I selected the build from my last life, the sixth. In my first life here, I hadn't worked to raise my Stats even once, and having such low numbers would either raise suspicions or get me thrown out sooner rather than later. My Stats from my second life were definitely higher, but I'd raised my Cunning and Perception Stats almost exclusively so I could navigate high society better than anyone else. My third, fourth, and fifth lives had seen a lot of training and fighting, and those Stats certainly would invite questions.

My best bet was to go with my sixth life where I'd been a student who'd only raised a few Stats over the years.

[Notice] You've selected the build from the end of your [Sixth Life]. Which was the obvious choice. Here are your current Stats...

Name

Gerard Viscoti

Primary Class

Noble Assassin

Secondary Class

Mage

Soul

F-Class (Stage 1)

Strength

18

Cunning

15

Perception

30

Energy

15

Skills

Lucky Number 7 [10.50%]

Silver Tongue [1.50%]

7-Lives-Bloodlust [5.00%]

7-Times-Returner [1.00%]

Synchronize [0.01%]

Demeot Eyes [0.01%]

[Notice] With [7-Times-Returner] activated, your temporary Stats are now...

Name

Gerard Viscoti

Class

Noble

Soul

F-Class (Stage 1)

Strength

15

Cunning

25

Perception

15

Energy

11

Skills

Forgotten Son [25.85%]

While I wished my Cunning was so high and that I had more Energy, this would be a decent baseline. With low Energy, I might be given some remedial coursework, but the truth was that I probably needed it. The rest of my Stats would seem rather high for my age, and the Mastery of the one Skill I had in my previous life would look good as well. Of course, they weren't the hard work of an eager 17-year-old boy as they'd take it but the work of four years of no effort.

Crown Princess Hyacinth rested her hands on my shoulders. Her touch was soft. This close, I could see her eyes were a few shades a deeper red than Rose's eyes, almost like rubies. Her smile was warm, but there was an odd pinch at the back of my neck. Was that my Perception picking up her Assess?

"Gerard Viscoti," the crown princess read aloud, her vision on me but also not on me. Probably reading my Stats from her own System. "Classed Noble. F-Class, Stage 1 Soul. Strength of 15. Perception of 15. Cunning of 25. Energy of 11. One Skill by the name of Forgotten Son, 25.85% Mastery."

[Notice] Mastery of the [7-Times-Returner] Skill has increased .01%.

"Interesting," the dean noted. "I believe some of those numbers are a little higher than you reported at registration, Gerard."

"I've been working hard," I lied.

[Notice] Your Skill [7-Times-Returner] has been forcibly deactivated because your Mastery of this Skill is too low. You do realize you should practice it a bit more before the time limit fucks you over, right?

I was well aware of that, yes. Ideally, I'd use the build I had at the end of my life as an Assassin to prepare for killing King Enosh XXI. To do that, I needed to learn more about the Assassin Class, Souls, and the System in general if I was going to effectively use the tools at my disposal. Hopefully having low Energy would give me an opportunity to do that without revealing how little I knew.

"That's good to hear," the dean said. She got a nod from the heads of the houses that they'd taken what notes they'd wanted to take, so she gestured for him to head back to his seat. "Thank you for your cooperation once again, young lordling. With that, we've finished the first part of your tests. We'll be announcing your pairs now."

[Notice] Congratulations! You have completed the first part of your Quest Mission [Take Part in Decision Day]. Your reward will be calculated after you complete the entire Quest Mission.

At this point, I recognized Di'at did this shit just to piss me off, and although I'd said no more Quests, he hadn't changed a single thing about how the System either auto-accepted them or fabricated them after I'd decided to do something. If I had to guess, Di'at was definitely making them up on the fly to torment me.

I returned to my seat near Garta. He seemed just as uninterested in me as before, which was preferable. The dean called out the pairings, and at the end of her list, she named Garta and me partners.

"Now that you have your partner," the dean said, "here's what will happen. I will call up the first two pairs who will get into this ring together. Once you're up here, you'll have five minutes to familiarize yourself with your partner. Learn each other's names and where the other is from. Share information and strategies. Then I'll call the start of the match. You'll fight for ten minutes or until there is a clear winning and losing pair."

Garta turned his head to look at me. Less look and more glare. It was one of those if-looks-could-kill looks, but I was rather immune since I had one myself. Either he was concerned I'd take this whole thing too seriously or that I wouldn't take it seriously enough. I hoped it was the former.

"There is no penalty for losing and no glory for winning." Dean Sarssys folded her arms over her chest and kept her attention toward the first years rather than the entire crowd. "The hope is that you'll catch the attention of the heads of houses, particularly of the houses you're most interested in joining. I'm sure you've noticed, but the heads of houses have been watching and taking notes this entire time. They will continue observing you through the weekend's festivities leading up to Decision Day, which marks the beginning of orientation week."

Decision Day was when we would receive offers to join one or more of the houses. The idea was that it was about matching students and houses rather than magically sorting us into them by defining traits. Something more like a fraternity or sorority, if I was remembering how that worked. We were meant to impress the houses as much as they were meant to impress us. Then, on Decision Day, if multiple houses offered, the student could choose which one to join. If none offered, then they'd stay in temporary housing until second semester. If only one offered, they'd have the opportunity to join that house or return to temporary housing until the next Decision Day.

Apparently they did one of these every semester because sometimes students moved houses to grow their weaker skills at a certain point. Or because they hated their house, I'd guess.

The dean raised her hands, poised to clap. "I wish you all luck! Let the fighting begin!"

With that, she called the first two pairs to fight each other and left the center ring. I thought she'd find a place in the stands, but instead she headed for Garta and me. Again, attention that I did not want or need. She chose to sit closer to me and had Garta take the seat next to me.

"You are both already in Tespana," she said, "but I'd like to think I know a bit of both of you now. I believe you both would prefer the opportunity to prove yourselves and demonstrate why you were able to join Tespana early. You may also change your mind at remaining at Tespana, so participating will leave your options open. What would you two like to do?"

Obviously, it was a waste of effort to show off for me. I didn't want any glory. I was fine being looked down on right now as Gerard Viscoti. Trygve Teigen was the one who needed the glory, but this glory wouldn't do him any favors, either.

"We'll participate," Gatra said.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"That's what I was hoping to hear," the dean said. She clasped them both on the shoulder. "Do your best, boys. There are a lot of eyes watching you both."

Another thing I didn't want to hear. Maybe I should've gone to an academy a bit more remote and lesser known where I could've studied and hidden away at the same time. Then again, I didn't know I'd be taking on this king-killing contract. If I had, I would've made a lot of different choices. A fuckton, in fact.

Once the dean was out of likely earshot, Garta said, "You better not fuck this up. I don't want these halfwits thinking I got into Tespana undeservedly. I'm too old for anyone to look down on me."

He was too old? I'd heard elves aged differently, though not all of them. Could he really possibly be older than me, though? With my original life and the six lives I've lived on this world so far? If he really was that old, why would he be here?

"Good luck then," I said. "I'll be rooting for you, old man."

"You'll need to do more than root for me, you brat," he said. "If you fuck this up for me, I'll make you live to regret it."

I chuckled because now I wanted nothing more than to fuck it up for him.