles are usually hidden inside the body until a fight occurs, at which point they extend to attack. However, some monsters walk around with their tentacles fully exposed all the time. The reason for this is still unclear in the academic world.” the professor explained, drawing the students’ attention. “The most widely accepted theory is that certain species are simply unable to retract them.”

‘No, that’s just a matter of personal preference,’ I thought. It’s probably like humans deciding whether to let their hair down or up. I looked back at Zetak, who stood silently behind me. To be honest, I had signed up for this class mainly because of him – after all, today’s lesson was about monsters.

“As your transformation progresses, you will also grow tentacles. Pay attention to the lesson.”

Even though I only mumbled the words, I was sure he understood them. I figured that if tentacles suddenly sprouted from his body one day, he’d panic. I tried to warn him, but he didn’t react at all. He just looked away calmly, as if unimpressed.

“Don’t tell me… you’re already prepared for that?”

‘Could it be that he already has tentacles? Maybe he’s hiding them inside his body,’ I wondered. Or maybe he just accepted the fact that he was becoming a monster, which explained his unnerving calm. I wanted to ask, but the Professor’s throat-clearing snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Your Highness, it seems my class isn’t engaging enough for you,” he said, his tone tinged with irritation. Although his words were aimed at me, the displeasure in his voice was directed at Zetak, who stood silently behind me. The professor was likely already unsettled by the presence of someone slowly transforming into a monster in his classroom, and my distraction gave him the perfect excuse to express his frustration.

“Since you seem so disinterested, perhaps you’re already an expert on the subject. Why don’t you take my place and tell the class about monster tentacles?”

He stepped aside and gestured for me to come forward and take the stage. The noble students, always hungry for entertainment, leaned forward with eager curiosity, their eyes fixed on me, waiting to see how I would respond to this unexpected challenge.

“Well, you share a bed with a monster, don’t you? Who better than His Highness to know all about them?” a noble boy murmured, his voice carrying just enough to be heard. Laughter spread through the room, the comment meant to sting, though it was framed as a whisper.

I stood up, reaching for the book to collect my thoughts, but the professor waved his hand dismissively. “Leave the book, you were distracted because you already knew the subject, weren’t you?”

The professor’s eyes glinted with mischief as if he was thoroughly enjoying this rare opportunity to treat royalty in such a manner. There was even a trace of satisfaction in his expression as if he were thinking, When else would I get the chance to do this?

Following his instructions, I left the book behind and stepped up to the stage, immediately drawing the attention of the noble students, all eyes now on me.

“Well then, I will share what I know about monsters. Everyone, get ready to take notes.”

Despite my words, not a single noble moved to pick up their pens. Instead, they stared at me with expressions that clearly said, Whatever you know, we know it too. Some even crossed their arms, showing their defiance as they openly disregarded me, their interest more in seeing me fail than in learning something new.

A broken prince, they thought. In their eyes, that’s all I was now – a fallen prince with a broken arm. They had already written me off and saw no reason to impress me, or even show me any respect.

Ignoring their silent judgment, I picked up a piece of chalk. Maybe I’ll start by drawing a monster. Art had never been my forte, and using my left arm made the task even more uncertain. Still, I pressed on, determined to convey what I could, even if my sketch would probably leave much to be desired.

After some thought, I decided to draw the creature from my past life. A long body with 160 legs, 12 tentacles, and a gaping mouth… Was it around here? My former form had been quite terrifying. Despite my worries about using my left arm, the drawing went better than I had expected. I counted and sketched each leg carefully, concentrating on every detail.

Then, from behind me, I began to hear strange noises – murmurs and whispers. The students, once so dismissive, seemed to be responding to what they saw taking shape on the blackboard.

“Heh… heh heh heh…”

“W-what the… pfft… hehe…”

“Why… is he drawing a… a paramecium…? Haha!”

.A paramecium. How rude to compare a simple paramecium to a centipede. I paused for a moment and looked at the creature I had drawn. Considering that I had used my left hand, I thought it had turned out quite well. Glancing to the side, I noticed the professor covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter. I understood now – they were laughing at me. But what did it matter? It wasn’t new; I’d been laughed at many times before.

As I kept drawing all 160 legs, the laughter behind me never stopped. They tried to hold it back, maybe out of some lingering respect for my status as a prince, but the occasional stifled snickers filled the room. It was clear they were relishing the rare opportunity to mock royalty. I finished by extending the 12 tentacles with long, sweeping strokes, then set the chalk down and turned to face them.

“Be sure to take careful notes on this drawing.”

“Pfft… hrrgh…”

“I-I can’t even copy that…”

Someone muffled their laughter by covering their mouth and pinching their thigh to keep control. Whether they were laughing at me or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that Zetak was listening carefully. He needed to understand the anatomy of the creature I was explaining. I kept my eyes on him, silently urging him to concentrate.

But for some reason, Zetak was biting his lip so hard that it almost bled, his fists clenched so tightly that they trembled. His shoulders trembled slightly as well. Was he laughing at me too?

Perhaps. Even if his feelings for me were slowly awakening, they were still nothing compared to the hatred he harbored. Perhaps, like the nobles, he found amusement in ridiculing me.

“Silence, everyone, I will now explain the tentacles, so pay close attention. Typically, tentacles transform for hunting or fighting. There are five basic types of tentacle transformations. Does anyone know what they are?”

Silence. I hadn’t expected an answer; they were never going to engage with my questions, let alone contribute to the lesson. The stifled laughter continued from a few who couldn’t quite control themselves.

“Your Highness, there are not five forms of tentacle transformation, but three. It seems you are mistaken,” the professor interjected, his eyes gleaming as if he had just caught me in a trap.

I raised my hand to stop him from getting any closer and continued as if he hadn’t interrupted.

“One form is the blade type, used when battles are protracted. It’s usually used to slice through an opponent’s body or cut off limbs, including your own if they’ve become unusable. The second is the spear, which is designed to deliver a quick blow to vital organs. This method is often used when the enemy is weak, during ambushes, or when hunting. So far, this information is widely known.”

I paused, letting the silence settle before I continued, “But what I’m about to tell you is something few have ever heard. So those who are truly interested should listen carefully.”

I looked around at the nobles, their smiles fading slightly before my gaze settled on Zetak. Everything I’d just explained could easily be found in books. What came next, however, would be different. From that point on, I would share knowledge from my own experience – things they would never encounter in the human world.

“The third form is the hook type, it’s mainly used to rip off an opponent’s armor. Many monsters are either covered in hard armor or have exoskeletons, which means you have to remove that protective layer to attack their vital points. If you manage to rip off their armor, you’ll have won about 80% of the battle. But it is no easy task.

I paused for a moment to let the gravity of my words sink in before adding, “For this reason, few monsters start a fight in hook form. They usually alternate with the Blade form, and only after breaking through their opponent’s defenses do they switch to the Hook form to finish the job.”

Eventually, the laughter had stopped. The expressions on the faces of the nobles had changed, curiosity now replacing amusement. Probably because they had heard something completely new. Blade and spear forms were known in the human world, but nothing beyond that had ever been recorded. The reason was simple: no monster that had entered the human world had ever needed to transform its tentacles into hooks. A single swing of a tentacle was enough to split a human body in half. There had never been a need for anything more.

“The fourth form is the net type, in this form the tentacles spread out like a cloth, forming a net with small holes. It’s used to scoop out the insides of prey and drain their fluids. Monster guts are usually covered in mucus, making them difficult to consume as they are. So the tentacles wrap around the prey, twisting and squeezing to extract the fluids before consumption. As you can see, this transformation isn’t an offensive one, it’s a survival one that allows the creature to feed effectively.