On that day, the people of the Ogre God Nation learned the truth.
They learned of the clarinet performance of a boyish, large-breasted "boku-girl" in a military uniform.
The march of the Officer Academy Brass Band Club began.
Every eye in the Ogre God Nation was fixed on Kevin.
Since it had been about half a year since Kevin last performed, she had no mental energy to spare for the noise of the crowd.
The boys pulled their military caps low, standing guard while silently reciting the verses of The Tale of the Heike in their minds.
The Ogre God Nation had discovered the concept of the "idol."
There was no turning back now.
Furthermore, they were bombarded by the appearance of the female-type Zorks, whose very looks were specialized in captivating men.
At this point, the soccer match was the least of anyone's concerns.
The Brass Band Club programs, which we had produced with a bit too much confidence, sold out immediately.
The flyers introducing the club members vanished in an instant.
Even the music players pre-loaded with recordings of the band—created specifically for this event—flew off the shelves in a flash.
The moment had arrived for a people who had spent their lives in nothing but combat to have their values overwritten in the blink of an eye.
Until now, they were supposed to have been seasoned by exposure to Sumo, pro-wrestling, opera, and classical music.
But the destructive power of a live performance far exceeded our wildest imaginings.
I wouldn't call them amateurs; they were regulars on the high school competition circuit.
But they weren't pros!
It wasn't just us; even Piggett had underestimated the impact.
A flood of inquiries rushed in the moment the performance ended.
It reached the point where we, who were supposed to join the march, were instead drafted into emergency guard duty.
The member introduction booklets, which I'd had the Battle Dome produce for clarity, sold out instantly.
In fact, a literal scramble broke out over them.
Terrified, we ordered the full-scale production of programs and everything else.
"We'll play the member interviews on the Battle Dome screens!"
"Just please, calm down!"
"Kevin-chaaan!"
The Ogre God people called out using the Japanese they had just learned.
The crowd, desperate for a glimpse, scrambled up the fences until the barriers collapsed.
The situation was officially uncontrollable.
Ah, if only it had ended there.
That would have been manageable.
But during the soccer match, the fans discovered the "culture" of idiots throwing flares onto the field.
Honestly! Even the Battle Dome security was clutching their heads in despair.
Even the former Great King was powerless.
Saria appealed to the citizens as well, but his words fell on deaf ears.
Karate and Sumo matches became Platinum Tickets as well.
However, the audience there was mostly "Anego" types and men looking to test their own strength.
That side was also a chaotic mess.
...Yeah, I'm glad I stayed in the Home-going Club.
"Actually, Leo-kun, you're registered in the Computer Club."
In short, it was a research club for programming.
"Yeah, I joined because I wanted an IT qualification, but I never go because they just play games!"
I like games, but I don't want to do them as a club activity.
I only joined because club membership was mandatory.
In my heart, I am a permanent member of the Home-going Club.
"If you want me to participate, change the name to the Eroge Club first!"
"I'm almost enamored by how self-centered you are."
It's fine by me~
I'm in a position where I can get away with saying, "I can't participate because I'm busy being a Senior Officer, pyon"~
When the morning programs, the height of chaos, finally ended, everyone was exhausted.
Scores of boys were sprawled out on the floor.
"Here, eat up. It's protein."
I tossed nutritional blocks at the collapsed students.
"I want carbs..."
I felt that.
As expected of those with Japanese blood, you just can't find strength without carbohydrates.
Just then, Nina-san, One-oh-one, Tatiana, and Shar arrived.
"I brought onigiri~."
"RIIIIIIIIICEEEEEE!!"
The starving horde swarmed the cart.
"Pro-wrestling Research Club, don't overeat!"
You guys have a match coming up, after all.
"Got it—ssu."
A half-hearted reply came back.
Well, whatever. It's just onigiri.
I took one for myself.
Once I finished eating, the call went out for the Pro-wrestling Research Club.
I'd finally get to see Claire in her element.
Now, about that Pro-wrestling Research Club.
Things had become quite serious over there, too.
We had explained the rules repeatedly on the Battle Dome screens—how women used a right-handed stance while men used a left-handed one, and how Lucha used a right-handed stance—but it still wasn't enough.
It would be a disgrace to the sport if a student presentation was dismissed as a mere sham.
That was why we were selling booklets containing a detailed breakdown of pro-wrestling culture.
It was packed with information you wouldn't know in the Empire unless you actually studied the sport.
It emphasized the point that it was simultaneously a martial art, a show, and a form of art.
It also explained the vital importance of the Babyface and Heal roles.
In the Empire, these were the kinds of things that would make hardcore fans scream, "How tactless!"
But I intended to explain it in a way that was easy for beginners to grasp.
You did good, Claire!
Spread the glory of Imperial culture!
And man, the pro-wrestling venue had become something incredible.
It wasn't just a full house; crowds of people were literally glued to the displays outside.
"Even though they already have a gladiator culture... why has it turned into this?"
I pointed from the VIP seats.
Sitting with me in the VIP area were Wifey and Saria.
"The level of entertainment is in another dimension! Even people who don't know the rules find it thrilling! This is a revolution!"
Saria was practically huffing with excitement.
O-Oh, I see.
It was bustling to a degree that was actually a bit frightening.
"Hey, Wifey. Isn't it a bit late to claim they're just students?"
"No, there is no problem. Because..."
As I tilted my head in confusion, a muscular man in his thirties appeared in the ring.
Hmm?
Was there someone like that in the Pro-wrestling Research Club?
I’ve seen that face before.
Wait, this theme music... he’s a professional!
"That is Zaurus Sendo. He was a star player for Imperial Pro-wrestling."
"Why is there a pro here?!"
"He volunteered for the military during the attack on the Imperial Capital. Currently, he serves as the advisor for the Pro-wrestling Research Club."
This was the first I’d heard of it.
Claire was probably such a hardcore fan that she just forgot to mention it.
"Look, the opponent as well."
An opponent appeared on the ramp.
This one was a heavy-set but powerful-looking wrestler.
"That is Tank the Butcher. A famous villain wrestler. Apparently, he was in the military in his youth and returned to service for my expedition. He's been serving as a Sergeant in Elder Brother Thomas's fleet. Now, he's the coach for the Pro-wrestling Research Club."
This lineup is way too extravagant!
...I had no idea.
This was no longer at the level of a school club.
The venue was whipped into a frenzy of abnormal excitement.
And there was one more thing I didn't know.
That the photo books of Claire and the other girls, which the boys had produced while getting carried away, were currently selling at a terrifying pace.