Supersum: Living in another world [LitRPG Transmigration Fantasy]

As the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Academy's cobblestone paths, Ocilia strode across the campus grounds, each step punctuated with barely contained frustration. Everyone made a large circle around her, some students even pressing themselves against nearby buildings' walls to avoid crossing her path.

Her spider-kin eyes—all six arranged across her forehead—had shifted from their usual amber to a deep, scarlet red. A telltale sign to anyone familiar with spider-kin physiology that disturbing her further would be unwise. The last student who had interrupted her research during one of these moods had spent three days suspended in a cocoon of magical threads from the library ceiling.

"With all due respect, Ms. Janina," Ocilia said through clenched teeth, her voice carrying the edge of someone whose patience had worn dangerously thin, "I will not speak in front of your bizarre student club."

For weeks, Janina had been bothering Ocilia to speak before her student club—a place to discuss unusual relationships. The Forbidden Apple was the largest club on campus, right after the Elixir & Entrée Club and The Enchanted Doorframe Institute. The former combined alchemy and cooking, while the latter was a club for architecture and civil engineering interested students. Janina founded The Forbidden Apple with Naza to discuss their interests in peace, but many others joined quickly.

Janina half-jogged to keep pace with Ocilia's long strides—her fluffy and smooth tail wagged enthusiastically behind her like an inky streak against the golden afternoon light. "Wait, Lia!" Her emerald eyes gleamed with unstoppable determination as she reached out. "I have short legs!"

Ocilia slowed with a barely audible grunt, her shoulders tensing beneath her casual linen attire. "Sure," her tone clenched, wishing nothing more than for her Master to return from his expedition and rescue her from this persistent aristocratic nuisance. "Let's talk... then."

"Thanks, Lia!" Janina tugged slightly at Ocilia's casual linen attire, which made her look distinguished—or poor and lazy, depending on who you asked—especially combined with the worn-out slip-ons that had definitely seen better decades. "It's just ten minutes with Ariana! The students would benefit so much from hearing about your relationship," she pleaded, her voice filled with excitement that bordered on reverence.

The Forbidden Apple already had a variety of speakers—noble and commoner, same-sex relationships, different races, and a few more complex arrangements that defied simple categorization. While it sounded immature and like something teenage girls would obsess over, it was precisely that. However, they also discussed topics focused on those relationships, like the dynamics and differences at play between what society perceived as usual and what the couple in question actually experienced—psychology mixed with literary romance and drama. In this case, Janina wanted to invite Ocilia and Ariana—a prominent lesbian couple who worked in vastly different fields: magical research and diplomatic service.

Ocilia reached the heavy and enchanted oak doors of the mage tower and pushed them open with enough force that they slammed against the interior walls with a resounding boom, almost squashing some unfortunate first-years in the process. Several apprentices studying in the foyer jumped, startled by the noise. Two dropped their carefully balanced potions, causing a small shower of sparks to erupt from the floor. Ocilia paid them no mind, her expression carved from stone—angry and annoyed stone that seemed one irritation away from an avalanche.

"I will not, Ms. Janina," she replied, emphasizing each word as she entered the tower's cool interior. The scent of alchemic reagents and the student's despair filled the air—a comforting familiarity that did little to soothe her irritation but reminded her of the sanctuary that her laboratory provided.

Unfortunately, Ocilia was not interested in doing a Q&A about her personal life. Her mentality was strongly shaped by Alexander, who was, with all due respect Janina had for her brother, an emotional wreckage wrapped in a brilliant mind. Even Sarah, his fiancée, had gradually transformed into the same cold-blooded, calculating beast due to their shared responsibilities—a burden Janina understood but feared would someday consume her too if she wasn't careful—a thought for another time.

Janina slipped through the doors before they could close, undeterred. Her smile turned desperate as she played what she believed was her trump card—she reached into her spatial pouch, fingers brushing against the cool and rough metal of the Leonandra sigil, ready to use it if necessary. "Is there a chance I can use my status on you?" she asked, a hopeful lilt in her voice that didn't quite mask her desperation.

Ocilia's posture relaxed slightly as an unexpected chuckle escaped her lips. The tension in her shoulders eased, though her eyes remained that dangerous crimson. A student passing by with an armful of books visibly relaxed at the sound, though he still gave them a wide berth—noticing her fingers clenching.

"Only if you want Master to get involved," she replied, her tone lighter than before. A sly smile played across her lips as she added, "Or the Lady, for that matter."

At the mention of her mother, Janina visibly paled beneath her black fur. The silky hairs along her tail bristled momentarily. There was one rule for her and her siblings that had been drilled into them since puppyhood—never abuse status. If she found out, there would be consequences to pay, and Marisia's idea of consequences often involved extreme measures.

She quickened her pace and sidestepped in front of Ocilia, effectively halting her progress up the spiral staircase leading to the upper research chambers. "Okay, wait!" Janina exclaimed, raising her hands in surrender, ignoring the sigil.

She studied Alexander's disciple carefully. Ocilia's reputation for single-minded focus was well-earned—a trend had emerged where spider-kin wouldn't bother with ordinary [Mana Sense] but instead tied their magical perception to their innate racial skill. Therefore, all the spider-kin seemed to care about was finding innovative ways to adapt their inherent [Thread Arts] skill for complex spellwork—particularly how to construct magical frameworks with maximum efficiency. Ocilia's research had already revolutionized this field, especially regarding versatility and applications for combat-ready constructs that could be deployed in seconds rather than minutes.

Janina took a deep breath and played her final card. "I will do you a favor," she offered, her tone serious, all playfulness vanishing from her demeanor. "Any favor."

Ocilia raised one elegantly arched eyebrow, skepticism written across her features. "What exactly do you think you can do for me?" she asked, genuine curiosity replacing some of her irritation. "I have gold, prestige, and all the resources I could ever need to conduct my research."

It wasn't a lie or even arrogance—Alexander's retainers and subjects were paid so much that it became ridiculous how many tried to apply to be under him. The corresponding stress and expectations were similarly overwhelming. Many would give up after a few months, suffering nervous breakdowns, occasionally going insane or quietly disappearing in the night, leaving nothing but a hastily scrawled resignation letter.

Janina's lips curved into a knowing smile. Instead of speaking aloud, her lips moved silently, forming words without sound—knowing Ocilia could read lips from across a crowded hall, let alone three feet away. <I know you've had trouble seeing Ariana since the campaign started.>

The reaction was subtle but immediate. Ocilia's eyes widened slightly, the crimson fading back to amber momentarily. Her fingers twitched, almost reaching for the locket hidden beneath her shabby attire—a gift from Ariana containing her miniature portrait. Then she sighed, shoulders slumping in resignation. "Sure," she conceded grudgingly.

Janina had little power compared to her siblings, but she knew her brother and understood what she had to say to make him—and by extension, his disciples—do things. Was it manipulation? Somewhat, but... there was no but. In her mind, she was already helping the school run smoothly, and those minor manipulations here and there were necessary compromises not worth dwelling on.

"So, your club's name—"

"The Forbidden Fruit," interrupted a deep, pleasant voice behind them.

Both women turned to find Louis leaning against the doorframe, his orange hair catching the late afternoon light streaming through the tower's high windows, the leopard tail swinging joyfully around. His smile was fake, as usual, not quite reaching his blue eyes that seemed to catalog every detail of their interaction with analytical precision.

"I was there last week, telling my story," he added, a flicker of sadness in his eyes that vanished as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his customary mask of polite interest.

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Ocilia nodded, her decision made. "Well," she glanced back up the staircase longingly as if mourning the research time she was about to lose, mentally calculating how many test iterations this diversion would cost her. "When should I?"

Janina's face lit up with triumph, her tail swishing with barely contained excitement. "Now!" she exclaimed, grabbing Ocilia's hand with unexpected boldness that would have cost anyone else at least a few days inside the Temple. "Follow me!"

Without waiting for a response, she pulled the reluctant spider-kin back through the oak doors and into the courtyard. They headed toward the campus boundary, where a row of repurposed merchant buildings housed most of the student clubs—positioned just outside the Academy's formal grounds so students could invite non-academy visitors without violating the protective wards that discouraged—violently, in some cases—unauthorized entry.

"The arrangement works out perfectly," Janina chatted as they walked, her earlier desperation replaced with bubbling enthusiasm. "Since Ariana's diplomatic duties keep her tied to the charity most days, but she makes time to visit the club whenever..."

Her voice trailed off abruptly as they stepped beyond the Academy's boundary stones. The air felt different here—Janina's sensitive wolf ears twitched, then flattened against her head. Her eyes widened, pupils contracting to pinpoints as adrenaline flooded her system—her sensitive [Mana Sense] immediately perceived hostility.

"Enemy," she whispered, head swiveling as her gaze darted around the seemingly empty street. Her hand instinctively moved to her belt where the spatial pouch resided, fingers fumbling to release the elaborate clasp that would let her pull out the protective talisman her father had given her. "I feel—"

"Argh!" Louis's foot slammed into her side with bruising force, knocking her to the ground with a precision that spoke of extensive combat training. As she fell, a flash of silver whistled through the space where her throat had been a heartbeat earlier—a slender needle gleaming with some viscous coating as it embedded itself in the wooden signpost behind them, the wood around it immediately beginning to blacken and smoke.

Janina rolled to her feet, eyes instantly locating the attacker—an unassuming beast-kin who could have passed for any ordinary merchant hawking wares near the academy gates. There was nothing remarkable about him except for the deadly precision with which he'd thrown the poisoned needle and the coldness in his eyes that marked professional killers.

'It's an assassination attempt!' her mind screamed in alarm, but before she could react further, the assailant's movements suddenly jerked to a halt mid-reach for another needle. He fell forward, face contorting in confusion and fear as invisible forces bound him tight, wrapping around each limb with crushing pressure.

A wave of raw bloodlust emanated from beside her, so palpable it raised goosebumps along Janina's arms and sent a shiver down her spine. She turned to see Ocilia standing with one hand extended, threads of silvery magic extending from her fingertips like a spider's web catching prey. The spider-kin's expression had transformed completely—gone was the annoyed researcher, replaced by something predatory and darkly amused that reminded Janina too much of her brother during his most dangerous moods.

"Cute," Ocilia purred, her voice silken with menace.

She walked toward the immobilized attacker, her wide hips swaying with deliberate, hypnotic grace. The threads binding him tightened with each step she took, drawing a pained gasp from his lips as they began to cut into flesh.

"I've always wanted to test a few theories," she conversationally said as she stood above him, six eyes gleaming with an unsettling mixture of academic interest and sadistic anticipation. "And now, I've found a perfect subject~"

*

Miles away, in Alexander's forward camp at the edge of contested territory, Sarah held an unassuming beast-kin by his throat, feet dangling above the muddy ground—her grip was unyielding as iron. The would-be assassin clawed desperately at her wrist—his [Energy] becoming weaker every moment while his lungs burned with the need for air.

"Darling has wished to test a few experimental interrogation techniques for quite some time now~" she informed him with a sweet smile that never reached her lovely heart-shaped pink pupils, betrayed by the bloodthirstiness she emitted. Around them, soldiers averted their gazes, pretending not to notice as she dragged the choking infiltrator back toward their camp. "Let's have some fun on the way~"

*

Out in the field, knee-deep in swamp water that should have slowed her movements, Lorient stepped with a dancer's grace onto the face of a submerged attacker. Mud bubbled around his thrashing form as she applied more pressure, her smile widening with each desperate attempt he made to break free from beneath her boot.

"My," she said, genuinely delighted at this unexpected diversion from her mapping expedition that had, until now, been tediously uneventful. "What a surprise."

Beneath her foot, the assassin's struggles grew weaker as water filled his lungs. His hands, which had been clutching desperately at her ankle, fell away limply into the murky water.

*

In the main kitchen inside the camp, Narsiz stood over a woman dressed in servant's attire—surrounded by the kitchen staff, their faces ghostly pale and anxious as they pressed against the walls. She lay motionless on the stone floor, her severed arms arranged neatly beside her body while blood pooled in the grooves into the earth, forming an almost artistic pattern. Narsiz twirled a throwing knife between his fingers with casual expertise, his expression one of mild interest rather than concern or remorse.

"Not going to lie," he said, feeling a rush of exhilaration as he knelt to examine the woman's face more closely, only to find dread. "Alex mentioned that someone was going to take my life, but I never thought there was someone so foolish~"

His smile widened, teeth flashing in the kitchen's firelight. Around him, the staff exchanged terrified glances, wondering if they should clean up the mess now or wait for explicit instructions.

*

Alexander hunched over maps and reports in the strategy room of the main camp, dark shadows beneath his eyes testifying to too many sleepless nights. He chewed absently on his gum—mildly holding his mood in check. Around him, officers and advisors maintained a respectful distance, recognizing the signs of his fraying temper in the tightness of his shoulders and the slight furrow between his brows.

A messenger burst through the tent flaps, breathless from running across the entire camp. "Mr. Alexander! Reports from—"

"Four assassination attempts?" Alexander interrupted, looking up from his maps with bloodshot eyes that nonetheless retained their sharp intelligence. His expression remained solemn, betraying little beyond mild irritation at having his concentration broken. "I understand targeting Nina, but attacking my other siblings is just suicide."

The room fell silent, the officers exchanging surprised glances. The messenger blinked in confusion, mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish out of water.

"How did you...?" one of the generals finally ventured, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

Alexander tapped his Temple with one ink-stained finger. "Family connection," he said simply, then returned his attention to the maps. He did not want to reveal that they used private carrier birds between each other, which were much faster than their official means.

Everyone expected assassination attempts eventually—it was practically tradition during wartime—but most adversaries had more sense than actually to attempt them, especially against multiple targets simultaneously. Janina, in particular, was watched constantly and guarded even more vigilantly than Alexander himself. Beyond the visible and invisible protections, she wore so many protective talismans and wards that even Barry would need a good minute of concentrated effort to break through them all.

This meant that whoever had ordered these attacks was either foolish beyond measure or desperately afraid. 'It's Saru's job,' he waved the messenger to him, beckoning the nervous man closer. "Tell Narsi he should send them to the crazy bastard; Mom is probably less excited," his voice cautious, already anticipating quite the earful when he returned to the estate since it was ultimately his campaign.

*

A week later, as dawn broke over the Leonandra estate, Marisia lazily flipped through a stack of papers, her eyes scanning the contents with clinical detachment. The confessions extracted from the captured assassins—those who had survived Saru's attention long enough to provide information—lay spread across her desk in neat piles, categorized by coherence and credibility.

"Interesting," she murmured, one of her fingers with perfectly trimmed nails tapping against a particular passage. "Quite the message. " What was fascinating was not what they said, but the numbers etched into their skin—which she could quickly make sense of.

Rising from her chair with a fluid grace, Marisia departed her office. Her footsteps fell more silently than usual as she moved through the corridors, her mind racing ahead of her feet, piecing together implications and forming contingency plans.

'So, it's probably the punk's family,' she thought, a cold smile playing at the corners of her mouth as memories of a particular noble surfaced. 'Let's see if I can show them not to toy with me anymore.'

She remembered the time on the battlefield, cringing inwardly at her behavior and amateurish leading during those early campaigns before experience had taught her better. 'Alex will not be happy,' she mused, imagining how her son would react to her direct involvement, especially since he was trying so hard to hide his underhanded dealings; she couldn't even find any but knew they were there. 'I'll make it seem like a surprise visit to check if everything is fine.'

With a swift push, she opened the armory door, walking to the far side and looking for her armor, which wasn't hard to find among the more conventional battle gear—a chest radiating whispers of miasma, barely able to contain the only piece of equipment the Leonandra Knights could wear that wouldn't break down once they used their full power. 'This will be fun,' her usually stoic face turned into a smile as expectations rose, anticipating being on the battlefield again after so many years of political maneuvering and administrative duties.

Her fingers traced the embossed insignia on the chest piece, feeling the dormant power within stir at her touch, responding to the bloodlust she had suppressed for far too long. 'It's an obvious trap,' her smile widened. 'Fun.'