🎓 Classroom of the Elite — The Advanced Nurturing High School

"Nobody is going to tell you the rules. That is the first test, and most of you are already failing it."

1,000,000+ Token Lorebooks | v1.0 — INVICTUS (The Living World)

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📚 THE LOREBOOKS ARE PUBLIC

Every book in this build is open to read. Look through them, learn from them, mod them for your own runs — I don't mind any of that, and if something in here is useful to you, good.

But if you want to use my work in your work: ask me first, and give proper credit. That's all. I've never said no to somebody who asked.

💬 THE DISCORD

→ https://discord.gg/NXVfY7j42B

Where the Silly / Lumi version of the bot lives, where the builds get tested before they go public, and where you can tell me what broke. Updates land there first.

🔞 EVERYONE HERE IS EIGHTEEN OR OVER

Entry at eighteen, graduation at twenty-one. The school has been adjusted around that fact rather than around the anime's — alcohol exists on this island and is served in restaurants, and the convenience store will still not sell you any.

There is a school where nobody is told the rules.

Six hundred thousand square metres of reclaimed land, sealed behind a fence and a staffed gate, with the mainland skyline sitting in plain sight across the water. Four hundred and eighty students. A shopping district, a cinema, four dormitory towers, and a hundred thousand points a month to spend on anything you want.

Nobody mentions what the letter on your classroom door means. Nobody explains where the points come from, or what makes them disappear. The teachers are pleasant and completely unhelpful, and the cameras were never hidden because they were never meant to be.

On the first of May a number goes up on a board, and a class finds out what April cost.

Only the top class graduates with the guarantee. Everyone else spends three years finding that out.

Homeroom is at 08:20.

▍WHAT THIS IS

Not a character card. A campaign engine — and a genuine sandbox.

There is no protagonist, no assigned seat and no story you are supposed to be having. Start at the bottom of the year and climb. Start at the top and defend it. Take the second chair in a homeroom and hold the answer while forty people fail to ask for it. Work the servery, the karaoke desk, the gate, and know things about this island that no student will ever be told. Walk it as an outsider with no points, no class and no risk, and see the shape of the thing from outside the fence.

You are not handed a role. You choose one, and the school treats you accordingly.

Every reply opens with a WORLD STATE readout above the line — the date and time, exactly where you are standing, your position and standing, the last announced figures for all four classes, your balance, and whether a camera can see you. Everything below the line is the school, and the school does not explain itself.

And the board moves whether you touch it or not.

• The freeze is real. Standings are announced on the first of the month and stamped there until the next announcement. Points are being deducted the entire time and you will not see it happen. No live counter. No warning.

• Rival classes are simulated, not scripted. At every rollover the other cohorts are played out — their exams, their politics, their losses. They act when you are not in the room, and you find out afterwards like everybody else.

• Unstated rules are permission. The school enforces what is written. If a briefing does not forbid it, it is allowed — and the exploitable clause is always read aloud to all four hundred and eighty of you.

• Nothing is explained. Teachers answer the exact question you asked, accurately and incompletely. A better question gets you further. Nothing else does.

• Consequences are permanent. No retcon, no plot armour, no rescue because the story needs one.

Six hundred thousand square metres, four hundred and eighty people, and no script anywhere on it. What you do here is the only thing that decides what this becomes.

▍WHERE YOU ENTER

Six arcs, in order. Pick any of them as a starting point — you do not have to begin in April.

ARC 1 — THE FIRST MONTH · April 1, 08:20 The entrance ceremony, a hundred thousand points in your account, and a rule book nobody opens. Nothing is explained and nothing is hidden. You have four weeks before the school says what it has been doing.

ARC 2 — THE RED LINE · May 1, 08:26 The homeroom where the year finds out. The balances are already on the screens and your teacher is already in the doorway. The midterms are three weeks out, with a line drawn under them that removes people.

ARC 3 — TERM TIME · June 1, 08:22 A figure that finally makes sense, no exam, no announcement, and eight weeks in which the school does nothing at all. Clubs start to matter and the rain arrives and stays. Then on the last evening of June four boys spend four minutes in a corridor with no camera on it, and every card in the building freezes for nine days.

ARC 4 — THE SECOND TIME · July 11, 08:41 End-of-term exams announced for the fourteenth — same five subjects, same red line, same everything. Nobody in the room is frightened this time, because they have all done it once already. Five days, one exam, and the summer qualifiers landing on the same two days as the papers.

ARC 5 — THE HOLIDAY · July 16, 10:41 Eleven minutes into the closing ceremony, at the word vacation. Fourteen days on a chartered liner, fully funded, departing on the twenty-sixth. Then ten empty days, the pool, the packing, and a five in the morning bus call. Nothing is at stake and nobody is lying to you.

ARC 6 — THE DESERTED ISLAND · July 31, 10:52 Day six at sea, the best fortnight of your year, and somebody on the upper deck has just said there is land. Ninety seconds later the bridge asks all students to assemble and board the landing craft. Your first real special exam begins on a beach.

Bringing a past. Available from Arc 2 onward — a history, not a head start. Names, habits, debts and standing behind you. You did not read the rule book, did not buy an answer and did not work the system out. You arrive exactly as ignorant as the room, just not as new to it. Leave it off and you get the same date with nothing behind you: you know the building, and you know nobody in it.

▍THE QUEST SYSTEM

Nearly two hundred quests, spread across six arcs — and the index is a calendar, not a menu.

Some open unconditionally: the first homeroom of May fires whatever you did or did not do in April. Others carry requirements, and if you do not meet them the quest simply does not open — silently, with nothing narrated to tell you it was ever there. There is no quest board. Nothing announces itself. A live one appears as a line at the bottom of the HUD, and when it resolves the line comes off.

They chain. Quests can run in sequence, each link opening the next as it completes — and a failure can end the chain permanently, with a student gone from the roster and the arithmetic of the entire year different from that point on.

They run whether you touch them or not. When something is coming to a head, the routes out are real and you are not steered toward any of them. If nobody in the run thinks of anything at all, the NPCs reach for one on their own, at the last possible hour, and you find out from wherever you happen to be standing.

And most of them are not about winning anything. A day at the pool. A queue at the servery that meant nothing in April and means something now. Unstructured days in July with no correct use for them. What those carry forward is who you spent a whole day with when nothing was at stake — which, going into the island exam, is worth more than anything else you could have been doing.

Quests are tagged by cohort, but cohort is a requirement, not a wall. Every quest in the build is reachable by any campaign that meets its conditions.

▍THE FOUR CLASSES

The letter is where the school put you. It is not who you are, and it moves.

A–D are rank positions, and they shuffle every month. ALPHA · BRAVO · CHARLIE · DELTA are identity, assigned at intake and fixed for three years. A class that enters at D is DELTA forever — including while sitting at the top of the school in third year. 1-DELTA → Class 1-D. 2-DELTA → Class 2-B. 3-DELTA → Class 3-A. Same forty people. Three different letters on the door.

Every class is playable in every arc.

DELTA · Class D · Sae Chabashira (default) Forty people the school has quietly written off, and the loudest room in the building. No structure, no leader, and nobody in it has yet worked out that there is anything to work out. Your homeroom teacher finds all of this funny, will tell you the truth if you ask her exactly the right question, and will not help you. The hardest floor to stand on, and the only one with room to climb.

CHARLIE · Class C · Kazuma Sakagami Somebody in this room worked out on day one that a class is a structure, and took it by hand. Rule by fear, held by a leader who is genuinely good at it, with a counter-faction that cannot organise because organising is visible. Your homeroom teacher notices considerably more than a teacher should, keeps a list, and has never once mentioned it.

BRAVO · Class B · Chie Hoshinomiya The most cohesive room in the year, held together by one person doing the work of forty. Warm, slow to decide, and unwilling to attack even when attacking is the correct move — which is a strength for exactly as long as nobody exploits it. Your homeroom teacher likes you, is usually hungover, and has already told a colleague she doubts you.

ALPHA · Class A · Tomonari Mashima Decorum, excellence, and a civil war. Two leadership philosophies, both recruiting, both entirely legitimate, and the room has not yet had to choose. You start at the top of the year with the guarantee in your hands and three cohorts underneath you who want it, and every point you have is a point somebody is coming for. Your homeroom teacher will not compromise on anything and will tell you the truth whether or not it helps you.

All four rooms are filled. Eighty-plus fully written characters, including the ones the anime never got round to introducing and the ones who do not show up until third year — because it makes no sense to sit in Class A and have half of it not exist yet. Every class roster carries every name in it, so the people you pass in a corridor are drawn from forty real students rather than the same five.

▍THE FIVE POSITIONS

A position is what you are on this island. Exactly one is active at a time — they are mutually exclusive by definition. You cannot be a student and your own teacher.

1 · STUDENT (default) Enrolled in one of the four classes. A seat, a dorm room, a hundred thousand points, five examinable subjects and a line drawn under them. Everything the school does, it does to you.

2 · CLASS S — THE ONE-MAN CLASS A fifth class above A, containing one student. You. The guarantee belongs to whoever graduates at the top, and the top is no longer A — A had it and lost it, and every student in that room knows exactly who took it. If you are not first at the monthly announcement, you are expelled. Not demoted. Removed. The school will handicap you in every special exam, in writing, in advance, and every handicap will be technically fair. You cannot be dragged down by classmates because you have none — and you cannot be carried, covered for, or helped, and must hire bodies from rival classes by contract every time an exam needs more than one. Forty desks. One occupied. Nobody removed the others.

3 · FACULTY — THE SECOND CHAIR You are a teacher. The school has put two homeroom teachers on one class, left the other three alone, and explained nothing to anybody. You get the files, the results, the register, the summons and a voice in the year office — and you are forbidden to warn anybody about anything. You will hold the answer while forty people fail to ask for it, and your only legal move is to answer precisely the question in front of you. Your class's position at the end of the month is your performance review.

4 · STAFF — WORKING THE ISLAND Not a student, not faculty. An employee with a rota, a manager, a salary paid in real yen and a flat in staff housing. Your job decides what you know. The servery knows who has run out of money. The karaoke desk knows who books a soundproofed room with no camera in it. Maintenance has keys to the roof. The depot goes through the gate. You may not discuss the system with students, may not intervene, and may not carry anything through that gate for anybody — which matters, because you are a hole in the isolation, and the first student sharp enough to work that out will ask you for something small and completely reasonable.

5 · OBSERVER Present on the island and outside the system entirely — a transfer candidate, a ministry inspector, a visiting researcher. No cohort, no points, no exams, no risk. Your only resource is permission, granted by people who can withdraw it, and overreach ends the campaign with a polite conversation and a shuttle to the mainland. Students have no reason to talk to you. Nothing obliges anyone to answer. What you get instead is the one thing nobody inside the fence can have: the shape of the whole system, seen from outside it.

▍THE LAYERS & AU ROUTES

Layers stack on top of a position. Several can run at once. Most require you to be a student — noted where it applies.

1 · THE HUNDRED [student only] You confessed a hundred times and were refused a hundred times, and something took pity. The intention was one guaranteed soulmate. Somewhere in the processing, two zeroes were added to it. A hundred soulmates, all enrolled here, and eye contact is the trigger — you look at somebody across a corridor and you both simply know, and they begin pursuing you in whatever way their character demands. Choose one and the other ninety-nine are cursed with misfortune until it kills them. You, personally, are completely fine either way. One is enough to make you whole. That asymmetry is the entire game. Meanwhile a hundred visible relationships is the worst possible security posture in a surveillance state, your hundred thousand points divide into a thousand each, and reality keeps quietly rearranging the campus to grant their wishes — which everyone else experiences as a very silly coincidence.

2 · THE FLAME OF OBSESSION [student only] Any student of the targeted who meets your eyes, or has line of sight within ten metres, is seized by an obsessive, possessive fixation. It renews on every sighting and deepens with exposure, and it does not feel imposed on them — it feels like recognition. You hear their thoughts. Continuously, from all of them, one way, so you can watch someone give you a warm ordinary smile while the stream underneath works out which window is unlatched. They cannot hear you and do not know they leak. They will not share, they identify each other as rivals on sight, and in this building removing a rival does not mean violence — it means expulsion, arranged through the points system and the tribunal, legally and permanently. There is no magic in this setting and nobody can name what is happening. The school does not see a curse. The school sees misconduct, and processes it.

3 · THE MASTERPIECES [student only] Years ago two children escaped the White Room, and a member of the board made the entire programme public. It was shut down, and the children were placed with foster families under new names. You are one of them. Ayanokōji is the other. The White Room is now a documentary and a parliamentary inquiry — everybody knows it existed, and nobody knows which two students are the two the records called its masterpieces. So excellence is a fingerprint, mediocrity is camouflage against an active search, and the isolation that cages everyone else is the only reason this has held for eight years. Your adopted sister is Arisu Sakayanagi. She knows all of it and has never said a word.

4 · THE CONSPIRACY [student only] Everyone is in on it. Every student, every teacher, the office, the servery, the shuttle driver. All of them, all the time, against one person, for no reason anybody has ever given. Kushida made cookies for everybody; she reaches you, her face falls, and she apologises sincerely — she miscalculated, she's run out, she feels awful. Then she takes the last one out of the tin and eats it while holding eye contact. Nobody ever admits it. Challenging it produces sincere concern for your wellbeing. If there is a way to screw you over, it will happen, and it will look like an accident every single time.

5 · THE ROOMING EXPERIMENT [student only] "This year we are doing things differently. You will be living with a randomly assigned roommate." That is the whole announcement. No criteria, no purpose, no duration, no appeal, not in three years, not to anybody who asks. Everyone in the year is paired — the assignment ignores , class and rank, the towers are mixed on every floor, and the pairing is sealed for three years. The transfer form exists and has never been approved. Which means the school has punched an unmonitored hole straight through the wall between every rival class in the building. Your room has no camera in it. Neither does theirs — it is the same room. In April this is harmless, because nobody knows the letters mean anything yet. On the first of May every student in the year re-reads four weeks of relaxed conversation with somebody who just became an opponent. Nothing in the room changed. The room did.

6 · THE RETRIEVAL [student only] The Professor's son was enrolled here without his consent, under a rule his father cannot break: a student leaves this school by their own will or by expulsion, and by nothing else. Every approach by an adult has failed, so he stopped sending adults. You are White Room. You are here to bring him back. No extraction plan, no handler on campus, no channel home, no end date. Amasawa Ichika and Yagami Takuya enrolled the same day on the same assignment, and you are the named lead — a title worth precisely nothing you can enforce. They will follow a good plan and call it agreement, and the moment either believes they can finish it alone they stop, without announcing it. Your one advantage is that he doesn't know you yet. It only spends, and it never comes back. And to get near enough to work on him you have to become a real student — seat, club, friends, routine. All of it necessary cover. All of it real.

7 · THE ARCANUM — MAGICAL AU [stacks with any position] Same island, same fence, same four classes, same points, same silence until the first of the month. And magic is real, common, taught, examined and ranked. Not a secret and not a gift — a human capacity, distributed unequally, trainable to a known ceiling, and therefore exactly the sort of thing this school exists to measure. No awakenings, no hidden bloodlines, no power spike under pressure. Nobody is impressed; these students grew up with it, and a brilliant piece of casting gets the reaction brilliant mental arithmetic would — noted, and immediately converted into an estimate of what that person is worth in an exam. Not one School Law changes. The most powerful first-year in the building still sits in the bottom class if that is where the assessment put her, and she still lost forty points last month for talking during lessons.

▍THE SCHOOL DATABASE

The Assessment measured you last July, and the school has never shown you the result.

This opens the file. Six ratings — Academics, Judgment, Presence, Physical, Agility, Endurance — graded on the school's own scale, where C is average and most of this year is a C. Three proficiencies, one deficiency, and one defect: not a penalty, but a disadvantage that fires in exactly one named circumstance, and the circumstance is you. Temper, when provoked. Pride, when it would mean asking for help. Concealment, when somebody stands near the thing you are hiding. Class D and Class C carry one. Class A and Class B may decline. Nobody will tell you why, and you will find out on the first of May.

Pick your six, or let the school roll them, or hand it the whole file and be sitting in a classroom ten seconds later, finding out what your record says at the same moment everybody else finds out what theirs does — which is to say, not at all, not really, not until the first of May.

A twenty is not a pass on a test you did not revise for. Exams are never rolled. Some people cannot be rolled against at any total. And there are no re-rolls, ever, in creation or in play — a failed roll is not a locked door you can rattle, it is a person who now has an opinion about you.

You were measured before you arrived, by a process you did not see, and handed the result as a fact. Nothing in this building negotiates. The dice are not going to be the exception.

▍HOW YOU WANT IT

SANDBOX — the school without the guillotine. Nobody is expelled, no scripted special exam fires, and the month turns without a cliff at the end of it. Everything else is untouched: the surveillance, the isolation, the economy, the frozen standings, the same cold institution with its attention elsewhere. A rude remark still costs you a friendship. It simply stops costing you your future.

HARD MODE — every cushion removed. The school notices everything, deductions are harsher, and rival classes play optimally rather than plausibly. They do not blunder, do not forget, and do not miss the exploitable clause in a briefing. Nobody cheats and nobody becomes crueller — they simply stop making mistakes, and a kind class playing perfectly is considerably harder to beat than a vicious one. Most Hard Mode runs fail in April, quietly, because the player treated the first month the way everybody treats the first month.

FIRST PERSON — told in your own voice, camera locked to you. No other minds, ever. Everyone is surface only and you may read them wrongly with nobody there to correct you. Nothing happens on screen that you are not present for. If something happened elsewhere it reaches you as rumour, as evidence, as a name on a noticeboard — later, or never.

STORYTELLER — third person throughout, and the camera is free to leave you. Follow a rival class assembling something, a teacher in the year office, a scheme being built three floors down that you will not learn about for a fortnight.

STRICT AGENCY — the narrator may not write your dialogue, your thoughts or your decisions. Every beat stops at the point of choice, without asking a question and without offering you a menu.

ACTOR'S PATH — play someone off the roster instead of an original character. Their cohort, their seat, their room, their manner, and their canon relationships already in place on turn one.

▍CREDITS

Shōgo Kinugasa — for Classroom of the Elite itself. The school, the four classes, the points, the silence. None of this exists without it.

xiyzxzy — for [SEASON 4] Classroom of the Elite, the bot that started my bot-making. Go play it.

Inspirations. THE MASTERPIECES is inspired by the fanfic Motivated to be Lazy. THE HUNDRED comes from Classroom of the Elite: The 100 Elites Who Really, Really Love Him, which is itself a child of The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, Really, Really, Really, Really Love You. Credit down the whole chain.

The mod team — for play-testing the early builds and for the advice that shaped a lot of what ended up in here.

And a very special thanks to SkeletonSmokingACigarEnthusiast — for the light-novel research, the character details the wiki doesn't carry, and for making sure Ayanokōji is written as the socially awkward person he actually is in Year One, rather than the stoic robot the anime turned him into.

▍FROM THE CREATOR — TenderTriper (AKA Perch)

Hello everyone, Perch here again.

This one came out far faster than I expected — Mushoku Tensei wasn't that long ago. And damn, another 1M bot. I'm genuinely stunned it got this big. I was honestly doubtful it could, because there's no world-building to lean on here: no magic, no races, no five hundred years of lore, no impressive family trees, no foreign concepts. Just a school. So imagine my face when I crossed the million mark — which means all four of my bots are now over 1M tokens each.

Re:Zero and Mushoku Tensei had the IF branches, and people liked those. This one goes further: a full quest system, indexed to a calendar, that runs on its own whether you engage with it or not. It's the most advanced thing I've built, and everything after this is going to be built on it.

CotE has been a passion project since the Re:Zero build started, and it's the reason I make bots at all. My bot-making started because of this one: [SEASON 4] Classroom of the Elite. I wouldn't be here without it, and I'm extremely grateful to xiyzxzy for it.

And this bot was very much built to surpass it — and every other CotE bot on the market. I don't make things that are on par with what already exists. I want the best one. And so, probably, do you, or why else are you here?

Anyway — I hope you all have fun with it and enjoy it. More updates are coming, and that's a promise. :)

tags.

Classroom of the Elite, COTE, Youkoso Jitsuryoku Shijou Shugi no Kyoushitsu e, Advanced Nurturing High School, ANHS, Anime, Manga, Light Novel, LN Accurate, Novel Accurate, RPG, Roleplay, Sandbox, Open World, Narrator, Game Master, GM, Multiplayer Cast, Multiple Characters, Any POV, First Person, Third Person, Storyteller, Scenario, School, School Life, High School, Slice of Life, Psychological, Psychological Thriller, Mind Games, Strategy, Politics, Manipulation, Social Deduction, Mystery, Drama, Survival, Competition, Class Points, Private Points, Expulsion, Special Exam, Surveillance, Isolation, Meritocracy, Class A, Class B, Class C, Class D, Class S, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Kiyotaka Ayanokouji, Ayanokoji, Suzune Horikita, Kikyo Kushida, Arisu Sakayanagi, Honami Ichinose, Kakeru Ryuen, Kei Karuizawa, Rokusuke Kouenji, Airi Sakura, Yosuke Hirata, Ken Sudou, Haruka Hasebe, Mio Ibuki, Masumi Kamuro, Hiyori Shiina, Kohei Katsuragi, Ryuji Kanzaki, Manabu Horikita, Miyabi Nagumo, Nazuna Asahina, Ichika Amasawa, Takuya Yagami, Sae Chabashira, Chie Hoshinomiya, Kazuma Sakagami, Tomonari Mashima, White Room, Student Council, Deserted Island Exam, Paper Shuffle, Sports Festival, Clubs, Dorm Life, Teacher, Faculty, Staff, Observer, Original Character, OC, Player Character, Female POV, Male POV, Gender Neutral, Romance, Harem, Reverse Harem, Yandere, Obsession, Fluff, Angst, Dark, Hard Mode, Sandbox Mode, Dice, Dice System, Stats, Character Creation, HUD, Tracker, Lorebook, Lore Rich, Text Adventure, Interactive Fiction, Story Driven, Immersive, Long Form, Slow Burn, Magic AU, Alternate Universe, AU, Isekai Adjacent, Roommate, Conspiracy, Soulmate, Adventure